Have you ever had to fight yourself over a feeling? Personally I couldn't get the thought out of my head that something had been in that field with me. More like someone, but it just didn't feel right. Almost as if the field itself was anticipating the disasters to come. A shiver runs through me at the thought and I internally yell at myself. I'm being ridiculously paranoid and I need to knock it off. Just because my family is going through a rough patch doesn't mean that the world is about to end. Changing my thinking track I start to think about what I'll make for dinner when I get home. What will Michael even want? I can't help but crack a smile at that thought. Michael is a pig and will eat anything and everything I make. Now that I think about it Michael has football practice today until eight. I groan out loud.
He's going to be ravenous and he's probably going to bring John. Michael and John have been best friends since they both started playing football in the seventh grade because both we're forced. Now however they love the game and the two of them are inseparable. Digging my key out of my bag I walk the last few feet up our steps to the front door, quickly unlocking it, and walking in. Taking a deep breath I try to calm myself down as I look around the house. Unfortunately my mom died after giving birth to me and Lacey. Now my aunt and dad fight all the time and I'm just waiting for one or both of them to leave. April my aunt, is trying to get him to realize that he still has two kids who need him and he's trying to figure out why she isn't more upset. Which isn't fair to her because he doesn't see her crying at night in the kitchen with a hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face. He doesn't watch her fall apart in the dark, trying to stay quiet so she doesn't hurt us more. He never sees anything anymore because he's too overcome with his own grief to care about anyone else's, but I just can't seem to blame him for it.
I can't blame my aunt either, because I try my hardest to do the same thing so I don't hurt Michael more. Anyways our living room is decorated in dark shades of brown and rich red, with the couches on the right side and the flat screen across from them. Closing the door behind me I head up the stairs (they're to the right of the door, starting in the living room) still thinking about what I'll make for dinner. Once I'm up the stairs I turn to the right and go in my room. Mine and Michael's rooms are the only thing up here and his is right across the hall. My room revolves around purple and zebra stripes. I have a window seat, a huge walk-in closet, and my T.V. is across from the bed so I can see it from my bed or window seat. To the left of my window seat is two book-shelves filled to the brim with all of the books I could get my hands on. The middle shelf holds my diary, but no one except me knows that. Next to my walk-in closet is my bathroom and after plopping my bag onto the window seat I head into the bathroom. Opening up the medicine cabinet I take a valium, hoping to get rid of my paranoia. When I'm done I head back in my room and about five minutes after I kick off my shoes I hear shuffling down stairs.
Freezing in my spot I listen intently trying not to freak out. No one else is supposed to be home yet. Glancing out the window I see my dad's car in the drive and it looks as if it's still running. Eyebrows furrowed and heart pounding I quietly head down the stairs moving towards the sounds. Walking into my dad's study I stop in the doorway and stare. He isn't here but you can tell the room has been ransacked. There isn't anything left, the room is completely bare. My stomach churning I keep walking towards the noises knowing I won't like what I find but at the same time knowing I have to make sure. Just as I thought he's in his room, and like his office it's practically bare.
I watch as he throws the picture album back onto his bare bed and throw his antique vase he got from mom on their first anniversary into the box on the dresser. I see him clutch at his hair and bend over as if in pain before he shoots up, grabs the photo album I made him and throw it across the room. When it hits the wall on the opposite side of the room I can't help but flinch. Whirling around with the box in his hand he freezes as soon as he see's me in the doorway. His black hair is ruffled, has has a five o'clock shadow, and his hazel eyes have black bruises under them. His face is red and splotchy but determined.
Even though I knew this was coming I still wasn't prepared. The hurt is easily paired with disgust as I look at him.
"You weren't even going to say goodbye were you?"
The words come out strained and I know he can probably hear it. Feeling betrayed I stand there and wait for him to answer me.
"I-I didn't want to hurt you guys. It'll be easier this way. Or at least it would've been," his voice isn't even the least bit remorseful. He doesn't care. Looking at him I replace everything I was feeling before with anger.
"That's a load of doo-doo and you know it! You're just to much of a wimp to actually face what you're doing. You-" he puts his head down as if he doesn't want to look at me when I'm yelling at him and I really lose it. "LOOK AT ME!! You just don't want to face the fact the our family has fallen apart and you don't want to pick up the pieces. You didn't want to have to face the consequences of your actions well I have news for you, they'll still be there! Every day that your breathing I hope you remember the look on my face and the pain your adding to our load. Because news flash dad-" I spat the word and watched as he flinched like I'd physically slapped him, "you aren't the only one whose hurting. You never were. You aren't the only one who lost mom, and you're certainly not the only one who lost Lacey! So have fun running away. Because I'm not going to pick up your pieces, and I'm not going to come after you."
Watching him I see that he's been affected by my words, just not as much as I'd hoped. I watch as he tries to discreetly look at the clock and I scoff at him.
"You better get to running, before they get home. Just remember that you'll never outrun this. Your wife will still be dead. One of your kids will still be dead. And you'll still have left your family like the scaredy-cat you are."
Turning to the side I watch him as he practically runs our the door and through the living room. I hold in my tears as I see him bolt through the door throw the box in his backseat, climb into the driver seat and peal out of the driveway and down the street. Squeezing my eyes shut I turn my head, and lean against the wall. Putting my hand over my mouth I try to hold the sobs in my throat, trying not to think about what just happened. Unable to help myself flashes go through my head as I relive these past three months over. The screaming, yelling, arguing, fighting, crying. Watching my aunt fall apart in secret, my dad tear himself away from his family, putting Michael back together, and holding my own feelings away from everyone.
Suddenly exhausted of holding myself up I let myself slowly slide to the floor, and curl up into a ball remembering that day. The day Lacey died. As the memories try to bury me underground I can't help but to let the sobs pour out. I can't hold them in anymore. It isn't fair. Looking at the clock myself I hurry to our downstairs bathroom and look in the mirror. Staring at myself in the mirror I swallow in my grief, and splash my face with cold water. Michael will be here soon, and I'm gonna have to tell him.
Dreading eight o'clock I walk to the kitchen and start the process of cooking macaroni, listening for when the door will open. As soon as I've added the finishing touches to the mac and cheese I hear the door open and Michael and John bickering as they walk through the house. Feeling the tears start to fill my eyes I quickly blink them away and separate the mac and cheese to three bowls and put some away for April when she gets home. The two of them sit down at the island and I quickly place the bowls in front of the two stinky boys. As we eat I listen to the boys describe how they're days were and how the practice went. When they're done I tell them about my day-except dad- and the new guy. Which leads to them making up theories of where the new guy came from and wondering if he'd join the football team. Grabbing their bowls and placing them in the sink I grab each of them a bowl of ice-cream. Strawberry for Michael and Chocolate for John. Placing the bowls in front of them I turn to the fridge and pull out the chocolate sauce pouring about 1/4 of the bottle into each of their bowls and giving them spoons.
They both look up at me with goofy smiles on their faces before they turn to their bowls and dig in as if they other guys from the team will magically show up and steal it from them. Letting the shimmer of a smile come on my face I wait until they're done, and then grab the bowls. As Michael and John walk to the door I do up the dishes we've dirtied and wait for Michael to meet me in the kitchen again. Listening to them laughing and joking as they walk to the door, I listen to it slam shut, and Michael's footsteps as he comes back. Turning around I look at him as he tries to get more ice cream.
"Michael," the sound of my voice gets me his full attention. Looking into his big green eyes (the only trait all three of us got from our mom) I feel my courage start to shrivel up. Taking a deep breath I gather up my courage again. Looking into his eyes I try to prepare myself as I say, "Michael he's gone. He left this afternoon. And I don't think he's coming back."
I watch his expression change from confusion, to disbelief. He charges off towards dad's old office and when he sees the barrenness of it he bolts to his bedroom. When he comes across the same thing he turns to me with hurt in his eyes and shouts, "What did you do? What did you do to make him leave?! Bring him back! It's your fault, bring him back!"
Feeling like I've been shot through the heart I calmly reply, "I didn't do anything Michael. He just couldn't handle it anymore I guess. I'm sorry."
Michael's face screws up into rage and he screams at me, "NO! BRING HIM BACK!! IT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS. YOU PROMISED! WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE FIXED!"
He continues on yelling as I slowly step forward and say his name. He looks at me with such pain in his eyes I almost fall to my knees.
"You promised me. You said we would fix ourselves. But now he's gone. Bring him back Lilly. Please bring him back," his voice cracks as he says this and I really have to fight off my tears now. Walking forward I say,
"Michael I intend to keep my promise. We aren't broken yet, just a little bent. I can't bring him back and I am so, so sorry. But I'm still here, and I love you. I won't leave. I promise."
That's all it takes. He falls in a heap to the floor, the tears pouring out of his face as he breaks down. Rushing forward I catch him just as we reach the ground. Clinging to me like I'll disappear into thin air he whispers in the saddest and most scared voice I've ever heard, "Don't leave Lilly. Please don't leave me."
Letting the tears stream down my face I hold him as he rests his head in my lap and stroking his hair I whisper back, "I won't. I promise you I'll always be here. I'm not going anywhere."
His sobs pick up and I can barely keep myself to just let the tears fall out of my eyes. As we sit there, curled up together, trying to fight the waves of pain I begin to sing the one song we've always known. The one song we never shared with anyone else.
"Can you hear that sigh
Oh don't start yet
Never hear you cry
I'll always be your net.
Don't ever have to crawl
Or worry too
Cuz if you ever fall
I'll be here to catch you.
Oh, I'll be here to catch you."
As I sing the song we made at five his sobs slowly come to a stop, as he listens to me sing and soon he's asleep as I try my hardest not to let my own gut wrenching sobs break free.