When I was little I held firm belief in three things. Everything was subject to change, except these three things:
One: Cheerios were the greatest snack ever invented
Two: Nothing would ever be fluffier than my cat, Sun
And three: Mom, dad, and my sister Ellen would last forever
On May 13th, 2007, Ellen passed away.
On August 17th, 2007, mom left us.
On January 3rd, 2008, dad didn't come home that night.
On January 6th, 2008, dad was officially declared "missing."
On January 17th, 2008, after living with a friend for two weeks, I moved in with my grandparents
May 13th, 2007, 7:34 AM
Ellen and I were walking to school. It was a cool morning, but by noon it was expected to be in the upper 80's. My backpack thumped against my ribcage because I only had one arm through the strap. Thump, thump, thump. Like a heartbeat.
"You could hurt your shoulder like that," Ellen commented, her arms through both straps.
"School books are dangerous, we should just stop going," I replied, pulling my bag onto both shoulders.
She was right, like usual. My arm was kind of aching already.
Ellen giggled at my comment and put one arm through mine. She started skipping along, pulling me with her. Cool weather made her frisky and more than a little goofy. It was amusing though, so I joined in, and we arrived at school, skipping arm in arm, singing "We're Off to See the Wizard!" Several classmates joined in, while others, mostly Ellen's, just sort of glared or turned away. I always wondered why Ellen seemed to enjoy school so much, considering she didn't get along with most students in her grade.
We split apart to visit our lockers and shove as many books as we could inside. I swore one day I would break my back hauling all those books around. Ellen was in the grade above me, so her locker was farther down the hallway. I wished I could have been born a year earlier, or her a year later. If we were twins then it would be much more fun of her at school. I was sure of that.
"Lauren, Lauren!" Sidney exclaimed, clapping her hands in front of my face.
I had gone into one of my zoned out moments.
"I'm here! I'm here!" I replied, "What's up?"
"Did you understand the math homework?"
"Not a bit, you?"
She shook her head and sighed. She was about to ask me something else, but then the bell rang and sent us scurrying to our respective classrooms.
May 13th, 2007, 12:32 PM
I had a history test third period, and I was so busy stressing about it that I had forgotten to grab money for lunch. Ellen ended up paying for me, and we sat together with Sydney like we usually did.
"You go home without me," Ellen said suddenly, right before she bit into her sandwich, "I have a meeting after school, I just remembered."
"Meeting for what?" Sidney asked, throwing her apple core a yard into a trash can because she didn't feel like getting up.
"Film class. We have a project coming up and our teacher is going to help us get started."
"She couldn't help in class?"
"We were finishing a movie."
"Now there's a nice class," I said with a dreamy sigh, "Sitting around, watching movies, all day."
"Hardly," Ellen snorted, "Just don't wait for me, or you'll be stuck here about an hour later than you'll want to be."
I nodded. No way was I going to wait an hour for her, that was for sure. I had my own project to get working on. It was due tomorrow, and I hadn't even started. Mom would just love that. I'm being sarcastic, but I really was stressing over the project. I crumpled up my chip bag and tossed it into the trash can.
"KOBE!" a boy who was passing by shouted.
I still hadn't figured out what exactly that meant, but I gave the guy a thumbs up. Since no one seemed to laugh after he said it, I figured I wasn't being made fun of. My table mates and I ditched the rest of our trash and dispersed to our classes again.
May 13th, 2007, 3:12 PM
Sidney and I were walking home. She was going to help me start on my project and would probably end up hanging around until I finished it. She was the main traffic through my house, besides mom and dad's book club that met once a week in our backyard.
When Sid and I arrived at the house my parents were still at work, so we took over the back patio. We sprawled out in the white plastic lawn chairs, the long kind people use for tanning at the pool and beach, and started brainstorming ideas.
May 13th, 2007, 3:50 PM
The details of my project aren't important, just know that we spent a good half hour to forty-five minutes out there before Sid realized she left her phone in her locker.
"Oh damn, damn, damn!" she exclaimed, jumping out of her chair and dashing to the front door.
I followed closely behind, offering to run back with her, but she refused.
"Just start working!" she replied, "I'll be back soon! You're gonna fail if you don't spend time on it!"
And then the door banged shut and she was off. She was on the cross country team, so she always had to run places. "Screw walking" was pretty much her catchphrase. I watched her disappear around the corner then brought in my things from outside and spread out on the couch. I started writing out notes to put on my poster board.
May 13th, 2007, 4:10 PM
My phone rang, so I answered it. It was Sidney's number, but it didn't sound like Sidney on the other end because her voice was clogged by her tears and runny nose. She was having a breakdown.
"Slow down, slow down, what is it?!" I screamed into the phone, getting a bit freaked out myself now.
"E-Ellen!" she sobbed out, "She was just crossing the street, and he just didn't stop, and, and..."
But I had dropped the phone and was out running down the street myself now.
What happened was that Sidney had been sprinting. And she was panting and waiting for a light to turn green, a block away from the school. She saw Ellen leaving through the front, and waiting for the light to turn as well. She waved, Sidney waved back, made a motion as to say "Forgot my phone." Ellen disappeared inside for a moment and came back out to the corner, waving Sidney's blue phone in the air. Sidney leaned against the street light pole, waiting for Ellen.
The light turned green. Ellen stepped off the sidewalk, she was walking normally, making her way. The pedestrian signal had the little stick guy walking on the screen. And then around the corner came a blue pickup truck and the driver, some middle-aged guy, didn't see the red light, or was on the phone, or was drunk, or something. Something caused him not to stop for the seventeen year old girl crossing the street. And he just rammed into her.
And Sidney saw her fall and the truck passed over her and swerved to the side of the road and the driver got out, but Ellen was dead on impact. She was just lying there, Sidney says, just lying there, her backpack torn open and her books and pencils spilling out in the street. And she had dropped Sidney's phone and skidded a few feet away closer to Sidney. And then Sidney and the guy ran to her, and the guy took out his phone and called 911. Got the police and the ambulance on the line. But Sidney said it was stupid to call an ambulance because Ellen was dead. It was obvious. She just...she just lay there. Not twitching or moaning or anything. Just there, stiller than when she slept. Ellen always used to spazz out in her sleep.
And by the time I got there the ambulance and the police had made it, and traffic was stopped, and kids from school were gathered around a barrier the police set up. I ran faster and hurdled a barrier, ignoring a cop's shout, and ran to Sidney who was standing looking down at Ellen. And I looked down at her too. There was blood, and her homework worksheets were slowly being dyed red as it pooled underneath her. I turned around and vomited, right onto a paramedic's shoes, but I didn't even say sorry, I just turned back to my sister and then turned and vomited again.
Then I was numb. When someone told me to do something, I did it, and eventually my parents showed up and my dad sat next to me on the curb and neither of us said anything. Mom was bawling and leaning back against a police car while an officer tried to calm her down. Sidney ended up on my other side at some point, and the three of us just sat there in shock while mom kept crying and the paramedics took the body away. Mom went with them. She didn't say anything to me, or Sid, or dad, she just got in the ambulance and went off. Then an officer somehow got us into his car and drove us to the hospital.
May 13th, 2007, 6:18 PM
I sat in a cold, metal, hospital chair, scratching the outer blue coating of paint or whatever it was off of one of the legs. Sidney sat on the ground beside me, her knees pulled up to her chest and her forehead resting on her kneecaps. Her phone had died a while ago, and her parents had showed up about ten minutes earlier, but she didn't want to leave me yet. She was traumatized herself. After all, she saw it. Saw Ellen go down. Saw the blood start to flow. Saw my sister breathe her last breath.
"Sid," I croaked.
It was the first I had spoken since I saw Ellen's body. I fought past the lump in my throat.
"You can go home, if you need to."
"I don't need to," she murmured.
"You're hungry right?"
"Aren't you?"
"I can't eat right now,"
"Neither can I."
"Okay then."
We sat there in silence for a while longer, until a nurse came in and offered to bring us up something to eat from the cafeteria. She felt very sorry for us, I could tell. But I wasn't angry. In movies and stuff, whenever someone dies, a family member almost always say something like, "I don't need your pity!" But I didn't feel that way. I wanted some pity. It meant someone cared, and I mean, my parents cared, well, dad did at least, but I hadn't seen them for forty minutes. They were slowly falling to pieces together, and Sidney and I were falling to pieces together. I just wished it could have been a group effort, not two teams who both could've used more support than they were getting.
We told the nurse we weren't hungry, but she brought us water bottles and two apples anyway. She said that when you were in shock it was easy not to feel hungry or thirsty, but your body still needed sustenance. We drank the water without really feeling it going down, and ate the apples, not really tasting them. I almost choked on mine when another fit of sobs came on, but when I was finished Sidney pointed out that I had juice running all down my face, and I looked really stupid.
"Your face is stupid," I replied automatically.
Then we burst out laughing. Just two teenage girls, sitting in the corner of a hospital waiting room, cracking up.
I was insane with grief at that point.
May 15th, 2007, 1:00 PM
It was Friday, and I didn't go to school the day before or that day. I just lay around the house. Sometimes out back, sometimes on the couch, sometimes on my bed. I was in some kind of in between state. In between the reality and my dying hope that it was all some bad trip because someone had drugged my food. But when time just keeps passing and the dead stay dead, eventually that little spark of unreasonable hope just flickers out, and you feel empty. But you also feel full and aware. Aware of everything going on around you. Aware of the old lady walking her dog past your house. Aware of the acorn that falls on the hood of the car and makes you jump in surprise.
Sidney hadn't been in school either. I knew this because we had been texting back and forth the past two days. Just random crap. Random news reports we saw on TV. Nothing about death of course; the point of our conversations was to keep our minds off that topic. I wasn't quite ready to face it completely. Neither were my parents. We kept the door to Ellen's room closed and acted as if it wasn't there when we walked by in the hall.
May 22nd, 2007, 3:00 PM.
The bell rang, and I shuffled out of class with Sidney, ignoring looks people gave us or waves we recieved. Everyone was trying to be nice, but we were still avoiding discussion about Ellen, and we knew other students would ask questions. We sat alone at lunch now. Occasionally we used to join other people, with Ellen there too of course, but now we isolated ourselves to a table in the corner.
The school counselor had asked to speak to us after school, so we made our way to her office. We sat on the couch, and she sat in an arm chair across from it, and she smiled at us. We just stared blankly back.
"How have you two been holding up?" she asked kindly, "Have you managed to catch up on school work and studying? Exams are next week after all."
I shrugged. I guess I was caught up. I didn't really know because no teachers had been asking to see my work. It was the same situation with Sidney, since it was common knowledge she saw the accident, and she was practically another sibling to me and Ellen.
The counselor nodded at us.
"Is there anything you'd like to talk about she asked? Any memories you might want to share? Talking about these kinds of situations tends to help."
Suddenly I was angry at her. The way she said "these kinds of situations" as if it were something common and normal to deal with. As if it was just something she studied the exact things to say for when she was in college. I stood up and slung my bag over my shoulder, then slid my other arm through the strap, remembering what Ellen had said that morning before she died. Sidney followed my lead, and we both left the room, the counselor trying to convince us to stay. But you didn't have to talk to the counselor if you didn't want to, so she couldn't keep us there. I doubt I would've stayed even if she could threaten detention to keep us there.
We walked to my place, then parted ways. Sidney hadn't come over since Ellen's death. She felt as if she were intruding, but she was just as much a part of this as I was. I had to admit though, mom probably would've gone off on her if she had come in. She would've said things like "you aren't in this family!" or "I can't see someone who watched my daughter die right now!"
I kind of think, even now, that mom blamed Sidney. But it wasn't her fault. Like I told you, she was just watching and suddenly the truck came and suddenly Ellen was gone. Suddenly. As in no time to react.
Mom had been crazy the past week. I understood that for a parent, the death of your child was the worst thing imaginable, but she still had one child. And that child was feeling neglected by her and though she didn't know it at the time, was staring to hate her.
Maybe I'm being unfair. I know it was terrible for her, but Ellen was not just her daughter, she was my sister, and I needed some help too. But not help from a counselor, help from my parents.
Dad thankfully was still being a dad. He made me dinner and breakfast, even made me lunch, which was something he hadn't done since I was ten, and he had decided I could make my own lunch. He said goodnight to me, and he asked me how school went, and he came home from work earlier. Mom had stopped going to work completely, and while dad wished he could, and he knew his boss would find that perfectly acceptable, he didn't want to deal with having no income. His boss had promised to pay him for the days he was gone, but he refused. He said that was unfair and anyway he needed distraction. But he still came home early, around four o'clock, to keep me company and make sure I ate.
He spent as much time with me as he could because he was reasonable enough to see that I was having serious issues with Ellen's death. Siblings took it just as bad as parents some people say, and those people are one hundred percent correct.
June 20th, 2007, 10:00 AM
It was summer vacation, and almost everyday I awoke to find my parents either arguing or both in pissy moods. The funeral had cost a lot, and mom was still refusing to work. On that particular day I awoke to hear dad screaming at her in the living room.
"You can't just back out of life!" he was saying, "What about Lauren?! You don't want her to go to college or something?! You want to take away her future too?!"
The bad thing was, mom didn't even start crying after that. You would think she would start crying and then dad would hug her and say sorry and that in the end it would be okay. But no, mom just screamed back about how one of her children was dead, what did he expect?
I was angry at her too now. It was like she was saying Ellen hadn't been dad's child or my sibling too. It felt like she meant that only she had a right to be upset and the rest of us had to take care of everything for her.
I burrowed under my covers, grabbed my phone off the nightstand, and texted Sidney. She said I could come over whenever. Lately I had been taking refuge at her place. She used to take refuge at mine. Most of the time she was at my place because her parents had a rocky relationship. They had been separated for a time and had talked about divorce. But since I had been over so often, and Sidney was so traumatized about Ellen they had been putting their petty problems aside and taking care of us. Sidney's mom was pretty much my mother at this point, since my real one was, as my dad had put, backing out of life.
July 19th, 2007, 11:11 PM
"Make a wish," Sidney said half heatedly when she noticed the time.
"I wish life didn't suck," I replied with a sigh.
Sid put her arm around me as we sat side-by-side on a bench out on her balcony.
July 31st, 2007, 12:13 PM
Sidney and I were out to lunch with her parents. We were at this Chinese place we liked a lot. We both always got the same thing. Egg rolls, fried won-tons, and noodles. Her parents were talking about a trip we all should take to Disney World. It had been ages since Sidney's family had gone on vacation together since her parents could rarely stop shouting at each other to pick a time. But they sounded genuinely interested in doing something as a family, which included me now.
I bit into an egg roll and nodded.
"I'd like to go," I said.
Then I felt bad because Ellen wouldn't be there, and I almost started crying again when Sidney's mom told me something you hear all the time in novels, movies, and TV shows. It seems cheesy when you see it in those places, but it actually helps a lot in real life.
"Your sister wouldn't want you feeling bad," Sidney's mother said, "It's the job of the living to live."
From then on I found myself calling her "Mom 2.0."
August 5th, 2007, 7:00 AM
Sidney and I were browsing magazines on a plane to Florida. Her parents must have actually been working on the trip for weeks before they brought it up considering how they seemed to pull plane tickets and hotel reservations out of thin air.
August 5th, 2007, 9:20 PM
Sidney had the hotel TV tuned to MTV, and we were watching those crap reality shows they air now instead of actual music. Her parents were down at a late dinner. They had let us order room service since we were tired and didn't feel like going to a restaurant. Our room connected to her parents'.
"Do these people realize they are being made fun of?" I asked, turning to Sid.
"Doubt it. They're too stupid to get it," she replied, popping a french fry into her mouth.
I nodded and pulled the pickles off of my burger and dumped them on her plate. I hated the things so she always ate them. Ellen had hated them too. I changed to the Pay Per View movie selection, trying to find a better distraction from my memories than a bunch of hooker MTV stars.
"They have Lord of the Rings," Sidney said, "Put the first one on."
"Nerd," I said, but I liked the movies too so I ordered the movie.
We ended up watching all three movies, one a night for the first three days we were there. Then we just watched TV movies so we wouldn't run up the bill too much.
August 17th, 2007, 2:00 AM
I heard someone moving around in the hallway. I opened my door a crack and peered through. Mom was rushing around in a frenzy, grabbing towels from the closet, then rushing into her and dad's room and coming out with a hairdryer, then scurrying into the living room and grabbing her necklace off the coffee table. I watched her go back and forth back and forth, until she entered the living room and didn't come back out. Then I crept down the hallway and stood in the doorway to the hall and watched as she shoved her belongings, and somethings that were both her and dad's, into a suitcase and a duffel bag. She put her laptop in a bag and fit that into the suitcase as well.
Then she stood and hooked the duffel over the handle of the suitcase and rolled it to the front door. She reached for her car keys and removed something from the ring, then stepped out into the night air and got into the car. I moved to the front window and watched, half hiding behind a curtain, as she drove off into the darkness. I glanced at the little table by the front door to see the key she had removed from the keyring. It was her house key. I locked the front door from inside then padded down the hall to my dad's room and crawled into bed with him.
August 17th, 2007, 9:52 AM
I woke up to hear dad calling my name and thudding down the hall. I sat up and saw him standing in the doorway.
"Where's your mother?" he asked.
"She left."
"To go where?"
"No, dad. She left."
That time he understood.
August 30th, 11:00 AM
I officially dropped the "2.0" on the nickname "Mom 2.0."
September 9th, 2007, 4:38 PM
Sidney and I watched documentaries and solemn videos about 9/11 while eating fried rice.
September 14th, 2007, 8:00 AM
Sid and I sat in our first class of Junior year. We all had to introduce ourselves in case there were new kids and so the teacher would know something about us. She asked general questions like "What's your favorite food?" and "What do you like to do in your spare time?"
Then she asked who had a sibling. I raised my hand without thinking, and she called on me.
"What are they like?" she asked.
"She's dead," I replied, again without thinking.
The teacher turned around and started writing notes on the board for us to copy down. They were those silly notes about class conduct no one really cared about.
December 2nd, 2007, 6:00 PM
Dad got back from his psychiatrist appointment and sat with me on the couch. I was watching one of those old cartoon Christmas specials. The ones they air all December and the only time you get to see those old, good cartoons.
"Do you want to see someone too?" he asked me.
"Not really," I replied.
He nodded. It wasn't for everyone. Telling some random person about my problems didn't help me. I always felt like they were trying to invade my personal life, and I guess they were invading my personal feelings.
That's kind of their job, I know, but I still don't like it.
"Dad, what do we do now?" I asked.
"Make dinner," he replied and stood up.
"No, dad, seriously."
"I am being serious."
He walked into the kitchen and started making pasta.
December 3rd, 2007, 4:40 PM
I told mom what dad said when I was at Sidney's after school.
"I don't get it," I reported.
"He means that you should only worry about what's right in front of you."
I don't know what I'd do without her.
January 3rd, 2008, 11:31 PM
I dialed 911.
"Police please," I said to the lady who answered, "Yes? Hello? I'm freaking out sir, my dad's never been late coming home a day in his life and now it's half past eleven, and he should be here."
January 4th, 2008, 12:00 AM
The police met me at Sidney's house and took my report.
January 6th, 2008, 3:20 PM
The police department called. A case on my father's disappearance had been established and officers were working on locating him as soon as possible. They asked me to make arrangements to live with other relatives, rather than Sidney, so that there would be no problems with my new guardians getting involved.
So I called grandma and grandpa. They were my mother's parents. They hadn't supported my mother's action of leaving us and were always offering a helping hand. Dad turned them down over and over again. He wanted to make things work himself, but now he was gone, and I had to take them up on their offer. They said in two weeks they would be there to pick me up.
Sidney and her parents helped me pack up my stuff from home and make sure the house was properly locked up. They said while I was gone they would check on it everyday to make sure it hadn't been broken into or vandalized. I trusted them on this one. I trusted them.
January 18th, 2008, 9:00 PM
I lay in my new bed, in my new bedroom, in my new home. Grandma and grandpa were watching TV downstairs. I had decided to turn in early, but I couldn't get to sleep for the longest time. It's hard to get to sleep in a new environment.
I had to get used to having white walls in my room now, rather than pale green ones. And I had to get used to the noise the fan made when it spun around; it was completely different from the fan in my old room. I had to get used to the orange curtains and orange rug on the cream carpeting. Had to get used to the windows being on the right of my bed instead of the left, and I definitely had to get used to the smell. Citrus air freshener. My old room smelled like a combination of laundry detergent and...I don't know what else. The scent of familiarity I suppose.
I texted Sidney about how hard it would be, and she responded,
"Hey, at least you can say you live in a creamsicle."
From then on I referred to my room as The Creamsicle in conversations.
January 20th, 2008, 8:00 AM
First day at my new school. It was okay. The teacher made me stand up and introduce myself, and the kids just nodded at me without making eye contact. I ended up sitting alone at lunch.
January 20th, 2008, 3:30 PM
I told grandma my first day was lousy, and she disappeared for a moment then returned with a box. Grandpa was following behind her carrying an easel with a sheet of paper pinned to it. Grandma sat beside me on the couch and opened the box. It was full of paint, for watercolor specifically, and several fancy paintbrushes ranging from an almost pencil thin tip to a tip so broad it looked like one for painting walls.
"You need a hobby, baby," she said to me, and proceeded to teach me the art of mixing paint and water and applying it to paper.
I sucked at first, but it was fun so I kept painting my terrible rendition of a downtown office building. When I was done I said,
"This is so sad. It looks terrible."
"And that my dear makes it true," grandpa said.
It took me a minute to get he had been making a comment about the terrible career choice of working in a cubical from 8:00 AM to 5:00 PM everyday.
February 10th, 2008, 4:20 PM
I walked downstairs when the doorbell rang to see who it was. My mother stood in the living room. When she spotted me she held out her arms for a hug. I realized I hated her then because I couldn't bring myself to call her mom. I ended up saying,
"Nice to see you, Gina. Sorry, but I have a project due tomorrow."
I headed back up to my room and used the lock on the door for the first time. I put a new sheet of paper on the easel grandpa had moved into my room and started applying red streaks of paint randomly. In the end it was just a jumble of red, red, and more red, and then I put a dot of blue in the center, and then in the center of that a dot of white.
February 10th, 2008, 5:30 PM
Grandpa knocked on the door.
"She's gone, honey," he said, "And gran'ma put in a takeout order at that restaurant you like downtown. Want to come pick it up with me?"
"Yes, yes I do," I replied, putting my paintbrush down and taking a deep breath.
The fourth page of sporadic red streaks was complete.
February 21st, 2008, 4:00 PM
Grandma stood in the doorway, watching me crumple up my pathetic attempt at painting a person.
"Your grandfather found a nice woman for you to talk to," she said, "Please consider it, baby."
I dropped the stained, crumped up paper into the trash can and looked up at her. I probably did need some form of therapy besides killing several trees a day.
"Okay, I'll try it," I responded, heading down the hall to the bathroom.
I needed to wash the paint off of my hand before I ruined the furniture and/or doors.
March 3rd, 2008, 5:00 PM
I entered the office and my mouth fell open. I had imagined a psychologist's office to be more...office like. Sure there was a desk, but there were also several arm chairs and couches, not the weird couches they put in a therapy session in movies, just normal leather couches. The room was huge also, with large windows at the back behind the desk and about five bookshelves placed randomly against the walls. There was also a fireplace. Apparently this building used to be an actual house.
My new psychologist was seated at the desk, and when I walked in she looked up and wheeled out into the open with a smile.
"Hi," she said, "I'm Katherine."
"Lauren."
"Go ahead and sit down,"
She got up from her desk chair and moved to one of the couches, motioning for me to take the other side. Katherine wore jeans and a black v-neck. Not really what I expected a professional to wear.
"You...have a degree in this, right?" I asked as I sat down.
"Yep!" she exclaimed cheerily, "But I'm my own boss, so I do things differently. Anyway, I'm going to ask some questions. Don't answer unless you want to."
I nodded. I doubted I'd want to answer any of the questions, but then she said,
"What's your grandpa like?"
And I just ended up telling her.
Telling her how he's amazing and funny, and he and grandma don't talk like old people. They make some really questionable jokes sometimes, seriously.
"Do you have any hobbies?"
"Well...I guess painting. Grandma thought I needed something to do since I don't socialize..."
Instead of asking why I didn't socialize, she got up and ran to a closet and pulled out a bunch of paints and some sheets of paper. She returned and lay the pages out on the coffee table in front of us and opened the paints. They were finger paints.
"Sorry I don't have anything more advanced," she said with a shrug, "I'm a child psychologist. Like, little children. You're my only client over ten years old."
"Kids under ten have issues like this?"
"You know, parents divorced or fighting, the kids start acting strange in school and the teachers suggest they see a psychologist. And really all they need is a break from their crazy families, so they come here and we finger paint. A lot."
I nodded thoughtfully as I dipped my finger into a navy blue paint and stroked the top of the page, leaving a smear of blue that faded at the end. I kept applying the paint before switching to a lighter blue and drawing lines underneath. I kept painting while we spoke.
Katherine didn't write prescriptions or anything. She explained to me that psychologists couldn't do that, but psychiatrists could. She also explained to me that she just ran her practice from her home, and she lived upstairs. Since she wanted to help children she thought it was a better environment then some small cramped office in a big metal building somewhere downtown. She advertised in newspapers for years until eventually people sent their children to her, then told their friends about her, and soon she had more and more clients.
"But my PhD is there on the wall," she said and pointed proudly to space above her desk.
And there it was. Her PhD. I put the finishing touches on my painting and held it up for her to see. It was a scene of a river during the night. There were two little people standing on a bridge above the water, and just a few lights in the city behind them.
She put it on the wall with other crude paintings of houses and dogs.
March 17th, 2008, 5:30 PM
It was the middle of my third session with Katherine.
We had talked about my grandpa the first time, my grandma the second, and now we were onto Sidney. I was telling Katherine all about her. How when we were ten she snuck out and ran to my house in the dark at 1 AM because her parents were having the biggest fight they'd ever had and she was scared. How when we were thirteen she refused to kiss a cute guy during Seven Minutes in Heaven because his brain was smaller than...never mind.
Anyway, I told her a lot. And then I told her how she saw Ellen die. Then I had my first mental breakdown of many to come during therapy. It took Katherine the remainder of our session to calm me down. She kept me overtime so she could make sure I was alright.
I sat nibbling on a chocolate bar and staring at the books on the shelf across from us. Most of them were encyclopedias. I asked why she had those if she was a child therapist.
"Well little kids have lots of questions," she explained, "I need to be sure I can answer every single one of them."
"Why? Can't you just say I don't know?"
"Well, I think these children should have at least one adult who can answer their questions without failure."
I told her that I hate my mom. She just nodded knowingly, and I wondered if she decided to become a psychologist because she had issues of her own during childhood.
April 7, 2008, 5:14 PM
I dropped something on the coffee table the moment Katherine asked me how school was going. She picked it up and examined it. It was a little packet full of white powder. She looked at me, and I nodded.
"Yes, it's what you think it is," I whispered.
"Where'd you get it?"
"A girl in my grade was giving them out after school and shoved it into my hand."
"I'm guessing this is a normal occurrence..."
"It seemed to be."
"Maybe you should transfer."
"There's no other public school I can go to because of where I live, and grandma and grandpa can't afford private school. Besides, I think there's just as many problems there."
"You're probably right," she agreed and tossed the packet into the fire place and lit it up.
We watched it burn slowly.
"Do you regret not trying it?" she asked.
"Not really," I replied, "I like to feel the pain of living. It reminds me that I'm actually alive."
"Well said."
May 12th, 2008, 5:45 PM
"It's tomorrow," Katherine commented as we were painting.
"Yep," I replied.
"You going to do anything for it?"
"Do you think I should kill myself?"
She put her jar of paint down and turned to me.
"Do you want to?"
"I feel like I should want to."
"And why is that?"
"Don't most people want to commit suicide when life sucks so bad?"
"Hmm, I'd argue that it's not most. We just hear about those that do."
"I guess."
"Does your life really suck that bad?"
I stared at her. My sister died exactly one year ago tomorrow, my mom left me and my dad, and my dad was missing. Also I hadn't seen my best friend in months and kids at school kept trying to get me hooked on drugs. Did she really ask me if life sucked?
"I mean," she clarified, seeing my face, "Do you think it really sucks that bad?"
I leaned back and thought.
"I...really don't know," I said with a heavy sigh, "I like living with grandma and grandpa I guess. And Sidney still keeps in touch with me, and I was afraid we might grow apart since I had to move, but so far we haven't. And now I'm into painting and possibly have a future career, if I can ever figure out body proportions. I hate my mother, so I don't miss her or anything. But dad's still missing, and I love him more than anything in the world. And Ellen is still dead."
"That's true, but your dad could be alive. And even if Ellen is dead, you are alive."
"It's the job of the living to live..." I murmured, "Sidney's mom told me that. I call her mom actually. Did I tell you that?"
Katherine shook her head.
"Well, I do," I replied, not sure where I was going with that.
"She's right though," Katherine said, "You can't change the past, but just because something bad happened doesn't mean you get to quit living your life. You only get one life, so you have no right to throw it away. Your mother did that didn't she? She stopped living, and then she left, and now she's alone and her only living child hates her."
"I don't want to be like that," I said, "But I still don't know."
"Your sister had problems with kids in her grade didn't she?"
"Yeah?"
"Many kids commit suicide because of bullying."
"I don't think she was necessarily bullied."
"You never know, all you know is she didn't choose to die."
"Just remember," she said raising a finger, "If you die, you might miss something important."
May 12th, 11:57 PM - The Present
I'm lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what Katherine and I talked about. I'm thinking about those deep topics. Life and death. Should I live, should I die. Do I deserve to live, or deserve to die. And who really does deserve to die? Surely some people, I can think of some, but those were all people like Adolf Hitler. What about normal people. Even the girl giving out crack at school. She doesn't deserve to die even if she's screwing up no only herself but others.
I sit up and slide out of bed. I walk to the window and open it to get some fresh air. The alarm clock beeps.
It is midnight.
It is officially May 13th, 2008.
It is the first anniversary of my sister's death.
Where was I when she died? I was sitting in my old house, on my old couch, working on a project I never ended up turning in. And then I was in my house with just dad because mom left. And then I was at Sidney's, and now I am here. Here with grandma and grandpa, but no Ellen, no mom, no dad, and Sidney is only here in spirit and text messages.
"God, what do I do..." I murmur to myself.
I'm not religious, I'm not asking God what to do. I'm just wondering in general; what the hell do I do? What if I never see dad again? What if he's dead too? And then what happens when grandma and grandpa die? And what if something happens to Sidney or her parents. Why is it all so uncertain?
I slam the window shut and kick the wall underneath it in frustration. I hate uncertainty, I hate change. I've had too much of it. I used to think I was adaptable, but how do you adapt to losing almost everyone who matters to you?!
"Honey? Honey are you okay?" Grandpa's voice comes from the hallway, "I heard a bang."
"I'm fine grandpa. I'm fine. I fell out of bed, that's all."
He opens the door and looks at me standing there in my blue and green striped pajama shorts and my white tank top with my strawberry blond hair braided down my back so it'll be wavy when I wake up. He opens his arms, and I run into them, having mental breakdown number twenty-seven.
We don't go back to sleep. We stay awake watching late night TV and eating turkey sandwiches for a midnight snack. By three AM we've hit the old cartoons. I didn't even know they still aired them at all, but I guess it is two AM so I wouldn't know. Usually I'm passed out asleep. At six AM grandma comes down and starts making breakfast. At seven we're eating toast and watching the morning news shows.
"What do you want to do today, baby?" grandma asks me, adjusting the robe she slept in.
"I'm going to ride grandpa's bike around the neighborhood, if that's okay?"
He nods and smiles at me. I think I may be making what most doctors call "progress." Katherine calls it something else I can't recall at the moment, since I've never really given her reason to use the term.
The phone rings, and I'm closest so I pick it up and hold it to my ear. It's one of those really old phones with a cord.
"Hello?" I say, reading the stock market statistics on the TV screen even though I don't own any stocks.
"Is this Lauren? Lauren Coin?"
"Yes?"
"It's Officer Collins."
"Oh, oh!" I sit up in surprise, "What's up?"
I wince because that sounds a bit too casual for a police officer, but I've already said it. Oh well.
"Well, we have some news on the case of your father..."
"And? What is it? God, what is it?"
"What's your current residency?"
"My current...um..."
I forgot the address. I can't believe it. I forgot the freakin' address. Grandpa takes the phone, he has amazing hearing for an old man, and recites the address into the phone. Then he hangs up and says,
"He's coming over."
"Why?"
He shrugs and gets up to put in more toast.
It takes Officer Collins a good half hour to get to the house. I'm dying of anticipation, couldn't he have driven quicker?! Though I guess as a cop he always just has to obey the speed limit. When the car pulls up, I suddenly don't want to talk to him. What if he came over so he could break it to me in person? What if dad's...dead? I don't know what I'll do if he's dead. I turn to run up the stairs, but grandma puts a hand on my arm and steers me back to the couch. Grandpa heads out to meet the officer. I guess if it's bad news he wants to be the one to break it to me. He'd do a better job at it.
I'm seriously about to cry. Bad news, what if it's bad news?
Then I'm flying out the door because someone else stepped out of the car after Officer Collins and he has blond hair and brown eyes and is wearing a brown jacket that always smells like cinnamon mints and he's alive and he's okay and, oh my God, he's okay.
I fling myself against my dad's chest and take a big whiff of that cinnamon mint jacket. He hugs me tight and offers no explanation as to where he's been, what he's been doing.
That's fine. I don't need to know. All I need to know is I've got at least one person I lost back and he's not going anywhere anytime soon because if he so much as leaves the house without me...
I swear to God...
I'll kill him.
-Thank you if you've read this far. I have one question I'd like you answer but then you can go all out with whatever you want. Do you think my title is okay, or should I change it? I struggle with titles, help. Please and thank you-
