P h o t o #18 - Pictures Of A Forgotten Past
~Emma's POV~
Stepping out into the night sky, I had realized that gray clouds had formed across the upper atmosphere, peppering over the beautiful sight we had all witnessed tonight once again. I sighed.
"Th-Thanks for the ride." I stammered, turning my head back to face Elliot sitting in the driver's seat. A sudden chill coursed through the air. I adjusted my jacket over my forming goosebumps.
Elliot didn't say a word, didn't even spare a glance at me. In fact, he hadn't said one word the entire ride home. It seemed like the whole car was engulfed in an thick, tense air.
At any other time, I would have ignored it, passing it off as the same old, mood swing-y Elliot. But this was not like any other time. He was paler, more distant that usual. His eyes were darker, something consuming all of the green in his hazel iris', leaving a dark, jagged brown in it's wake.
I thought back to the short moment that we shared alone together just a few hours earlier. His asthma attack. His shadow that seemed to stretch across the mucky ground at least thirty feet long, castes by the milky moonlight. His smile.
A shiver ran up my spine at the thought. I adjusted my jacket again, wondering why I was so cold tonight.
As I watched Elliot's dark car pull out of my cracked concrete driveway, listening to the sound of pulled out rubble being kicked up by the wheels. As I gave the car a small wave, another thought came to surface in the ocean of my brain.
I wondered what left Elliot so blank yesterday, his eyes always glazed over. His imagination seemed to overtake him quite a lot, something that I had never seen happen to him. It made me a little worried.
When we had that small, somewhat serious conversation on the benches, he appeared to put a lot of thought into every answer he gave me, taking time to himself before responding. That was another thing I had never see him do before.
My front door closed with a click and a creak, echoing throughout the now sleeping house. I looked at the clock by the closet. 12:53 a.m. I breathed out a breath in relief, knowing the darkness could only mean that my grandmother was fast asleep in her master bedroom and wouldn't hear me coming in an hour later than my curfew.
But the darkness was a whole other thing. I was never good in the pitch blackness of the otherwise comforting house, always having the light on my alarm clock to gleam in my room at night. It was one thing I quickly took notice of when I first moved in here with grandmother.
The clouds must have shifted outside, because a sliver of white light flickered through the window of the front door, illuminating the biggest picture that hung on the wall in front of me.
My father's sparkling brown eyes stared back at me, his model-like smile brightening up the entire picture. His black hair that was an exact copy of mine curled in wild bundles down to his strong shoulder blades. His face was beyond handsome, and it always was in my early memories. There was no wonder as to why my mother had fallen for this man at first sight, just as she used to tell me in the stories of the event in my childhood, me always thinking of their love story as just like the princess' in the old story books we always had laying around the house. I was always willing to listen to those stories, but not only for the tale. I usually asked to hear of them once more just to listen to my mother's velvety voice, loving it's sound as it rocked me to sleep.
My eyes drifted back up to the picture. Looking at it now more carefully, I noticed how it was a professional picture dating years back to my father's late college days.
It was such a nice, clean picture. My grandmother had never in all of her years let even a speck of dust alter the framework of it. After all, it was a picture of her one and only son, who she adored with every inch of her heart and soul. Staring at it now only made me wonder why I always chose to ignore it, blocking it out of my line of vision whenever I went near the familiar frame.
A crack of loud thunder shook the house like the lash of a whip, lightning illuminating the first floor of the house in all of it's glory. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the suddenness of the noise. I quickly scurried up the stairs and to the comfort of my messy room.
Once my door was finally shut tight, I swiftly slipped into my old pajamas that always consisted of a T-shirt, this time a pink one, and gray sweat pants and crawled under my dark blue covers without a second thought, which was a new thing for me, given all of the overthinking I do in my spare time.
Misty pawed at the comforters edge, asking for entrance into my self made cocoon. After awhile the small cat stopped, deciding to sleep in her usual spot on one of my mismatched pillows.
But at the time I didn't notice the animal at all. I was to busy coming to the hard conclusion that I subconsciously never wanted to face, but always knew was there waiting for an answer.
I had never acknowledged the photograph because it was taken before I had been born. Before I was even a thought.
Before I had the chance to come around and ruin his life.
I fought back tears as I forced my eyes closed, my mothers signature that sat on the bottom right corner signed in gold print burned into the back of my eyelids.
***
I woke up once again with a throbbing headache. Of course.
"Uuuuugh." I dragged out, pulling an arm over my eyes to shield the morning's light away. "Why do I feel like I'm hungover or something."
If anything, I was probably hungover with all of the mixed feelings I've felt over the past twenty four hours.
At this point, all I wanted were a plate of my grandmother's famous blueberry pancakes. Those would melt away the pain, definitely.
But at the very thought of my grandmother, my whole body became as stiff as a board. Misty meowed and jumped off of my pillow in reaction to my movement.
I had completely forgotten to tell my grandmother that I had left. She didn't even know where I was the entire time yesterday. I bet she didn't even know I was back home, basking in the warmth of my bed while she was worried sick. My heart twisted at the thought of the poor old women going through another loss, or thinking she had lost another person in her family. I knew how much her thoughts ran wild-I guess that's where I got it from.
I didn't want to worry her any longer, so I quickly mustered all of the courage I could scrape up to face a deserved round of grandma-zilla and began down the stairs.
The house was quiet. Too quiet for an anxiety-stricken seventy six year old.
I made an effort to let my feet stomp down the carpeted steps, hitting the hard wood floor with a loud thump just for emphasis. The first thing that hit me at the bottom of the stairs was not my grandmothers flaring anger though, it was the smell of maple syrup.
I arched my eyebrows as I rounded the corner and into the kitchen. There sat my grandmother at the kitchen table with her back turned to me, across from her sat a plate of blueberry pancakes, my two morning pills on a folded napkin and a glass of sparkling water. It had then hit me that I had forgotten to take my two pills last night before bed. That explained the head ache and racing thoughts.
My grandmother turned in her chair to face me, a heart-warming smile etched into her aged features. "Good morning, darling. I made you my specialty today!"
I could feel the questioning look make it's way onto my face. Before I knew it, words scrambled out if my mouth before I could process them. "Y-You're not mad at me for leaving without permission?"
My grandmother's smile faltered for a moment, like she was surprised at my sudden outburst, but she quickly regained herself, her eyes crinkling thoughtfully. "I got a call from that one boy. What was his name...ah, yes, Parker. The one with the glasses I had caught a glimpse of out my window when they picked you up." She contemplated for a moment before going on, "Yes, he called me and explained that you were going to be taking the day off to hang out with your friends. Though I was a bit angry when I found a bowl of spilt cereal on my table." I shifted and mumbled apologetically as I made my way to my side of the table. The women thought for another moment, "Such a nice, mature boy. You should keep your eye on him."
Heat rushed to my cheeks as I sat down in front of the well prepared breakfast. "Gr-Grandmother..."
As I put a forkful of food into my mouth, I couldn't help but come to a certain conclusion. 'Well, it's not only those boys who would fall apart without him. I'd be in pretty hot water if it wasn't for his phone call.' A small smile crept to my lips, not only from the scrumptious taste of the food that lay before me, but also at the thought of it all. 'I'll have to thank him some time.'
After taking a few my bites of the delicious meal, I finally opened my eyes to take my two pills. As my hand reached over to grab to two tablets, my thumb ran over something.
My eyes connected with a sight I hadn't noticed until now. That's why my grandmother was quietly sitting in the kitchen by herself for who knows how long.
I grabbed my pills swiftly and downed them not a second to soon, my a light sting where my thumb touched the smooth front of the picture of a smiling family.
My family.
"Ah, these," My grandmother began as I sat down the glass of water. "I found them in that old leather trunk at the bottom of the closet. I wonder how I had forgotten about all of these pictures."
My appetite completely vanished at the sight of her face, staring up at me. Her face so happy, so excited.
So ignorant of what was to come in the the next few years, the last few years of her life.
I stood up from where I sat, my chair squeaking and hitting the walk behind me. "I'm sorry. I-I just remembered I really need to study for a test tomorrow."
My grandmother's eyes saddened. She knew how sensitive I was to pictures like these, but she always seemed to bring out a few to try and help me get over what had happened. Each time it ended like this as well.
Just as I was about to leave, my grandmother spoke up with an understanding, yet all around directness in her light voice, "I want you to call the hospital, Emma. You can't run away from this anymore. You need to speak with him."
I stood still, my lungs devoid of air, then walked stiffly out of the kitchen without a response for her words, hearing but still ignoring my grandmother's calls. 'Why does she have to do this every time.' I thought angrily, only to feel immediately guilty. It wasn't her fault. She just wanted to do what she thought was best for me, even if I didn't agree.
All if this was my fault, not hers. She didn't need to be dragged into my problems.
I ran up the stairs and locked the door to my bedroom, wanting to give myself some alone time, some time to breathe. I stayed up against the door for a moment, my eyes searching frantically around my messy room for a distraction, anything to numb out the sickness that rose and fell in my stomach like tsunamis ready to hit their target coast.
Finally, my eyes landed on my book bag that sat against the chair to my desk. I ran over and pulled out my Trig textbook, opening it up to the book marked page that I needed to study for the test tomorrow as I sat down into my painted wooden chair.
At least I didn't lie to my grandmother about that, a thing I seemed to easily do nowadays. A grimace swept my face.
And of course, to my dismay, I had to land on a page with a picture of a happy family teaching their children how to do simple forms. I stared at it in shock. It was an unrelated picture - just a simple thing to put in as decoration in the book, just like most textbooks have - but it was enough to set off the overflowing dam behind my eyes.
The waterworks immediately started after that. My head fell into my hands as I slouched over into my seat. Stray tears wove themselves in and out of my thin fingers and down my arms, only to be soaked up by the pair of shorts covering my thighs where my elbows rested.
I struggled to choke down sobs, not wanting anyone to hear my sorrow. A lump larger than before formed in my throat. I tried swallowing the hiccups down past it, but I couldn't fight it any longer. I got up and walked towards my bed on the other sight of the room, only noticing for a moment the sunlight glistening out of the window and warming my sheets before grabbing a blue pillow and drowning out my choked hiccuping out for good.
And that's how I stayed. I stayed in that state of utter desolation for minutes, maybe even hours. I hadn't even checked the time that slowly clicked by next to me on my digital clock. I hadn't even noticed when my tears dried into my cheeks, or when my eyes lids became so droopy after that long, pitiful cry that I couldn't even hold then open anymore.
The only thing that I had come to notice was that I was sorry for not noticing. For not noticing that pain that she had endured, a pain that must have been much more brutal than the pain I felt now. That I had continuously felt for the past four years.
That I had no doubt in my mind that I would be feeling for the rest of my life.
***
Sort of a melancholy chapter, but don't worry, it gets happier from pretty much here on out.
Well, for the most part. Out with the gloom and doom, I always say!
Thanks for reading!