I couldn’t stay to hang around there. Shaking, weak, dizzy, and on the verge of tears, I began to run. I pushed past what seemed like hundreds upon hundreds of happy people, walking along the street with other people just like them, laughing. When I bumped into them and kept going, they only glared quickly at me, and then went back to living their lives. Within a matter of seconds, I was forgotten. I had never walked in and out of so many lives so quickly.
I settled down on the front steps of my house, allowing myself time to catch my breath. The air smelled sweet, like summer, the season I wanted to live forever. Above my small body, milky white clouds drifted across the sky. The sunrays nestled in my hair along with the wind, reminding me of Zac. Those days as children when we used to play in the summertime, in the sun, really feeling alive. They flooded my mind, those treasured memories. I thoughtfully began to peel loose paint chips from the railing, breathing deeply, admiring my memories.
I felt a tender hand rest on my shoulder, and I turned slowly around. I made myself smile at the sight of Mom’s face behind me. I wanted her not to remember me as sad, but as a happy, alive, satisfied child, who died because of a bad day. I would, hopefully, give that impression to everyone. I didn’t want people to hear my name and think, “she lived a horrible life, died a horrible death.” Mom obviously didn’t think that. She smiled back.
“Abby, honey, I made lunch for you today. I saw you sitting out here, all alone—are you waiting for somebody? Well, I saw you, and I figured you must be hungry. You missed breakfast, after all. Would you like me to bring it outside for you?” I nodded peacefully, and she turned to go retrieve my meal. She hadn’t made me lunch in years. She used to, when I was younger, sitting on that step, waiting for Zac to come out and play. It seemed kind of odd that she was doing this today. It was almost as if she knew her baby would be gone. When the thought crossed my mind, I buried my head in between my legs to keep from crying.
Mom came out and sat beside me, setting the tray of food down on my lap. She then put her arm around me, letting her head fall onto my shoulder. “Mom,” I murmured suspiciously, taken aback by the love she was showing me today. I wasn’t used to her loving me. Or at least she didn’t show it.
“I know we aren’t as close as we used to be, sweetheart,” she told me. “I miss you being little, being simple. I can’t understand you anymore. Something inside tells me I let you go too quickly, that I made you the stranger that you are to me. Now, I know you feel that way, so don’t say you don’t. When Mrs. Hanson was here, with Zac-I watched the way you looked at her with her children.” I pulled away from her.
“Mom, I’m not a stranger. I’m your daughter. And I’m not your fault…the way that I am…” She shook her head. “No, no, of coarse it’s not all my fault. I mean, you’ve changed. But I don’t know who you are. You are a stranger, Abby.”
My eyes flooded with tears of frustration. My own mother, thinking she was helping me, calling me a stranger? I picked at my sandwich. “Don’t get me wrong, baby, I love you, but…” I shook my head. “No, Mom. No. My God, stop killing me like this. Stop. I mean it. Shut up.” She froze, terror in her eyes.
“You’re so stupid, Mom! You can’t love a stranger. Somebody you don’t know, somebody that maybe you don’t want to know.” She shook her head. “Oh, Abby, honey, don’t be silly. I do love you. Now calm down. You shouldn’t be so sensitive.” I wanted to slap her so much. I held myself back by digging my fingernails into my arms, praying.
“Mom, from on now, I want you to stay away from me. I mean that. You’ve never been there for me. I could’ve had a mother, but you pushed me away. I’m your fault! All your fault. It isn’t me at all; it’s you and everybody else. You can’t help me now. You tell me I’m a stranger, that you, my own damn mother, doesn’t know me. And, on top of that pile of bull, that you love me. You don’t know how torn apart I am inside. I’m supposed to love you for giving me my ‘wonderful’ life. But I hate you.” Her mouth hung open. She was speechless. Completely speechless.
“Goodbye,” I said softly, putting my hand on hers quickly. Her glassy eyes met mine, waiting for sympathy, and apology. Mascara streaks ran down her face, each like tiny black rivers of fear. Without saying another word, I set the tray of food down beside me and walked into the house, being as quiet as possible.
Chapter 18-Promise
