I stared miserably outside the window, watching the houses and buildings pass by.
It's all a big mistake.
She's not gone.
We're just driving back home. She's going to be right there, probably painting like she did when she was alone, and waiting for me to come back so we could spend time together.
I closed my eyes, let out a breath and pressed my forehead to the window.
Painting. How many times had I seen her stroking her paintbrush on the surface of a cloth, turning the ordinary into the extraordinary?
The thought made the bright colors of her paints swirl in my vision. Her paintings had been everywhere in her room. It was her escape, her chance to create something beautiful, her talent.
A talent I had not inherited.
I felt my stomach churn, and I began questioning myself. How well did I really know my mother? How close was I to her? My eyebrows furrowed. Was I even a good daughter?
Something like irritation bubbled inside of me and I clenched my fists. What did I do for my mother? Why didn't I ask her these things sooner?
You never spent enough time with her. You didn't care for her at all. You were off, dozing while she was fighting for her life.
I exhaled, irritation fuelling anger directed towards myself. Why didn't I wake up sooner? Why didn't I check on her earlier, take care of her like she always did?
I clutched the car door handle, scratching its surface roughly with my nails. Stupid, stupid Amy. I exhaled. Stupid, stupid Amy.
"Amy?"
I whipped my head to look at Mrs Janet. We were waiting at a red signal. She hesitated for a moment on seeing what must be my raging expression.
"What?" I finally demanded.
"It'll be okay."
"No, it won't. It's not going to be okay." I could feel my anger spilling out of my mouth. "She's dead. You hear me? Dead! She's not going to come back, and it's my fault. So no, it's not going to be okay. It's never going to be okay! "
I shouldn't. I shouldn't be yelling, and I definitely shouldn't be yelling at Mrs Janet. The guilt was only an addition to my anguish.
Everything is so messed up. Everything.
Damn it, damn it, damn it!
My cheeks were wet. Tears blurred my vision. Everything is awful. I couldn't do anything for her. I'm so awful. It's all my fault. If I were careful, she would've been here.
I hate myself. I hate fate. I hate everything that took her away from me.
I don't have the strength for any of this. I don't. I should just die.
"Amy."
I didn't say anything. I only waited for Mrs Janet to tell me what an ungrateful brat I was.
But her expression only softened on seeing me. She reached out to squeeze my hand. Her warm touch instantly flashed an image of my mother in my head.
"You are right. She's not going to come back. But none of it was your fault. Many things are in our hands, and many times we may change our destiny, but we cannot alter the rest. That's just how fate works. Your mother...she was to leave us today, and she did."
I listened silently—not completely understanding—but listening.
"But we have each other, Amy. We're never alone. I'm right beside you and we'll get through this together. Just take a deep breath, okay? And don't forget; time is the best healer. Try diverting your mind till we get there. You can handle this." She stopped. Then she said, "You're brave. I love you."
I couldn't say anything. I only nodded. Her voice laced with concern and her soothing words of comfort somewhat loosened the tight knot in my chest. I took a deep breath like she had instructed and it made me feel stronger, bolder. She gave me a new rod to hold on; the rod of strength, courage, and most of all, patience.
"I love you, too," I finally croaked. I couldn't say anything else. I wanted to thank her, I wanted to apologise, but nothing came out of my mouth.
The rest of the journey was spent in silence. I'd quickly push away thoughts of my mother every time they came to me. We reached the hospital in a few minutes, and went back to the same empty corridor where we had sat previously. But this time, there wasn't the flicker of hope I had before, the hope that my mother would be fine.
I shivered, my heart trembling with uneasiness. What if I wasn't prepared for what I'm about to see? I certainly hadn't been prepared to receive the news.
A body lay on the hospital bed, under the white sheet, unmoving. I knew she was there. I needed to see her. Maybe nothing had happened to her. She was fine. I came closer and slowly pulled the sheet to see her face, and I touched it. Cold. 'Mom?' I said shakily. No response.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Stop. Just stop. Don't imagine it. Just don't.
The same doctor we had talked to earlier was waiting for us outside the room. He shook his head when he saw me.
"I'm sorry," he said. "We tried our best."
I could sense the sympathy in his voice. I gulped, holding back the tears that once again had erupted in my eyes. I could only nod in response. Mrs Janet put an arm around my shoulder.
"Come on," she said. "We should go inside."
I saw my own reflection as the doctor opened the half-glass door. We stepped inside. I squinted my eyes at the glare of the fluorescent lights on the white tiles. My eyes travelled up to the only bed in the room. A body lay on it, covered with a white sheet just as I had pictured it. Keep it together. Don't lose it. You can do this.
I forced myself to move forward till I was right in front of the bed. Till I was right in front of her. As if to distract myself, my eyes wandered to the monitor beside the bed, and the instruments kept on a silver tray. To the far right of the room, the long, cream-colored curtains reminded me of my own home.
"Amy," Mrs Janet prompted me. "You have to see her. One last time."
"Right," I said. I never thought I'd hear those words. Never.
My hand trembling, my heart beating fast, I slowly pulled the sheet off her face.
It was the first time I'd seen her after the accident. Her pale face, her eyes shut forever, her lips white.
I can't do this.
I pulled the white cover over her face quickly. I turned around, and with my head bent, tears threatening to spill over at any moment, I bolted out of the room, not heeding Mrs Janet's repeated calls.
Maybe Mrs Janet had made me feel better, but nothing in the world could've prepared me for this. Nothing. I thought of getting out of this miserable hospital that I'd begun to hate but then decided against it. So I barged out of the room but stood, just outside, hands covering my face, crying my eyes out. I can't handle this. No way. This wasn't even meant to happen. How did this even happen?
How did it happen?
The doctor might have an idea. She couldn't just leave me like this, could she?
How...
Was it an accident? But what kind of accident? There were no cars nearby and there was nothing so dangerous in that dreaded alley that could cause such an injury. Or maybe...
Maybe she was attacked. But I shivered at the thought. I couldn't think of one person who would do this to her. What sort of enmity could someone have with a woman as kind as my mother?
And why didn't I think of these things earlier?
I gritted my teeth, frustrated, confused, unable to comprehend anything. Fresh tears were now in my eyes. Why doesn't anything make sense?
"Amy?"
I jerked out of my reverie. It wasn't Mrs Janet. She was still inside. Instead, it was a man's voice. I hurriedly wiped my tears and lifted my head up to see who it was, knowing fully well what a tired, defeated and miserable wreck I looked like.
I didn't recognise him. He was sitting on the bench, and his face looked a lot similar to my father's: a sharp jawline, black hair, and big, brown eyes. He wore a black suit, matched with a red striped tie.
He wasn't alone. A girl sat next to him. She seemed almost my age and height, her eyes and hair much like her father's, and a slightly upturned nose. She rested her elbows on her knees, her chin supported by her fists.
Who were these people? And how did this man know my name? I'd never even seen them before. And I was too tired to meet anyone new at this time, anyway.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I asked, trying, trying, to sound polite, given my exhausted mind and the emptiness that swallowed me from within.
"You probably don't recognise me." He had a deep voice. "I'm your uncle. And this is your cousin, Heather."
Oh. I did remember my dad mentioning about his brother—my uncle—and his daughter Heather. They lived in California, but rarely came to visit because my uncle was often busy with his job there.
"Oh," I muttered, unsure of what to say. I was certainly not in the state of mind to meet new people. How did they happen to visit now? "Hello."
"Hello, Amy." He got up, although his daughter didn't move. "Heather and I have just moved back to New York. We reached your neighbourhood only about half an hour ago." He shook his head. "I heard. I'm sorry for what happened. I really am."
Heather looked away, for some reason. Was that disgust in her eyes? It made me wonder if her relationship with her father was good or not. Anyhow, I nodded at him in response. "Okay," I whispered.
I still didn't find them very approachable, though. Something seemed...off. Like they weren't meant to be here.
"Where is your father?" my uncle asked gently.
I whipped my head up, alarmed by the question he asked. He seemed surprised at my reaction and I was genuinely surprised myself, before I realised why I had so violently jerked my head.
I didn't even know where my own father was.
"I..." I was at a loss for words. What could I say? I didn't even know where he might be. I didn't even know how my mother met with the accident.
I didn't even know how my mother met with the accident.
The sound of the door clicking open behind me made me turn around. Mrs Janet and the doctor strode out of the room. I silently thanked them for saving me from the misery of having to answer my uncle's question.
"Doctor," I said immediately.
He raised his eyebrows. "Yes?"
"Do you have any idea...any idea of how the accident happened?" My voice cracked at the word accident.
"Well..." he seemed nervous, uncomfortably shifting balance from foot to foot. "It was definitely a car accident. The bruise on the head gives no other indication." Then, seeing the expression on my face, he paused and added, "I'm really sorry."
Car accident.
So it was only a car accident?
"Never mind," I said. "Thank you anyway, for all your efforts."
I turned around without waiting for an answer and walked out of the corridor.
It was definitely a car accident. The bruise on the head gives no other indication.
I passed through the corridors, walked down the staircase back the way we came, and finally reached outside in the open.
But what about the wall, then? What about my father?
My heart—pierced by the broken glass of pain, stabbed by the dagger of separation—also burned with the flames of curiosity. There were lots of questions to be answered.
It was dark; the sun had set. I was unsure of how much time had passed in the hospital. I folded my arms and glanced around. The occasional car moved by, but otherwise there was hardly any movement on the street. Under the glare of the closest streetlight, a brown furred cat was engrossed in the tedious work of licking its paws. The only sound I could hear was the chirping of the cricket.
If only. If only I could spend a little more time with my mother. What wouldn't I have given to buy one more precious moment with her?
Mom. Why you? I could've given my life for you. Why didn't God take me instead?
I wish I could bargain with him. Give your soul back and take mine instead.
Eventually, I sighed. Futile. All those thoughts were futile. There was nothing I could do for her now, I thought, as my heart shattered to pieces. Nothing.
I closed my eyes and exhaled softly.
No. There was still one thing I could do.
How it all happened. What the deal was with that screeching wall. Where my father was.
I could find it all out. For her.
Mom, I thought, finally determined. I'll find out. I'll find out where dad is. I'll find out how this happened to you. How I'm going to do that, I'm not sure, but I'm going to start from the wall. I'm not going to stop searching till I get my answers. I've made this decision for me, for you, for dad. I love you. Forever.
"Amy?"
Startled, I turned around. It was Heather.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb. You mind if I join you?"
I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I couldn't even register her simple question. "Uh...sorry what?"
"Um, do you mind if I join you?"
"Oh, not at all," I answered, feeling like an idiot. Why did I have to make it so awkward?
"It's okay if you want to be alone. I'll come back later."
"No, it's alright," I said quickly. "Sorry, I was daydreaming."
She smiled. She came close and stood next to me. I turned my gaze back to the empty street.
"What are Mrs Janet and my uncle doing inside?" I asked her.
She shook her head. "Discussing arrangements for the funeral."
My insides churned when she said funeral. "Oh."
We stayed quiet for some time.
"Amy."
I quietly let out an exasperated breath, a little annoyed. Maybe I didn't want to talk to anyone. Or maybe I just wanted to be left alone. I should have just told her to come back later.
What was wrong with me?
"I don't have a mother, either." She pressed her lips in a thin line. "I know what it feels like to lose one. And I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you that."
Oh. "I'm sorry too."
She nodded. I knew my cousin didn't have a mother. My uncle and Heather had moved to California when she passed away.
I disliked it when people told me they were sorry about someone I'd lost. I had lost someone before, and I'd come to realise just how small the words 'I'm sorry' were when compared to the bottomless pit of grief.
I didn't want to be rude. I understood people were just trying to help, in some sort of way. But to me, all I could see was that they would never understand the pain.
Heather might understand. But I'd hardly known her for a day, even if she was my cousin.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Not now." I snapped.
"But it's related to—"
"I said no! You don't tend to talk when your mother has just died, you know."
She flinched, and I realised what I had just said.
"That's not what I—"
"I wonder what it feels like, huh?" she retorted. "Because I've never lost a mother, you know." She shurgged sarcastically. "Oh, and what did you say? That's not what you meant? You tell me, then, what could you possibly mean by 'you don't tend to talk when your mother has just died'?"
"Look, I—"
Heather opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, the hospital's doors slid open. We both turned to see my uncle coming out, followed by Mrs Janet.
Mrs Janet walked towards me and placed a hand on my shoulder. "The funeral will be tomorrow in the morning."
I nodded, sneaking a glance at Heather. Her fists were clenched. What had I just done? How could I have been so mean?
"You need rest, Amy." I turned to look at my uncle. "Your neighbour and I will take care of everything. You should go back home."
"So...I'll be alone at home?" I asked.
"Heather can stay with you," my uncle suggested.
Well, that was going to be difficult.
********
A/N: Hey guys! Hope you're having a great day! What do you think of Heather and her father? Leave a thought in the comments, and don't forget to vote if you liked the chapter! Thanks :-)