It was the first day of the Christmas break and there was not a single white snowflake to be found. The air was a little chilly, but the temperature was still nice. I despised the word nice it was over-used to such a point that it has become a non-descriptive, meaningless, ambiguous adjective. But for all those reasons it was perfect, I mean when does the topic of weather ever come up? Only when one has exhausted all other avenues of conversation with a person and must resort to the most trivial of subjects.
Regardless, Christmas in Florida was a lot different than New York. The smell of pine and hot cocoa used to fill the house every year, with a row of red and white candy canes lining the windows. I used to steal one every Christmas Eve and eat it in my room, buried under the blanket with oversized fuzzy socks for extra warmth. Was Christmas different in Florida or was it just me that changed?
Christmas shopping with Lily for our mom, I swear she wants us to buy everything. What are you up to right now?–Matt
Isn’t that the dilemma of being a child? When you’re young and walking through a store it’s heaven, it shows you beautiful shiny things that you seemingly desire. That is till you buy them, use them once, and toss it in a corner to be forgotten about. Oh to be young and naïve.
Hahaha, have you gotten Lily something yet? I replied to the first part of his text. I didn’t think shopping for a six year old could be hard. As long as you didn’t get her socks, I’m sure she’d be ecstatic. But that raised another question of whether or not I should be getting Matt anything. We were definitely not dating, but we were still friends. Friends get friends gifts, right?
Hesitantly I sent the second half of my message, Decorating the tree with my mom… there’s so much tinsel! LIAR, my mind screamed at my blatant deception. I didn’t want Matt to know that I was sitting alone in my room like a depressing fool. The holidays were meant to be a joyous occasion where people spent time with their family, and my mom just so happened to be gone for the next three weeks in the Bahamas. It was for work though; at least that’s what I keep telling myself.
I collapsed back on my bed, blowing the strands of hair that fell in my face away only for them to land in the same spot again. I wanted school to start up once more already; it would at the very least give me a reason to escape this place, to run away from the emptiness of not only my house but my heart. It’s funny, not so much ironic, that the longer you keep a secret that more it begs to be told. For years I felt no inclination to speak the truth but now it seems impossible to keep hidden beneath the surface for much longer. I continue waiting for the day where the burden becomes so strong that I’m faced with only two decisions. Speak or take it to my grave.
Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead. I read that somewhere and I cannot help but believe it to be true.
Matt and I continued the flow of texts for the rest of the day, his responses more erratic than mine due to him actually being out and accomplishing things. I was just a distraction that slowed him down, took time away from his mother and sister who needed him. They needed him like he needed them, and it was a symbiotic relationship where if one broke down the other could not survive.
I couldn’t help but wonder what Christmas was like for the Storm family, if they were able to be happy knowing that the only gift they could ever ask for would never come wrapped beneath the Christmas tree with a little red bow perfectly tied with a note from Santa Claus.
Is it alright if I come over? He asked, my first instinct was to glance around my room at the mess I had been wallowing in all day. The strewn blankets had somehow ended up on the floor next to the bottle of pink nail polish that I painted my long nails earlier.
Sure I responded, his unexpected visit making me rush to make myself and the house look presentable. I threw on a fresh shirt and did the dishes I had left in the sink from lunch, wanting to maintain a certain appearance. A tidy house is a tidy mind after all. I had a friend named Sam from my childhood who used to say that all that time. His dad was a marine so I was never quite sure if he was brainwashed into thinking it would make his father proud or if he suffered from obsessive compulsive disorder. It was likely a combination of the two.
It’s interesting how the friends we surround ourselves with help determine our habits. Sometimes I’ll find myself saying a phrase or doing an action and it reminds me of someone I used to know. Perceiving these characteristic gestures or sentences from others in myself always made me hyper-aware of my every decision, I believed that I was too controlled by individuals in my life, too influenced by their habits. It makes me question how much of myself is genuine, how much is merely copied.
“I didn’t think you’d be stopping by so soon,” I commented, letting Matt inside after receiving his text that informed me he was here. His black hair was gelled slightly, giving it a sheen when the light hit it just right. Matt was the type of guy that made you grin wonderously at his manners, he never once asked for a ride over, never assumed I would drive him despite the fact that I had access to a car and he didn't. The fact that he continued to walk to meet me withtout complaint spoke volumes to who he was fundamentally.
“My mom is taking Lily to see an ice show and it wasn’t really my scene,” he lazily explained. He headed to the kitchen, sights set on the fridge like this was his home, exactly how I had conditioned him to behave. I was never a host when he was over, it was too much effort.
“Hey Sara,” he started, his voice uneven. His shoulders hunched and frozen, eyes staring in my own directly like he was going to attack. Pounce on me like a lion in the jungle hunting its prey, but he held remorse for the creature he was about to wound. I was that pathetic animal and I needed no sympathy from him, not when the uncertainty of whether or not he should continue with his question was so blatantly evident, “-I thought you said you spent the day decorating a tree with your mom”.
“I did,” was my immediate response. Shit. There was no Christmas tree to be found in this house but I was not willing to admit defeat so quickly. There were other explanations for the lack of pine to be found. I should have used an easier lie. “-at my aunt’s house. She lives about half an hour away”. Another lie. It was a snowball effect though, one lie leads to another till it’s gotten so big you can no longer control it and the next thing you know it’s knocked you over and left you alone in the cold. I refused to be left in the cold.
“You’re lying,” he challenged. There was no malice in his words but I still felt threatened. I wanted him to think my life was normal, didn’t want him to look at me like I needed his help or sympathy. There was no questioning tone to his statement; he was a claiming a fact and I pondered how he could be so sure. My eyes landed on the sticky note on the fridge. If I hadn’t been so careless and consumed with appearance I would have remembered the tiny details. I would have remembered to hide all evidence of parental neglect. One mistake after months of doing everything right, and now it has all been wasted. My image destroyed.
“Why?” he asked when my mouth refused to form any syllables as it went dry. My throat felt swollen, tingling as it closed up slightly making my breathing more laboured. I could feel my pulse reverberating through my body at his questions. There was no lie big enough to get me out of this one but I was not ready to face the music just yet, wasn’t ready to admit the truth just yet. Unconsciously I took a step back from him, and bit my bottom lip trying to break the skin because maybe if it bled it would be enough of distraction to avoid it all. Who was I kidding?
“It’s not a big deal,” I reasoned seeing the pieces forming together in his mind. He looked around the kitchen as if seeing it for the first time, noticing the lack of everything. No decorations or colours. No place settings at the table, no pictures on the wall. There was barely any food in the goddamn fridge. This couldn’t be the first time my neglect crossed his mind.
“I’ve never once met your mother-” he tried to explain where he was coming from. But what was the point, he wanted answers that I just wasn’t willing to give.
“She works a lot,” I interrupted desperate to prevent hearing the conclusion he drew. It became a reality if spoken out loud, no longer a daughter craving more attention from a parent but in fact a neglected child left to fend for herself. Please do not say it.
“You’re alone,” he uttered contrary to my hopes, his piercing brown eyes staring me down, daring me to say it wasn’t so. The blood was rushing through my veins at a faster pace, my natural instincts begging me to run away. Ignoring my primal wiring caused the palms of my hands to sweat, so I rubbed them against the rough fabric of my jeans hoping to alleviate the unwanted moisture.
“So is Christine,” I countered trying to justify it all. When I moved here I swore to myself that I was done being the pitiful person I saw myself as. I promised myself that I wouldn’t use any more excuses to remove the blame from the mess that was my life, that I wouldn’t have to justify anything to myself or others. I was above worrying about what people thought of me, unconcerned with their opinions. Again, another lie.
“Not for Christmas or New Years or Thanksgiving,” he insisted trying to force through the walls I built up. He took a couple steps forward, trying to bridge the space between us that I only wanted to lengthen. None of us had anything left to say, I knew right now Christine was off on vacation with her parents, skiing down an impressive mountain, retiring at night to their luxurious rooms at the chalet. And even though she was there with people who loved her unconditionally, I would rather be standing here with my mother in the Bahamas without me. An insane thought, but somehow true. Maybe I am a masochist.
The ticking of the black and white clock hanging on the white wall counted the seconds that keep passing. Marking time like my heartbeat that refused to slow down even at this impasse we had mutually reached. The realization that both of us knew exactly what was going on, but I did not want to say it out loud. I would deny its existence; keep it hidden away from reality for as long as I could like an old man protecting the watch his father gave him from hungry hollow thieves. The old man willing to sacrifice his hand for the worn possession, I was willing to give my heart.
“Come on, let’s head over to my place and make some hot chocolate with marshmallows?” Matt offered trying to alleviate some of the tension that had built between us. He wanted to rescue me from the silence of my house, but it provided a blanket of protection he could not see. I craved what he was able to go home to every night, but the silence was my sanctuary. I came here to pray, mourn, and survive.
Without words of acknowledgement, I grabbed my keys and drove us to Matt’s house. This time it was different though. The sun had begun to set beneath the horizon, the leaves on the trees dancing in tune to the wind that whispered an enticing melody. The vibrant green leaves entranced by the power of nature were soothing.
Passing the staircase upon entering his home, I stopped in front of the wall of memories. Photos of the Storm children growing up over the years, and there I saw her. Charlotte. It wasn’t a cousin or a neighbor in the faded photos but a sister now lost, and it brought me back to the first time I came over and Matt’s shoulders tensed when I commented on Lily’s beauty. He thought I meant Charlotte. I was a fool.
“That’s Charlotte, isn’t it?” I asked lowly as if it was a secret that wasn’t supposed to be spoken. Already knowing the answer, I questioned if I mentioned her to make him feel as vulnerable as he made me or if I just wanted to let him know that I knew. I feared it was the former which sickened me, knotting my stomach at the ice in my heart.
Matt’s body froze at the entry to the kitchen from the shock of my question, but boldly he looked me straight in the eyes and said one simple word, “Yes”. His honesty was sudden and refreshing like being splashed with a bucket of cold water on a hot summer’s day.
“Do you want to know what happened to her?” he bravely asked me crossing the empty space before us. She was dead, and he was standing before me willing to retell the story. I wasn’t worth him reliving that pain for my own selfish desire. I shook my head no, wordlessly begging for him to stop. I knew how hard it could be to talk about things that have hurt you in the past and it’s even harder when you’re not expecting it.
“She was at a sleepover at a friend’s house and she got sick,” he started anyways and all I wanted to do was close my eyes. There was no happy ending to his story and the barely stitched together heart that he wore on his sleeve at this moment was enough to make me cry. “My dad went in the middle of the night to pick her up. While he was driving home, they got t-boned by a drunk driver who ran a red light. Charlotte died instantly and my dad bled out for two hours, alone, pinned in the car and unable to call for help,” Matt whispered sullenly, his voice thick with emotion.
“I’m sorry,” the stupid words, the only thing I was able to say. The words I was never able to tell his mom, but I tried them here praying they would magically work. I had no idea that the same accident that killed his sister was also the reason why I never saw his father. I never questioned his absence, but the gaping hole in Matt’s life was a lot bigger than I realized. He lost his sister and father in the same night, damn it all to hell. Life is a woman with a vengeance against humanity and she never lets us forget her wrath. Our suffering is the trophy she displays on her mantle, another person’s life she’s scarred.
“I know Sara. And it’s okay to feel broken sometimes,” he informed me refusing to break eye contact. He wanted to make sure that I understood. And I did. That was the unfortunate part, I did understand.