PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  I grit my teeth and focus on the sting in my hand as I hit the ball, trying to escape the memories threatening to overtake my mind. The ball comes sailing my way again. I bend my knees and push off the floor. My hand connects with the ball and I smile at the familiar sting spreading across my palm. This is what I need, except for the images of my last game beginning to flow my mind.

  It was the Championship game, and Dad, Mom, and Henry were decked out in our school colors. Mom was in charge of recording it for Sophie, and Dad was cheering louder than anyone. When we won, he was the first parent out on the court, hugging me, and shouting with my teammates and friends.

  My hit lands on the floor between two girls - who look at the ball like it’s diseased. The girls on my gym team laugh and give me high fives. I choke back the pain from the memory and try to laugh with them.

  Coach Jaymes blows her whistle, and we all hustle to get dressed before the bell.

  Thankfully, it’s just Henry and me for lunch today. I don’t think being around all the guys would be beneficial for my good day wish.

  We find a seat outside in the courtyard, and he gives me this look that says he isn’t going to let me try to enjoy my food in peace. Well, it’s what the school passes off as food. “Beautiful,” he starts, voice full of concern. “Skeeter found me before lunch. She told me, you and Derik had some words. So, spill it. What did the jagoff say today?”

  “Oh, you know. He just wanted me to do lunch with him.” I smirk, and unwrap my fork.

  “This again?” He rolls his eyes.

  “Yeah, again.” My brows pinch together. “He seems to think that there’s a line of guys waiting for me, and he’s next. See what I get for hangin’ out with the giant triplets?”

  His expression changes as his emotions flit across his face, confusion, comprehension, and disgust, before finally settling on fury. From the look in his eyes, I’d have to say I would hate to be Derik.

  “I’ll be back.” He drops his burger onto the tray and cracks his knuckles.

  I shouldn’t let him go. But I want to. Dammit.

  I place my hand on his arm to stop him. “You’ll have your chance at football to pound on him. Sit back and eat.”

  “That’s still gonna happen but right now I need to introduce his face to the floor.” His voice reminds me of Dad when he found out why Sophie’s one boyfriend dumped her. Protective anger.

  I bite down on my tongue, hard, to keep the memories back and keep me in the present. I have to stop Henry from getting expelled.

  “Not on school grounds. He’s not worth the suspension,” I remind him.

  “Fine.” He flashes me a huge, creepy grin. “But I’m telling the guys to make sure we end up at the same party he goes to this weekend.”

  “Whatever you’re thinking, I do not want to know.” I giggle.

  He chuckles a bit. “Hey, before I forget, I wanna stop at the house before we head to Leland’s. I wanna grab some of Dad’s books.”

  “Okay.” I shrug.

  We finish our lunch and head back inside. Math is boring as usual, but at least Seth is here today. I hope he’s feeling better; he doesn’t look quite right to me though, like he’s in a bad mood. After class, I try talking to him.

  I turn around in my seat. “Hey, Seth. How ya feelin’?”

  “I’m good.” He doesn’t look up from the worksheet the teacher passed out at the beginning of class. He didn’t even write his name on it.

  “I don’t think those problems will solve themselves. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I said I’m good, Jasmine. Drop it,” he snaps and stands with his bag in his hand. He looks like he’s in pain as he walks away from me, or maybe that’s what I wanted to see.

  But I just watch him go, I don’t press further, or try to stop him.

  “I don’t want to take sides,” Skeeter says. My eyes snap to hers. Take sides? “He just wanted to get to know you.”

  “Skeeter, he still can,” I say to her.

  “You don’t let him,” she shrugs.

  “Come on, Skeeter. It’s hopeless,” Seth calls over as she was about to say something else. She offers me a sad smile before walking over to Seth.

  Stupidly, I stare after the both of them, wondering what just happened and why I want to cry.

  I walk to study hall, alone, and think about what just happened. I’m not ready to open up. But still, it’s actually painful to think about not being able to talk to Seth, or Skeeter, for that matter.

  This is crazy - how is it possible to be attached to someone after a week?!

  In study hall, I ignore the empty seat next to Seth and take a seat on the opposite side of the room in the back. I pull out my iPod, pop in my ear buds, and try to focus on my English assignment. The tune that starts means I must’ve accidentally hit the “shuffle all” button when I pulled it out of my bag. It’s an old song, Copperhead Road by Steve Earle.

  Dad’s favorite song.

  Dad and Henry used to shout the lyrics whenever it would come on.

  I feel a hand on my cheek, accompanied by a tingling sensation. My eyes pop open and I look up into the warmest green eyes I’ve ever seen.

  Seth.

  I wipe the tears from my cheek, turn off my iPod and drop it in my bag.

  “I’m sorry Jaz. I’m just having a bad day,” he whispers.

  “You’re not the only one who has bad days,” I snap, grab my bag and stand.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Trying not to make your day any worse,” I say, with pain and sadness thick in my throat.

  I tell the teacher that my brother and I need to leave early. Happily, she writes me a pass without questions. It wouldn’t surprise me if Leland informed the school that we were visiting my mother and might leave early.

  I grab Henry from his class, and in the empty hallway, I hear those strange footsteps and feel eyes on my back. I stiffen and begin to walk a little faster.

  “You okay Jaz?” he frowns.

  “Yea, I’m f-fine.” I’m so not fine. “Do you hear footsteps?”

  His frown deepens. “No. Why?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I sigh. I guess I’m being paranoid. “It’s nothing.”

  ***

  We get to Lupiterra Hospital and go to the mental health wing, where Mom’s room is.

  Three months ago, I never would’ve believed I’d be coming here once a week for as long as it takes, to visit my mom. Mom admitted herself, with encouragement from Leland. This is our third visit, and I hope we see the changes that Leland says he sees in her.

  The nurse smiles to us before we enter her room. I hope that means we’ll find her somewhat happy to see us.

  Henry opens the door, and we see her sitting in the chair with a steady stream of tears running down her face. I run over, wipe her face, and wrap my arms around her. Henry comes over and hugs her from the other side.

  I still don’t know what to do for her. Everyone grieves differently.

  The remains of my family confirm that statement.

  Mom wouldn’t leave the house, actually, wouldn’t leave the couch. She wasn’t eating, bathing, or anything, which is why she’s now in the hospital.

  I shut myself off from everyone. At one point, I wouldn’t even talk to Henry. People say to lean on your friends and family during hard times. I disagree. Every day it was, “Jazzy, I’m so sorry for your loss. Anything I can do?” or “How are you feeling today?” in that I-feel-sorry-for-you voice. Or “Jazzy, when my friend or family member passed away I . . . ” and try giving me some advice, or share their coping method. I get it. My life is tragic. I have enough reminders every day. I don’t need it pointed out all the time.

  Leland hit the ice harder and works out more often.

  And Henry, well, he’s probably the most normal. He cried, and he visits their graves frequently.

  Every day is a new challenge of coping with the reminders, the memories, and the changes, but I’m trying to
be okay, for my family.

  It breaks my heart even more to see Mom like this every time we come. I feel tears prick in my eyes and I bite my cheek to keep from crying. I have to hold it together and stay strong for Mom.

  After a bit, I feel her shift. She wraps an arm around each of us, which is better than the last time we saw her - she didn’t look at us and only responded to yes or no questions.

  She takes the tissue from me and blows her nose.

  “You guys are so . . . good to me,” she chokes out. She takes a deep breath and looks at us again. “How’s the new school?”

  “Great,” Henry says, at the same time I say, “It’s school.”

  I’d rather not talk about school. In fact, I’d rather just forget today even happened.

  “Come on guys, give me somethin’. Henry, are you makin’ friends okay? Jazzy, Le said you’re takin’ another art class?”

  Henry looks uncomfortable at the mention of art class. But if he knows what’s good for him, he won’t bring up Derik. Mom doesn’t need to worry about some idiot at school.

  She looks at me expectantly, and I stop myself from rolling my eyes.

  “I’m painting the lake at Leland’s.” I smile, and she tries to return it. Another step forward.

  She looks to Henry and waits for him to answer her.

  “We both have a few new friends.” He shrugs. “It’s just different now, Mom. Football and volleyball are big at this school, too, and Lupiterra is Penn Wood’s biggest rival. It’s almost like we’re on enemy territory.” He shrugs again.

  I actually haven’t encountered this problem yet, but I’m not about to correct him.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about what I’d be forcing y’ins to go through,” Mom says, using her Pittsbughese as she looks away from us. Dad used to try to make her say “ya’ll” instead of “y’ins,” but it never stuck. “I really hope you two can forgive me.” She takes a deep breath and looks back to the two of us. “I can’t afford to keep our house anymore. I’ve talked to Le already, and he agrees with me. We’re movin’ in with him and sellin’ our old house.” She eyes the both of us, probably trying to judge our reactions. Henry walks over to the window while I stare at my feet.

  I don’t want her to sell it. That’s our home! I bite my lip to stop from crying or yelling, or both.

  It’s not that I don’t love my uncle or Alex, but my home is where all the memories are. It’s the perfect house. The doorjamb in the dining room still has the color coded notches - showing our height since the three of us were toddlers.

  “Will one of you say something, please?” Mom asks, sounding tired.

  “Would it help if I got a job?” Henry asks. He doesn’t want to give up our home either, but his wanting a job surprises me.

  “Sweetie, if you want a job, the money you make will be yours. But it won’t change the decision to sell the house.” She sighs. “My therapist said I’m allowed to help this weekend for four hours on Saturday, and if I’m up for it, Sunday too. I can help decide what gets sold and what goes to storage,” she says quietly.

  My head snaps in her direction. “You’re selling things?”

  “Well, yeah, Sweetie. We’re going to have an auction. Some of the wives on Le’s team and colleagues from your father’s firm have offered to help out. Whatever money we make, I’ll split between y’ins. I want to make sure you still have the opportunities you had before . . . ” her voice trails as she wipes at her eyes again.

  “We don’t care about the money, Mom,” Henry groans.

  She sits taller in her seat. “I need to make sure you’re going to be all right and this helps me to ensure that. I’m sorry guys. I know this is hard for you, but it’s hard for me, too. There are things I don’t want to part with, like the house. It was my dream home, but without your father, it felt like a prison. Living with your uncle will be great, and it will help him, too.”

  I know I should try to focus on the positives as well, but I can’t get past the fact that she’s just getting rid of everything that reminds her of what we lost.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I know this is hard for you,” Henry says and hugs her.

  “You’re awfully quiet, Princess. Are you okay?”

  I suck in a quick breath. She used Dad’s nickname for me.

  “Love you, Princess,” he used to say those words to me every single day, like he thought I’d forget. I’ll never forget.

  I bite my cheek and take a deep breath.

  “I’m f-fine Mama,” I say to my feet. I’ll lose my control over my emotions if I look at her, so I don’t.

  We stay for another half hour, and Henry does his best to keep the conversation light by telling her about the giant triplets and she seems to approve of them. Thankfully, Henry talks so much we don’t have time to talk about anything going on with me.

  The ride to our house is too quiet, even with the music up. I can’t keep the memories from crushing me. All the Christmases, birthday parties, sibling wars with Sophie, game nights with Uncle Leland and his teammates, and backyard barbeques play in my head like a movie reel. When I was younger, I always imagined bringing my future husband and kids back to this house for a weekend at Grammy & Grampy’s house.

  I blink rapidly to clear the tears from my vision and grip the arm rest, knuckles turning white while I work to rein in my emotions. I focus on the song that’s playing on the radio and sing it in my head.

  Focusing on the words and the beat from the bass, I slowly begin to breathe easier.

  ***

  When we pull up to the house, I sit and stare at the house I’ve always called home.

  I take a deep breath before exiting the car. Henry’s already standing by the door waiting for me and gives me a look that says he sees through my mask. I look away from him and refuse to make eye contact.

  Once we’re inside, Henry heads for Dad’s office while I take in the scent of home. A hint of cinnamon potpourri, pine, and a slight hint of saw dust and cleaning products.

  Home.

  I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, while trying to swallow the clawing emotions that are trying to escape. I walk through the living room to the kitchen, trying to ignore the visions of family movie nights.

  There’s a window above the sink that looks out over the back yard. I walk to it in a daze. Our old swing set is still back there. It’s rusty, but it still works. A smile spreads across my face as I remember when I was little, Dad would push me, and I could swear my feet were touching the sky.

  I quickly look away from the swings. I’m trying to stay detached because I can’t handle these memories or emotions yet. I don’t know where to put them, or how to process them.

  Scanning my eyes across the backyard, I pause at the white gazebo. Last spring, Mom had me help her plant flowers around it. She always picks out the ones that die off, never the ones that come back yearly. I smile, remembering how Sophie called me a “dirt merchant” because I, somehow, was covered in dirt. “You know you’re supposed to keep the dirt in the ground, not bathe in it,” she had teased me.

  Tears prick my eyes but I smile at the memory.

  I turn away from the window and kick the linoleum a few times before walking towards the dining room. I pause at the doorjamb, inspecting the notches. Mom would mark our heights with a pencil and Dad would use his pocket knife to score the wood. I trail my finger along marked wood, pausing on each colored notch, green for Henry, yellow for me, and pink for Sophie.

  I choke back a sob as I linger on a pink notch and my heart begins to crack again. I scrub my hands over my face and breathe through burying the emotions again.

  “Hey, you ready?” Henry asks.

  I square my shoulders and nod with my back still to him. I turn away from him and head out to the car.

  Thankfully, Henry doesn’t say a word on the ride home, and gives me the space I need to clear my head. I watch the trees and houses go by, and concentrate on my breathing until I feel the numb ca
lm again.

  When we pull into Leland’s driveway, we see him and Alex waiting for us on the porch.

  “Hey kids! How’s your mom today?” Leland yells, as we exit the car.

  “She’s okay.” Henry shrugs. “She told us we’re staying here permanently and selling our house. I understand why, but I just don’t like it.”

  Leland’s smile falters. “Oh, I’m sorry you feel that way, Henry.”

  “That didn’t come out right, Leland. I’m sorry.” Henry shakes his head. “I meant that I don’t like that we’re selling our house. Not the living with you part.” He shrugs. “All of our memories are in that house.”

  “You’re wrong, Henry. Your memories are in here.” He taps Henry’s temple. “And in here.” Then he taps Henry’s chest. Before either of us can comment, Leland enters the house with Alex in tow.

  I poke Henry’s side to get him to move. He looks my way and shakes his head, then disappears into the house.

  Heading to my room, I smile. Leland can be so cheesy sometimes. He sounded like a Hallmark card just now. But, I needed to hear it, and I’m sure it’ll help Henry, too.

  Luckily, there isn’t a lot of homework tonight, and I can relax for a while before dinner.

  I plug my iPod into the speakers and turn the volume up. Copperhead Road blasts through the speakers. I can’t believe I forgot what happened in study hall.

  I collapse to the floor, like the memories crashing into me have physical weight. The memories slam through every barrier I’ve formed, pressing into me, choking me.

  Flashing lights suddenly filled the dark car, the ambulances, patrol cars, and fire trucks being the reason. I could see a shiny red sports car with a crunched-up front end. This S-turn is so dangerous, which is why Mom refuses to take this road. Even though they posted the speed limit down to 25, people don’t listen and there are accidents here all the time.

  Henry pulled off to the side of the road and a bumper sticker caught my attention. It’s on the back of a dark colored Mazda and read, “Pittsburgh’s Biggest Fan!” with the symbols for NHL, NFL, and MLB. The “Pitt U” sticker in the back window froze my lungs. The “My Son Tackled Your Son” and “My Daughter Spiked Your Daughter’s Face Off” stickers, broke my heart to a thousand pieces.