For Always

by Danielle Sibarium

Again, I nodded in agreement and watched Joan walk away.

  I soaked in the scene silently. Wires and leads connected my mother to monitors. For the first time in my life, she looked fragile. Deep bags hung beneath her eyes, made more relevant by the lack of color in her normally pale skin.

  I never before noticed the lines sinking into her skin, etched deeply around her eyes and mouth and wondered when they appeared. In a way they’d always been there but in my mind’s eye, she hadn’t aged at all since I was a little girl.

  She’d always been healthy and I took for granted the fact she’d always be with me, until the end of time. I no longer had that false sense of security, and I yearned for it.

  I needed to be strong. At least to appear strong, so she wouldn’t worry. I could do this, I told myself. I had to. So I did.

  I put my hand on top of hers. It was cold and looked purplish. Mom’s eyes opened. Her eyelids fluttered as if she were trying to shoo away any remnants of slumber with her long lashes.

  “Hi Honey,” her voice betrayed her fear.

  “Hey Mom. How are you doing?” I asked surprised at how solid I sounded.

  “I need a little rest so I thought I’d come here for a vacation,” she joked.

  I forced a smile in return, wanting to ask her a million questions, knowing I couldn’t.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Me? I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me,” she tried to play it off as if it were merely a minor cold. I could see through her mock bravery she was frightened, down to the core.

  “Listen, you enjoy this vacation of yours,” I began, “because it’s the last one you’re going to have for a while, got it?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

  “Good. Get some rest and I’ll be back in the morning.” I leaned over and kissed her forehead.

  “Go home. You have a lot of packing to do. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

  “Alright Mom. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  I returned to the waiting room where Maria and her parents sat waiting for me. Seeing me approach, Maria jumped up and ran over to me.

  “How is she?” Maria asked, looking nervous.

  “I don’t know.” I felt myself shiver, “She looks so . . . so . . . sick.”

  “Oh she’ll be fine,” Maria’s mother pooh-poohed with the wave of her hand like my mother was in to get a tooth pulled.

  I didn’t get offended by the apparent lack of concern. I understood it was an attempt to reassure me everything would be okay. I was used to it and I was used to Mrs. Deluci.

  If ever anyone embodied nervousness it was her. If Maria wasn’t home five minutes earlier than she was supposed to be at night, her mother would be at the corner, searching in all directions for her. She worried about everything: money, the weather, our overuse of hair products and how it would affect our scalps in years to come, you name it, she nibbled her nails contemplating it.

  “Come on, we should get going,” Maria’s father said, hoping to usher us out of the hospital. “You’ll spend the night with us,” he declared, not expecting any argument.

  “No.” I answered firmly, “I’d like to stay. I need to be here, just in case.”

  He shook his head. “It’s late. They have your phone number and ours if they need to contact you.”

  “I know, but I’d still like to stay. At least for a while.”

  Her parents exchanged a worried glance. “Then we’ll stay with you,” her mother offered.

  “I really need to be alone,” I insisted. Couldn’t they grasp that I needed to start getting used to being alone? That apparently was my plight in life.

  “Fine, then be alone at home, not here.” This time her father’s voice held a firmness I dare not challenge. He wasn’t about to give in so I had to.

  No one spoke during the ten minute ride from the hospital to our home. There was nothing to say. Maria knew it. Her parents knew it. And so did I.

  Sure they would tell me everything would be alright, trying to convince themselves as much as me, none of us believing it. What else could they say? Sorry kid, looks like you’re shit out of luck? No, that would be callous, tactless.

  The Delucis climbed up their side of the steps when we arrived home expecting me to follow. I didn’t. I went up my side of the wrought iron banister straightaway. Surprisingly they let me. Once we reached the top they waited for me to turn my key in the lock.

  “Do you want me to sleep over?” Maria offered.

  “No, I’ll be okay,” I assured her.

  She looked at her parents uncertain if she should take no for an answer. Her mother nodded.

  “If you need me call, okay?” she offered.

  “Okay.” I nodded.

  “Promise?” she asked, much like a young child.

  “Promise.”

  Maria hugged me tight over the banister. I knew they wouldn’t budge until I was safely in the house. With my heart pounding furiously against my chest, I let myself in and locked the door tight behind me.

  Not ready to go any further, I leaned against the door and slid my back down until I reached the floor. I pulled my knees into my chest and buried my face in my hands, letting the tears fall freely making it hard for me to breathe.

  I embraced the darkness. It felt right. I didn’t have to face anything. I didn’t need to see reflections and shades of truth hidden in them. Aside from me, the house was empty. I was alone and could very well be for the rest of my life.

  No. The darkness kept all that at bay.

  I called out to God. I asked, pleaded with him, I’d give up anything if only he’d spare my mother, if only he’d let her live. I was nothing more than a child, abandoned and scared. I needed safety, the unconditional love only a parent can give. I’d already lost one parent. I couldn’t face losing another.

  I stayed with my back against the door for what felt like an eternity. I remained motionless to all but my sobs throughout the night. I cried and continued to cry, oblivious to the heaviness of my eyes and the sleep that fell over me. At some point, I lost consciousness.

  The morning sunlight spilled through the glass panels at the top of the door into the hallway, letting in the radiance of the new day. The rays of gold emanating from the sun were warm and beautiful. I looked at these waves of perfection stirring me from my sleep, as a sign, everything was going to be alright.

  I believed it.

  I didn’t know the time, but I knew I had to call Jordan. Whether he left or not no longer mattered. But I needed to reach out to him, even if it were for the last time.

  Thirty-Seven

  I sat on the couch, picked up the telephone and called Jordan. I listened as the line rang and thought for a minute of hanging up. Maybe I’d wake him. It felt early. I couldn’t see the clock and knew deep down I was just searching for an excuse. I stood steadfast and let it continue to ring.

  “Hello,” his voice sounded tired and strained.

  I swallowed hard uncertain of what I would actually say. I took a deep breath and decided to speak from my heart.

  “Hi. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “No.” He sounded cold, distant. “I’m at the airport.”

  “Oh.” I felt the air seep from my lungs, and hoped I didn’t sound as disappointed as I felt. When he said that, I realized this could be goodbye.

  Forever.

  I sensed something final, that I might never see him again. I thought my throat was going to close. “I have something important to say.” I stopped. I had to do this in person. I needed to do this the right way. “If I leave my house right now, do I have time? Before the plane takes off?”

  I heard loud breaths as he contemplated something. “You can’t talk me out of leaving. My mind is set.”

  I had a million questions I wanted to ask. Why? Where? When would he be back? But more important things needed to be said, like how did we get here?

  And how could we be out of time?
<
br />   And then, like a freight train running at full steam right off the edge of a cliff, it hit me. Redemption. I couldn’t let him leave feeling angry or hating me. That’s when terrible things happened. I had to set this right. If not, I would regret if for the rest of my life.

  “I won’t ask you to stay, but is there any way you could change your flight? I’ll pay for it. I’ll meet you there. I’ll even buy a ticket for myself to get past security if I have to.”

  “Just say what you have to say.” The irritation in his voice felt like a cold hand slapping me across the face.

  “I’m sorry.” I cleared my throat, “I haven’t been a good friend to you, and that’s really unfair, because you’ve always been a good friend to me. It’s not that I didn’t want to be, because I would’ve given anything to be the one you leaned on.” I kept rambling, hoping to get it all out. “I understand why you didn’t. Why you couldn’t. I’m only sorry I gave you such a hard time about it.”

  “That’s it?” he asked, surprise creeping into his voice. Maybe he expected me to beg and plead for him to stay. I found it incredibly difficult not to.

  “No. I wanted to thank you. You’ve taught me a lot about the person I want to be, and I only hope someday you can find the peace and happiness you’ve brought into my life. I love you, Jordan. I always will. Thank you. Just, thank you for being you.”

  “Thank you?” he clarified as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “You’re thanking me?”

  “Yes.” I swallowed hard, looking for a way to keep him on the phone, to keep connected to him. “And there’s one other thing. Please, don’t leave to avoid me. I promise, even if I see you in passing, I won’t say hello. I won’t contact you. If you’re going to Maria’s, have her call me, I’ll make sure you don’t see me.”

  “Why does it matter?” he asked.

  “Because you need your support system, you need your family and friends. If I’m why you want to get away, it’s not right. I’ll do what I can to help. I’m leaving in a matter of days. Just stick it out until I’m gone.”

  “What’s in it for you?”

  I fought hard against the impulse to snap back at him and let him know how insulting that question was. But this time I wouldn’t allow it to be about me, this time it was all about him.

  “I get to know you’re okay. Or at least that you have a shot at being okay.”

  “I have to go.” He hung up.

  I expected a waterfall of tears. Instead, a sad sense of calm came over me. I felt peaceful, like I was back on track. I did the right thing, difficult as it was. With my newfound serenity I clutched the phone, closed my eyes, and once again drifted off into slumber.

  The startling ring of the phone woke me. Shockwaves coursed through my system jolting me from my state of peace into an intense panic. I reached for the phone, hands trembling, goose bumps covering my skin. Something dreadful happened. I heard it in the ring: loud, brash, alarming. “Where’s Jordan?” Maria asked with a sense of urgency. “You called him, Stephanie, right? Please tell me you called him!” She sounded panicked.

  “Yes.” I yawned. “This morning. He was at the airport.”

  “But you convinced him not to go. Right?”

  I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what she was getting at or why she sounded so frazzled.

  “No. At least I don’t think so. I tried though. Why? What’s going on?”

  “Oh my God Stephanie!”

  The phone went dead.

  The doorbell sent tremors throughout my body. I still hadn’t caught my breath after the cryptic call moments ago. My mind raced, soared, but I remained befuddled, I couldn’t make sense of it.

  I cleared my throat as I opened the front door to find Maria on the other side. She stood there somber looking, her eyes watery, swollen, a tissue in her hand. Without a word from me she stepped inside and threw her arms around my neck. She held me tight and cried openly.

  I swallowed hard, understanding Jordan was gone.

  Maria let herself fall onto the couch. I sat beside her unsure if I could speak, afraid to utter the terrible thoughts racing around my mind. It felt as if the world had stopped but I remained in a spinning motion. After what felt like an eternity I found my voice.

  “What happened?”

  Maria picked up the remote control and put the television on. A special report alert ran on the bottom of the screen, while images of a plane blowing up in the sky were shown over and over again, bits and pieces sailing through the atmosphere.

  “Once again, we regret to report flight one-eighty-seven to Colorado has exploded. It’s still too early to determine the cause, however, at this time engine malfunction is suspected,” the reporter’s voice droned on.

  Now I was as confused as sunshine during a lunar eclipse. “What’s going on?”

  “Jordan,” she wailed, “was on . . . the plane,” her words were muddled in her shrill cries.

  That couldn’t be right. There was no good reason he’d be on a plane to Colorado. Maria was wrong. She had to be wrong.

  “No,” I shook my head fighting back tears. “He couldn’t have been.

  “It’s true, Stephanie,” I never saw such sadness in her eyes.

  “No. No! Don’t lie to me!” I yelled.

  Maria shook her head and cried harder as she attempted to get through to me. Her voice was low, her words garbled.

  “I would never lie to you about something like this. Never!” Speaking forced Maria to calm down. She went from sobs to sniffles.

  I began to process what she was saying. “Why Colorado?”

  “He was going to see his father. He had some things he wanted to say face-to-face.”

  I felt my blood go cold. No. He couldn’t possibly be dead. Death was permanent, forever.

  I picked my phone up and pressed redial. It went straight to voicemail. Not a good sign.

  “Did you call his mother? Maybe he changed his mind, maybe he’s home and we’re just overreacting,” I suggested.

  The corners of Maria’s lips curved up ever so slightly, cautiously. “It’s worth a shot.”

  The first three times Maria dialed the number she heard a busy signal. The fourth time she seemed to let out a sigh of relief. She tapped her foot as she waited for an answer.

  “Hi. It’s Maria.” The silence in the air was heavy burdensome. The hint of a smile she wore when she picked the phone up faded quickly and gave way once again to a sea of tears.

  In the next hour, there were moments where reality began to set in. I shook. My teeth chattered. I couldn’t keep it together. I cried hysterically in my friend’s arms, giving in to the despair I tried to hold back since I heard my mother collapsed.

  I yelled and screamed. I threw things around the house. I broke my mother’s favorite crystal. I cursed. How could this happen? Was this a trade? My mother for Jordan? Were they both being taken from me in one fell swoop?

  “I told him to tell you face to face, before making his decision.” Maria said after a long while, when we started breathing somewhat steadily. “I called him late last night. He didn’t answer, so I left a message. I told him you really needed him. I just thought . . . I hoped he would’ve changed his mind and come here instead.”

  The phone rang. I jumped for it and pushed all logic aside, hoping, praying somehow it was him.

  “Hello, Honey.” It was Mom.

  She was okay. At least for the moment.

  Once I hung up, I sent Maria home. At first she insisted on staying, but soon understood I needed time to sort out what happened. She promised - no threatened - to come back in an hour if she didn’t hear from me.

  I picked up my car keys and drove. I had no idea where I was headed, but I felt like driving far and fast. I put the radio on, blasting it as loud as it would go without being distorted. I hoped the music would distract my brain and make it stop working. I hopped on the highway paying little mind to my erratic driving or the darkening clouds above.

  Ar
ms by Christina Perri came on the radio. What were the odds? The first time I heard the song, I had an immediate connection to it. I thought it was written specifically for Jordan and me. It told our story. We slow danced to at the prom. I remembered his eyes looking down at me from time to time and his hand stroking my back softly as he mouthed the words.

  Tears streamed steadily down my face making it difficult for me to see. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hands allowing the car to swerve a little, rendering loud angry beeps from surrounding drivers.

  I brought the car to a stop. It took me a moment to recognize where I was, almost as if the vehicle made its own way there. The clouds were thick and gray. Lightning flashed across the sky, bringing with it a clap of thunder so powerful it rattled my bones.

  I got out of the car and walked. The beach was empty due to the threatening weather. The wind picked up, whirling and whistling. The waves crashed violently against the shore. I continued to walk, heading for the water, focused on the ebb and flow, lost in a world of memories and regrets.

  It all came back to me in images and flashes: the movie theater, the bus ride, the prom . . . every moment we spent together. I thought about all the nights we laughed together, the days we wasted away and the love we squandered.

  My feet continued moving forward with no destination. I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders, forcing me down into a pit of quicksand. I knew, the more you struggle, the quicker you sink. It hurt to breathe. I didn’t want this. If life was all pain and suffering and never being able to grasp what’s just beyond your reach, I was done.

  I trudged on, longing for strength, each step felt heavier than the previous one. If only I had the courage to let go. Life was crushing me. Why not just let it sweep me away altogether?

  I walked to the place where the water and sand meet, where they come together becoming one, just to be torn apart a moment later. I dropped to my knees in the wet packed sand and let the water wash past me. I ignored it, wanting only to hide my eyes and cry until my tears ran out. And if I washed away with the tide, so be it.