I wake up on top of a pillow stained with dry tears and a completely dark room. I fetch my crutches then walk to the closed window. I throw the drapes open, expecting to find rays of sunshine sneak inside but instead complete darkness welcomes me. It's night already? How can it be? The sun was barely halfway in the sky when I woke up a few minutes ago. Unless it wasn't a few minutes ago. How long have I been sleeping for?
"Great you're awake!" I turn my head to find my mom at my door with a tray of food and the biggest smile I've seen on her face for a while. "The doctor said it will be best if we limit your movements so I brought you food so you won't have to go through all the hassle to come eat downstairs."
"Thanks," I say reluctantly as she approaches closer.
"Come on, lay down. It's not good for you to be up, you're going to undo all of the hard work the doctors put in that leg."
She places the tray on my bedside table and help me to go back under my covers. After she makes sure I was comfortable, she lays the tray carefully on me.
What is this, an alternate universe?
"Mom, are you feeling alright?" I question when she begins to cut the steak into small pieces.
"Of course, why wouldn't I be alright?" She laughs and for a second I capture the image of my old mom. The one who used to always be there for me, the one who walked me inside the classroom on my first day of school because I was scared to be left alone with a bunch of strangers.
"No reason." I shut off all conversation as I chew on a piece of meat which reminds me of something. "Why don't you ever make normal food anymore?" Her eyebrows bunch up in confusion. "I mean food that kids like, you know, since I'm a kid according to you."
"You are a kid, honey. Don't try to grow up too fast." She hands me a glass of cranberry juice.
"That didn't answer my question. You never make pasta anymore, I used to love it when you made macaroni and cheese."
"That's baby food and pasta makes you fat," she replies curtly.
"What about chicken? Everybody loves chicken yet you seem to be cooking every other type of meat except chicken," I insist.
"Steven doesn't. He said only poor people eat chicken," she mutters quietly.
Of course he would say that. That man is so infuriating. Hearing about him makes me lose my appetite and with my mom here I'm bound to hear more about him.
"I'm done." I push the tray away from me.
"What? Already?" My mom stands bewilder.
"Yep, I want to be alone now if you don't mind."
"Yes, I do mind. God, Rachel I'm trying here but you won't give me a chance. How are things between us supposed to get better if you keep pushing me away?" Something tugs at my heart when I detect the desperation in her voice. If only I could trust her not to ever throw me under the bus for Steven, things would get better. Unfortunately, I don't.
"Mom, you're kind of giving me a headache now so please let yourself out." I slide down till my head's under the covers.
I hear the clinking of plates, then her heels on the floor before the door closes with a loud thump. I uncover myself and stare at the ceiling.
I can't help but feel that God is punishing me. For what? I have no idea. Sure I have done some not so pretty things to other people but nothing none of them didn't deserved. Just watching someone smile turns my guts inside out. I can't take it.
Why can't I get some of that happiness, too? What was so wrong with my family that the universe had to go around and break it? Why couldn't I get the American dream? I want to know why. I want answers, that's all I want.
I feel as if all of my bad deeds are catching up to me but life provoked me first. How the hell they expect me to preach love is forever when they took all evidence of it from me so early in my existence? No, love is not forever. Lately, I have begun to question whether its existence is real or is something people made up to justify our foolishness just like they had created Santa Clause to have a reason to break their bank accounts on useless gifts on Christmas.
If love is a myth, it would explain so much unsolved things in my life. A heavy weight would be lift off of my shoulders knowing that I didn't get sucked in into an imaginary world of fake blessings. However, if it's real, that means I'm missing out on something wonderful.
My eyes refuse to close for the night. I lie there, staring at nothing, thinking about everything. My body aches, my head pounds as I ponder in the darkness. I used to be fine hurting emotionally and psychologically, I got used to it. But physical pain is not my forte even if I had inflicted so much to myself. It never hurt so badly.
The first person to call me in the morning is surprisingly my father. I thought he had forgotten my number. The distance between us has just been growing day after day. What was I expecting? I practically cut through his happy ever after.
"Good morning, baby girl" he says as soon as I answer the call. "How's everything?"
"Everything's great," I lie. "I'm recovering pretty quickly maybe I would be able to go to school when it starts."
"I don't think so, baby girl. Dr. Shaw strongly advised against it. She said your body needs sufficient amount of time to recover completely and putting you through the stress of school will only be inviting unnecessary troubles."
"Dad, I'll be fine." I don't need no old lady to be telling me how to live my life. What does she know anyway? I don't want more time alone. I need school, homework, and things to occupy my mind.
"Rachel, you're not going to school. The doctor said no so it's not. We want you alive so if what it takes is for you to miss out on a few weeks of school, we will do it" he says in a grave tone. I've never heard my dad take such a hard tone with me before.
"But-"
"I said no, Rachel. I don't see why you're being difficult about this. You've never liked school in the first place."
I open my mouth to argue but he doesn't give me enough time for a word to leave my mouth.
"Don't even think about lying about this. Your mother told me about all of the parent-teacher conferences. Apparently, you've dished all of your classes for the entire month of February."
"That's because I already knew everything they were teaching during that time. I didn't see the point in going."
"I have seen your report card also. It doesn't show your expertise in the subjects."
"Fine," I mutter. "I'll stay in that stupid house."
"There was another thing your mother wanted me to talk to you about," he hesitates. "Dr. Shaw proposed that we seek therapy for you."
Dr. Shaw can't just leave well enough alone, can she? Even miles away, she continues to wiggle her way into my private life.
"So now you and mom are besties?" I ask bitterly. I'll say anything right now for them to leave me alone.
I hear his sigh through the phone, "We may be divorced but we're still your parents so we're trying to find what's best for you."
"I don't remember her asking your opinion when Steven and her were trying to keep me for themselves."
"That's the past, Rachel. Let's not be reminiscent of it. We think therapy would be a good idea to help you with everything that had happened lately. "
"I don't want to go, dad." I cry. "You can't do this to me. You can't just hand me to a stranger so they could fix me."
"No one is trying to fix you because you're not broken. We just want to help you deal with the accident and...other stuff." He stumbles on the last words. I know what he's referring to. Obviously, Dr. Shaw couldn't keep a single information to herself. What happened to doctor-patient confidentiality?
"I'm fine, dad. Why can't you believe me? I've never lied to you." That's definitely a lie. There's not a human being in this planet who have come in contact with me who I didn't lie to. My father was one of the few ones who trusted me too much to see though them but I can scratch him off that list now.
"Therapy is not a chore, Rachel. Nobody is going to hurt you so do me a favor and stop being so difficult about it. We're trying to help you. Let us."
Betrayed, that's how I feel when he hang up on me. I can't believe he's siding with them instead of me. My father has become the Brutus to my Julius Caesar.