Pennsylvania, 1977 (Thirty Years Ago)375Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIg4Jbx9kuC
Note: Audrey Clay's Viewpoints
They lay dead.
Blood everywhere, pooling the ground beneath me. I was sitting on the ground, just crying. Things happened so fast. There was blood in my face and clothes, but I did not care. I was so tired to move. I cannot move any muscle. I have no strength to move. I am defenseless.
My friends and I were defenseless. Including, especially, my mother.
Why did we even play this game? I do not know. I have no idea that playing this game was dangerous. Is that how really dangerous it is to play it? Or perhaps just to us?
Before I could think further, I already saw nothing. Everything turned black as though I was trapped in a pitch-black room.
Maybe I really am trapped. Trapped to the nothingness of my heart and mind.
All I saw was nothingness. But there was one thing I am pretty sure at that time. All of this was my fault. I provoked them to play this game. I was the one who persisted and cause the danger.
Me.
I.
Myself.
Nothing or no one else.
All of this was my fault. And I know for sure that I will take this forever. Forever it is stuck in my mind and heart. It felt like the weight of the world was on both shoulders, and I got no one to pass it on.
No one. Just me.
* * *
A blinding light greeted my eyes as soon as I opened them. And because of the blinding, hurting light, I made my lids come down again, closing my eyes.
That was when I realized that I was in a hospital room. I looked around and saw my cousin. He is the only one I have now, including his parents. And I cannot go back to my house.
I can never. All the memories stuck and made in that house were just going to keep haunting me. That is for sure.
He caught me staring and smiled sympathetically at me. "You are awake," he spoke. Then, he approached me and pulled the chair beside the bed I was lying on.
All along, I cannot find my voice. I forced myself to speak lately. I need to know what really happened to my friends and mother. If they were still really and maybe alive. There could be a possibility, right? They can still be alive since I was not there when they were stabbed, so I definitely do not know what really happened and how it really happened.
Right? Right? Please, please, please. I hope they are still alive.
"Where are they?" I croaked out, struggling at every word after thousands of thoughts tirelessly running on my mind. Please, please. Tell me they are still alive, I begged, thinking.
He sighed, then regarded me, sympathetically. "I am sorry." He commenced crying. "They are already dead. They were stabbed, right? And unfortunately, they did not survive it." He sobbed and shook his head. "I can't believe that Aunt is already dead. She is already dead. Whoever killed her was going to pay, I am pretty sure."
His words hit me. I am the one who did it all. Not the one who specifically killed them, but since they got killed because of me, it was almost the same thing. And I will never, ever forgive myself for it.
"What is it?" asked Dre. "You seemed quiet, all of a sudden." He frowned in confusion, looking at me from the chair where he was perching comfortably.
I shook my head. "Nope. Just..." I paused, looking away. "Something." Perhaps I should tell them, right? I knew I should. I should tell them, so they will know how everything happened and they will help me to catch that monster who killed and stabbed them.
Right! But I do not really sound happy. Internally, very, very deep inside me, I am really sad, left, lost — lost in my thoughts, and missing many things — no, a person. People. I am missing mattering people.
I sighed and looked at him again. "Dre?" I summoned. Maybe I should ask him, piece by piece, so he would not be surprised and not believe me, telling me I am losing my marbles. Probably give him some clues or something like that. Like, use any subjects that were as unbelievable as my story.
But what? What subject could I use? Think, think, you big dopey. You can make him believe, Audrey. Just think, I kept telling myself. Maybe I really could make him believe. Well, think, you big dimwit!
Myself could sometimes be so rude to its own, private, personal self. Now, who is a big dummy? Me and this voice in my head, telling her own self that she is a complete dunce, huh?
Hardy har har. And unfortunately, it was me.
"Do you think Kermit could be alive and he was not a puppet?" I asked. Hardy har har once again. I know what you are thinking. But what more could I ask? There was nothing more. Besides, that question was not really bad, so...I hope he buys it.
He looked shocked and raised a brow at me, perturbed. "What kind of interrogation is that?" he questioned me. "You are currently in the bed of a hospital, recovering from something that I do not yet know, and now you will ask me that ridiculous question?" He laughed suddenly.
I shook my head, not laughing with him. "I am being serious, bro," I told him, even though I was dying inside from keeping myself from bursting into laughter about the question. Well, who will not, anyway?
Kermit is from the Muppets. And in this spotlight, I am asking about him. If he were real or not. Jiminey Cricket. I am so weird. Unmistakably weird. I am an off-the-wall person. But, nothing else is left.
He stopped himself suddenly and looked at me. He shook his head. "Of course not," he answered. "Kermit is plainly a puppet."
At that time, I knew I had to do something to keep him on that question. Or maybe find something else that is — unbelievable? I need to think. But what? What could I ask him? From all the cartoons that I had watched, almost everything is unmanageable. Especially when someone was getting hit by a car? How are they still alive after that? They have been completely crushed. Now they were lung on the street pretty thin. Then they will get up like nothing actually had happened.
Suddenly, something truly came into my mind. The only thing that will make him stony-faced. The only thing about my family. About Mom and Dad. Their "parting of the ways."
Just came to think of it, I turned sad abruptly. "What about Mom and Dad?" I questioned earnestly and sorrowfully. "Do you think they could have been okay before this difficulty happen?"
Kid. I was asking just like a kid. Asking if my mommy and daddy will still be together and live happily ever after like fairytales and we will be a happy family. Nope. Dang, nope. Dang all the fairytales. All of them were not real. In the end, they always end up with smiles on their faces.
Hello? Live in reality, please.
He sighed. "Audrey," he said, "you know it was difficult back then. They could not stand each other anymore. They thought it was for the best." They could not stand each other? I repeated in my mind. But how? I added, frowning in my own thoughts and at his statement.
"What about the 'till death do they part,' huh?" I asked, acting immature. I am already twenty-four and Dre is thirty-five, but I did not care. He needed to get my point. I wanted him to get my point of asking. I even thought this was not about the "unbelievable" anymore. This was about my parents' divorce.
He took a deep breath and shook his head. "Difficult times, Audrey. Difficult times," he told me, regarding me thoughtfully. "They divorced because they felt that everything changed between them. They felt that the love they used to feel has changed. Now, rest. You need it. I will call Mom to know if she has already gotten the food for breakfast."
Breakfast? Huh. I did not know it was morning. Or even dawn.
Mom and Dad separated when I was three, so the memories were not totally clear for me. I could not even remember a thing. My mom only used to show me pictures and stories about them. I also used to ask her all about it. But I know that if she already stopped talking about my father, the conversation was already done. She did not want to talk about it anymore.
My father, you may ask? My dad's condition is very clear to me now. He was with someone else named Connie. She was really nice to me every time we meet, but I do hate her. What if she cast a spell on Dad to love her and leave my mom completely forgotten? Or maybe she made my mother eat something that will make my father's vision see her as an ugly person?
Fairytales, huh?
As I said, to "live in reality," maybe she convinced my dad to be with her and leave my mom? Or maybe she said many bad things about my mother so that my father will come with her? Some stuff like those they do in some movies or series?
Oh, I do not know. But she is a witch for me, that is final. Period, nothing else.
I may sound like an eleven-year-old, but I am just trying to be honest over here.
She really is hateable. If you do not believe me, well, let me clear this to you. If your parents broke up, and one of them chose to be with someone else, and he introduces her to you, are you going to be mad or not?
Of course, you will want your parents to be with each other. Right? Do you agree with me or not? She is completely, plainly, simply hateable, like what I had said earlier.
And Mom, ever since they two broke up, I was on her side. I was living on her mom's — my grandma's — house. But my grandma already died because of a heart attack. Everyone cried at that time.
My mother was so forlorn when they broke up. And I was there, trying my best to keep her up. I even ask my friends to come over just to cheer her up at that time. But, unfortunately, all of my plans did not work. None of them worked.
Ever since they broke up, I hated my dad for it. I do not want them to be apart. I only want them to be together and we will live happily. But sadly, Iike what I kept repeating, fairytales are not, not, I am telling you, not, real.
They are just some complete gibberish.
I used to love them as a kid, but as many challenges come to life — like my situation right now — my eyes are being opened to reality. That there is no such thing as "happily ever after," things like those.
In short to what I all have said, fairytales are hooey.
But, for the last four months, I have not heard from my dad. Not like I really wanted to. All I will get to hear is how their new baby is going to be born and how he and what's-her-name are really happy with each other.
Erm, hello? I love my mom and I hate your new girlfriend. So if you are telling me about how you are now having a baby, who happened to be my half-brother, and how happy you are with stupid Connie, wouldn't that be offensive and annoying and blood-boiling for me? I have been wanting to say to him back then to every day that we met. But wistfully, I do not know how to.
But because of those four months without any seeing of him, my father, I had a dream about him. It was really weird. But I do not know if it could literally happen.
He had ruffled my hair in that dream and I felt like all the problems went away, that he and my mom were still together. He had smiled at me, sadly as tears washed out of his eyes. "I'm leaving soon, Audrey. Good-bye. I will miss you, my little toddler. Take care of yourself and your mom," he had told me. And I did not know, I was crying in that dream also.
"I will," I had said. I do not know why. I smiled and hugged him, tightly as I could. Then, he disappeared. He vanished like bubbles. Literally like bubbled with smokes.
But that smile, I miss it from my father. The one who used to buy me ice cream when I was a kid. The one who used to carry me when I was a kid.
A kid. But what about now? I am grown-up now, and he was not here to support me. As a matter of fact, tomorrow will be my birthday. I am turning twenty-five tomorrow.
Which brought the subject to me and him again. I know that he knows now what happened to me. But where is he? In case he has forgotten, he still has a daughter that was almost killed by an unbelievable monster. His ex-wife was dead now. And my friends that he treats as a family also were now dead. What is he busy with? Changing nappies of his newborn baby? Or giving my half-brother endless hugs that I probably only have thirty-five while he gets two million?
Snapping me out of my thoughts, Dre opened the door and closed it behind him, tugging his phone on his back pocket. "Hey!" he called. "Didn't know you are still awake. What's keeping you up, cuz?"
I shook my head. "Nothing," I answered. "But, Dre?" I beckoned. "If Dad comes, please just tell him — "
"He's dead."
What? He's what? My father's gone? What the heck? My mother died, and now, he is dead? How? Why did he die? Is it what's-her-name? I am going to kill her once I know it was her!
I sat up with full force and energy. I did not care even though it sent me agony. "Wh-What?" I stammered. "He's what?" I questioned. "You need to be shitting me! He's not dead! He's still alive! Dre! You're lying! He is not dead, okay?" I began to cry.
I know what you're contemplating. She said she hates him. She said she doesn't want to see him. But, I love my father simultaneously, okay? He is still my father!
He approached me as I yelled and espoused me in a hug. "I know. It's hard to believe it, but it is the truth, Audrey. He has cancer. Pancreatic cancer. He did not last. He only has three and a half months left. He stayed that way, stopping himself from seeing you. He does not want you to see him that way."
Why? Why not? I am still her daughter, anyway, I thought to myself.
"I am still her daughter," I made a good point, responding to the hug, and sobbing on Dre's shirt. "I do not want him to leave. Please, bring him here! I don't want him to leave," I lamented. "Tell him, I love him, please!" I begged, but it was no use.
On the one hand, I do not want to believe it. On the other hand, I was believing him. I do not know which is which anymore. I just want him to be here. Does he want me to be nice to Connie? Fine, I will. But just come back here. I will take care of Joshy. I promise. If that's what he wanted.
Fine, I give up. He had already died. But, okay. I will take care of what's-her-name and Joshy. I promise. But just for you, Dad. Just for you. Because I love my father. I love him, three thousand, okay? Even one million.
Endless.
Much endless than the hugs you gave Joshy.
* * *
I lied there in bed sometime later, staring in the ceiling. I was waiting for something. More like someone.
Connie.
I am sure she will be here by any minute. That is for sure. I know my dad will not leave without something. And that something, I know, was a message. I do not know, but before he left the house, he gave me a message, hugging me tightly.
But, I will not open that message for now. Maybe when I get out of here. That is when I will open this message I was waiting for. I know it will come.
My dad loves me. That is the real thing I was specifically sure.
The following minutes of waiting were being dragged, the door opened. I pulled my eyes toward it and saw Connie with her sister, Jessica, holding baby Joshy. Dre stood up and took Joshy, holding him like he was the most important person in the world.
The most fragile thing in the world.
He smiled at Joshy as he rocked him back and forth. Maybe this would not turn bad after all. I mean, Connie was so nice to me, but I was the one throwing her kindness back to her face.
She smiled at me. A real, genuine smile. She approached me, and I smiled. "Hello, Audrey," she greeted me, sitting at the chair where Dre was earlier. "How are you?"
"Just resting. Making myself recover," I said, shrugging at her question. "How is baby Joshy so far?" I asked kindly. Maybe she had noticed it because I saw her eyebrows united. But they parted back soon and she smiled again.
She shrugged. "Changing his diaper was a bit — hard, I guess," she chuckled, and I chuckled along with her. It was not really a forced cackle. Besides, changing nappies was really hard since I saw Joshy was a bit chubbier than what I saw him the last time. "He is hungry all the time. He wants milk all the time. Always crying when he is hungry." She ran her fingers through my hair, just like a normal Mom would. "I am sorry about your father, by the way. He was a great man. He was so kind to people. Look, I know — "
"It is okay," I interrupted, and I saw Dre smile at me. "I know the reason why they parted their own ways. And I completely understand. I want to apologize for the things that I have done, especially always rolling my eyes at you when you are talking to me back then."
She chortled and smiled. "It's fine, sweetheart. I understand how it feels."
I was curious about her last sentence, but I did not ask further. I was too tired now. Too tired to move. Even speak. I feel like I absolutely need a great and comfortable rest.
"Here's what your father left, by the way," Connie said. "He wrote you a message when he is in the middle of his..." She did not finish the sentence and handed me a parchment paper. In the middle of his cancer, my mind finished.
I grabbed it and tears blurred my vision. Before I expect it coming, Connie adopted me in a hug and I knew she was crying. She was sobbing in my shoulder, muttering words like, "He was so kind...I don't want him to die...I love him."
And I was not expecting this from myself at her. I patted her back, telling her it will be okay. That we can survive it. We could live, I know, missing something, but I know he was just always there.
My father is just there. Always.
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