by Skyla Madi
Page 41
“Mom. . . ” I’m looking at the kitchen benches filled with golden pastries and pies of all kinds. Mom pulls a roast chicken from the oven, surrounded by crispy roast vegetables. My hand flies up to cover my mouth. She’s out of control. She’s been cooking none stop—all of my dad’s favorite foods.
“Are you hungry?” She beams at me, but then I see it. Her face is strained, she’s trying really hard not break and I’m not sure if she’s doing it for me, herself or Dad. It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen and I have no idea what to do.
“Mom,” I say again. I hate that it’s the only thing I manage to squeeze out of my mouth.
She looks at me, her bottom lip quivering. She shakes her head and carries the hot tray toward the empty dining table. She manages to burn her finger before she gets there, dropping the roast chicken and vegetables onto the floor. Mom’s hands shoot up to cover her mouth and I reach out for her, but she flinches away, tearing out another piece of my heart.
“I’m okay,” She breathes swallowing her sadness.
“Talk to me. ” I tell her. “Please, say something. ”
She leans against the bench, pushing two pies onto the floor. They smash on the tiles, sending purple and red colors everywhere, filling the room with a delicious fruit smell. She’s trembling uncontrollably, but she refuses to acknowledge it. “We’ll have to have apple pie for dinner. I hope that’s okay. ”
She pulls a knife from the top drawer and cuts at the pie.
“I don’t want pie. ” My voice is stern and I don’t want to upset her, but she’s freaking me out.
“Well, what do you want?”
“I want you to talk to me. ”
She slams the knife into the sink and I jump slightly. “What do you want me to say, Olivia? I’m trying to move on!”
The hole in my chest deepens. “This is your idea of moving on? Cooking all of Dad’s favorite foods?” She keeps her eyes on the sink. “You don’t have to move on, not yet. He died a few hours ago. . . a few hours, Mom. You need to grieve, you need to feel. . . ”
She snaps. “You want me to feel? You want me to break?” Mom grabs the apple pie and throws it to the ground. She stomps on it while grabbing a tray of pumpkin pastries. She throws the ceramic serving dish against the cupboard and it smashes. I flinch, unable to hold back my tears. I watch her completely destroy everything in the kitchen, including herself and I can’t do anything.
Food and glass splatter and rebound off my skin while she screams, spitting and crying everywhere. I’ve never seen anything so heartbreaking in my life. She slides down the cupboard, crying so hard her face turns red. Her mouth is open, her eyes closed tightly and lines of spit are falling out. She drags her legs up to her chest and rests her head against them. I step across glass and food just to get to her. I need to hold her, to let her know I’m here for her. I pull her into me and she cries on my shoulder. I’ve never felt so helpless than I do in this moment. I can’t help my mom, I can’t even help myself.
“It’s okay,” I cry, stroking her hair. “We’re going to be okay. ”
Technically, I lied. I have no idea if we’ll be okay. I have no idea what tomorrow will be like or if this is ever going to get any easier, but I did now that even though this family has lost an important member, we are still a family and that won’t change. The process is going to be long and painful, but I know we’ll get through it. That’s what families do, isn’t it? They help each other through difficult times?
“I should go to bed. ” Mom sobs. “I want to be alone. ”
She pulls away from me and climbs unsteadily to her feet.
“Do you want a shower?”
She doesn’t answer me and I follow her to her bedroom, but I don’t get a foot in the door as she closes it in my face. I rest my forehead against the cool wood. This is going to be a lot harder than I thought it’d be. . . maybe I shouldn’t have come home.
I turn down the hallway and enter my old room. I flick the light on. It’s exactly as I remember it—the white double bed with pink sheets, the white vanity table and big brown bookshelf. It isn’t much, but it’s familiar. I flick the light off, using the light that filters in from the street to guide me. I pull my phone from my pocket, slide out of my pants and pull my shirt off. The cool, clean sheets welcome me as I slide between them. This may be my room, but it smells strongly of this house, which smells like Mom and Dad—I don’t know—I can’t explain the scent. It’s a smell that’s unique to the house. It smells like home. Through blurry eyes I unlock my phone and see that I have a text from Seth.
FROM: SETH. TIME: 12:36 A. M
I miss you. . .
I call him. I know he needs sleep and I know I spoke to him a few hours ago, but I need to hear his voice. My heart sends a rapid pulse around my body when I hear his husky voice answer. “O?”
“Hey,” I twist lock of my hair around my index finger.
“How’d it go?”
There’s the question I was kind of hoping to avoid. Then again, if that were true I wouldn’t have called him. I can’t tell him. I can’t talk about it yet. Seeing Mom lose control and break down killed me. When I picture it in my mind, my heart breaks all over again. I inhale shakily, unaware that I’ve started crying. Seth doesn’t say anything else, just listens.
“How did you do it?” I ask, my voice shaking. “How did you handle seeing your Mom so broken?”
I hear him expel a breath. “I didn’t. I took off, leaving her to deal with all on her own. ”
“But you—”
“I deal with it now, but in the beginning I couldn’t. It was too hard for me. I guess that’s why I feel responsible for her. . . ”
I let his words sink in. Seth blames himself for his mother’s alcohol addiction because he wasn’t there to support her when she needed it. Maybe it is a good idea I came home after all. Would she have kept cooking if I hadn’t? The thought terrifies me.
“How was your mom when you got home?” He asked me.
I cringe, picturing her eerily, happy smile. “I can’t even. . . You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. ”
“Try me. ”
I wrack my brain trying to think of a way to describe what happened. It was madness. Chaotic. Heart breaking. “She was happy. . . and I was so mad, but when I came inside—into the kitchen—it was filled with all of Dad’s favorite foods and. . . then she completely lost control” I swallow a sob. “I-I can’t. . . ”
“People have different way of coping. If she’s expressing emotion then that’s a good sign. ”
I nod even though he can’t see me.
“I miss you already. It’s insane. ” He says with a little chuckle. His voice is low like he’s embarrassed and my heart swells.
“I miss you, too. I shouldn’t be keeping you up. . . ”
I can hear the smile on his lips. “This isn’t the first time you’ve kept me up at night alone in my bed. ”
His words make my stomach do flips. “And here I was thinking I’m the only weirdo that lies awake at night thinking of you. ”
He chuckles. “Definitely not. ”
My eyelids become heavy as I snuggle down lower in my bed. “When will I see you again?”
“Tonight. Tomorrow. I told you, if you need me I’ll be there. ”
“I mean after you’ve done everything you need to. If it all goes to plan for you, when will I see you again?”
“In ten days. I’m in Boston for two more days and then I go to Vegas to fight Don. ”
“Are you nervous?”
He laughs, loudly and I have to pull the phone away from my ear. “No way. I’m going to break him. ”
I half chuckle, half yawn. “Good. ”
“Are you going to watch?”
I don’t know. . . am I? There’s nothing forcing me to watch this time, but I know it’d mean a lot to Seth—and Dad—if I do.
/> “Sure, I’ll watch. I’m not going to enjoy it, but I’ll watch. ”
I hear him smile again. “You don’t have to play that game anymore, I know you like watching me fight. ”
“Watching you storm around a ring half naked and watching you beat someone with your fists are two completely different things. I like the former not the latter. ”
His sleepy laugh makes me smile.
“I should go. . . I don’t know what to expect tomorrow, but it probably has something to do with funeral plans. I love you. ”
“Love you, too and remember if you need me, for anything at all, call me. I’m only two hours away. ”
I assure him I’ll call if I need him and we say our goodbyes. As soon as I hang up and get comfortable, I fall asleep, dreading tomorrow.
Chapter Eighteen
I slip into the long, black dress Mom bought me for the funeral. It clings tightly to my curves and I feel strange wearing something like this to my own dad’s wedding. It isn’t anything flashy or over the top. It doesn’t expose my cleavage or show too much back, but it’s too clingy, showing the shape of my body and the curve of my backside. Mom wanted Dad to have an elegant, black tie, night time funeral in a beautiful ceremony in the cemetery overlooking the port. Apparently, Mom and Dad used to have picnics up under the small oak tree—which is a big oak tree now. How they could stomach eating in a cemetery is beyond me. I straighten my hair and wear down, so I’m able to use it as a curtain if I need to.
I clip in two pearl earrings and hear a knock at the door. I step out of my room, but Mom rushes down the hallway before me. Who are we expecting on a day like today?
I hear his voice—deep and rough. My body isn’t stupid. It stands to attention recognizing the voice immediately. I march down the hallway and see his beautiful frame standing before me in a casual, all black suit. Darryl and Jackson’s faces smile at me from behind Seth. Seth’s eyes rake me, obviously liking my dress and if Seth likes it, then this is definitely not something I should wear to a funeral.
“What are you doing here?” I say, almost out of breath.
“Ask your Mom. ”
She smiles sweetly at me. “I invited them. I know how important they were to your father. Everyone he loved should be here today. ”
My eyes water and I rush to her, squeezing her against me. The fact that she did something so selfless on a day like today means more to me than anything, and today is going to go so much smoother because of it. I turn to Seth, wiping my eyes careful not to smudge my make-up.
“You’re supposed to be in Vegas. ”
He shrugs. “So I’ll go tomorrow. ”
I hold my arms out and he comes to me. I wrap my arms around his waist. I haven’t heard his voice since the night we spoke on the phone. Every time he calls, I miss it and every time I call back, he doesn’t answer. It’s exhausting, but he’s here now and my day just got infinitely better.
Jackson and Darryl hand Mom and me a bouquet of flowers. The blues, reds, yellows, pinks and oranges all mesh together so beautifully in their green wrapper. Mom drops them into vases and positions them around the house.
Jackson and Darryl sit on the couch, having a conversation in low tones while I sit on the arm of Dad’s armchair, leaning into Seth. His thumb glides over my thigh in tiny circles and I close my eyes absorbing all of his touch. Another knock on the door forces my eyes open.
“How many more people did you call?” I ask Mom as she rushes to the door. When it opens, I can’t believe it.
“Chase!” I squeal, leaping off of the armchair. Mom squeezes him and I wait in line impatiently. It has been too long since I’ve seen my brother, way too long. He looks exactly as I remember, shaven dark hair, big bright green eyes and still so much taller than me.
He pulls me into him and I almost cry. Seeing him brings back the shock of our father’s death. He’s so happy to see us, but he carries the same sadness in his eyes as Mom and I.
“I’ve missed you so much. ” He groans, squeezing me until I’m sure I’ve run out of breath. Darryl, Seth and Jackson rise to their feet as my brother steps in to greet them. Chase meets people all the time, so chatting and being friendly comes easy to him. Darryl and Jackson go back to sitting and talking on the couch, but my brother hangs around to chat to Seth.
I step closer to them, trying to eavesdrop in on the conversation. When I get within ear reach my brother excuses himself to go get dressed in his room. I open my mouth to ask Seth what he thought of my brother, but Mom’s entrance into the room with a large serving tray of snacks grabbed my attention.
“Mom, we’re leaving in fifteen minutes. That’s a little excessive. ”
She laughs and it’s a genuine laugh that warms my ears. “The boys will take care of it, won’t you?”
Jackson and Darryl sit forward, licking their lips at the sliced fruit, potato chips and dip. Having a full house is making Mom happy which makes me happy. She loves being busy and if it makes today easier for her then the more the merrier.
***
“We look upon the final resting place of Richard James. ”
Mom leans against my brother’s shoulder, crying, as they lower my dad into the ground. My eyes are puffy and they sting from all of the make-up I’m wearing. I feel so stupid for wearing make-up. Of course I was going to cry. What the hell was I thinking? Seth holds my hand in his and his thumb brushes across the top soothingly. I look up at him. The surrounding fire torches send flickering lights across his face. It’s pinched into a sad expression and I know my dad’s death affects him more than he likes to lead on. Next to Seth and I, Jackson comforts Selena who chose to show up today in a pair of black slacks, a black tee and a beautiful knee length cardigan. She looks elegant, yet casual and I wish Mom bought me something more comfortable. This dress is so thin I can feel the cool breeze hit my body. I might as well be naked. When I look back at the coffin and realize for the one millionth time that my dad—who I saw a few days ago—is lying in there absent a heartbeat; the tears begin flowing. I lean against Seth’s side as silent tears stream down my face and he slings an arm over my shoulder. Once my father is in he ground, the MC asks us to throw in a handful of dirt and say our goodbyes. One by one we throw in handfuls of dirt and cry and talk to him. I see this kind of stuff on T. V and I always find it awkward when people talk to a coffin or a tombstone. I never really understood the purpose of it, until now.
