The Date of Death Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Any person watching me sleep would think I was having a seizure. I twisted and turned and if the walls weren’t soundproof, you could probably hear labored breathing. With one last twist, I bolted up. My hair fell out from my bun and landed around my head. I couldn’t stop my breathing from coming out in hard gasps. I kept my eyes scrunched up. My only thought was, That was new. And it was new. My dreams weren’t usually like this. I could still see all the screaming faces and glowing numbers. I tried to move my legs, but couldn’t. Before I started hyperventilating, I noticed my legs were tangled with the bed sheets. I tried to quickly untangle my legs and get up at the same time. That didn’t work. I almost hit the ground, but was able to balance myself.

I went into the bathroom and got ready to take a shower. The warm water was soothing and I was able to wash away the mud from last night. Again, I scrubbed until my skin was red. I rinsed my hair and washed it twice to ensure that all the mud was gone. The water and mud mixed together to make an ugly brown color. I got out of the shower, toweled dry, and looked at my reflection in the mirror. The steam from the shower and my red skin made my reflection look alien. I hoped it changed soon; I would probably scare my mom. During all this time, the only thing I could think about was my dream. I knew if I thought of anything else, though, I would forget the dream.

My normal dreams consisted of seeing faces of dying people like family members or just random people. Some of them died peacefully; others not so much. However, this dream was different because I saw people that were already dead - my neighbor, second grade teacher, my grandfather, and my father. It was painful to watch, but thank goodness, they didn’t talk. I did though. I asked them why they were here and what was happening. They just looked at me with their dying faces. My talking had no effect.

I walked downstairs with the people’s faces still fresh in my mind. I went into the kitchen and heard a scream and a crash. Pulled out of my thoughts, I jumped back. There was my mom standing in the middle of the kitchen. She was dressed in a bathrobe and her hair was pulled back. She clutched her heart and breathed fast, her eyes closed. Her coffee cup was on the floor, broken in pieces. The spilled coffee seeped into the wood. I grabbed some napkins from the kitchen table and wiped the coffee off the floor. I looked at my mom’s face. She had opened her eyes and tried to calm her breathing. She sighed, got another cup from the cupboard, and made another cup of coffee.

Leaning against the counter, she said to me, “Really, Thana. You shouldn’t scare me like that.” This happened a lot. My mom startled easily. I came down to the kitchen in the morning, she screamed, and dropped whatever she held. We were running out of mugs.

After all the coffee was wiped up, I got my own mug and made myself some tea. Mom put some bread in the toaster. I was lost in thought; I had forgotten my dream by now. The faces of my grandfather and my father were gone. As hard as I tried to remember, I couldn’t. I sighed, as I took my tea to the small kitchen table and sat across from Mom. I drank my tea, still trying to remember my dream. I gave up and noticed her staring at me. I looked away and noticed how awkward this silence was. There was an obvious question in her eyes, which I saw every day. What happened to my smiley, bright, happy daughter? And who was this expressionless, silent girl taking her place? Like every morning, no one broke the silence.

“

Finding my bag proved to be harder than I thought. After eating breakfast, I decided to take on the mission of finding it. I had about 10 minutes until the bus came. I hoped my bag would be in plain sight, but unfortunately, I didn’t see it. I looked through the bushes that lined the bottom of the hill. I searched some more, hoping for any sight of my bag. I finally found it around the sixth bush. It was covered with dirt and mud and I almost didn’t notice it on the mud-covered ground. Opening the bag, I hoped it would be clean and dry inside. Luckily, I must have remembered to zipper it sometime yesterday because everything was exactly as it was before, messy. I cleaned the debris off my bag by rubbing it with my hand. My bag was a shade of dark purple, and I was able to make it look decent. I knew the bus would come soon, so I headed back to the top of the driveway near a huge tree stump. Ever since we moved here, I sat on the stump and waited for the bus. Today was no different. The tree that used to stand here must have been huge and old. I traced the tree rings, not counting them, just tracing them with a single finger. Each year that passed in this tree’s life created one of these rings. I would never know when this tree died, even if it was alive once. I couldn’t see the date of anything of nature or an animal’s death date either. It was refreshing really to see something that was alive and not be able to see the date when it would die.

I got closer to the first ring. The rings were getting smaller and smaller. Once I finished circling the last ring, I tapped the middle of the tree with my finger. Suddenly, there was a loud beep. I looked toward the road and saw my school bus right in front of me. I must have been so lost in thought that I didn’t notice it driving up. I quickly grabbed my bag and dashed to the front of the bus. The sliding door was open and I was able to jump in quickly. I looked up apologetically at my bus driver and cringed instantly. He was a nice old man whose name I had never known. He didn’t usually talk except to say hi, but that wasn’t the thing that made me cringe; it was his numbers. The date above his head was something I saw every day. Today, though, it really hit me. His death was in a few days. His date seemed to glow brighter now so close to his death. It shocked me and I was motionless. This man drove me to school every day since the first day of school back in kindergarten. And soon, he would be dead. My mind caught up with my body and I walked to the back of the bus. I walked backward, still staring at the back of his head. His numbers seemed to taunt me. I stumbled into a seat and slid across it. My mind wandered to this morning. Of course, I noticed my mother’s numbers; I did every day. But her date wouldn’t come up for years. It had been a while since I saw a person with a date so close and it had shocked me. I looked over the top of my seat and I saw the old man’s numbers again. I slid back down. I closed my eyes and tried to regain my usual calm demeanor. I tried to think about anything other than death and numbers, but I failed miserably.

I stopped visiting my grandparents after I learned what the numbers meant. It was almost unbearable for a nine year old to see her grandparents with the dates of their deaths floating above their heads. School was difficult, too. Seeing young kids with close death dates was excruciating. Being nine years old, I would often wonder what was wrong with me. Should I tell someone that I could see the date of their death above their head? Sometimes, I thought I was cursed. I once was bubbly, happy go lucky, and talkative. Now I was a depressed, straight-faced, silent, outcast, nine year old. My family and friends thought I was depressed about my father’s death. I stopped seeing my friends, too. How could you be with your friends when all you could see was their glowing death dates above their heads? As I got older, I got used to seeing people’s numbers and was able to speak to my mother, but I never got close to my friends again. To this day, I only had one true friend, May, who was an earthy, friendly, vegan, animal lover. Guiltily, I remember one of the reasons that I befriended May when I first met her was her long lifespan. She would live past 100 years old.

Waking from my thoughts, I noticed May sit down next to me. Her ginger hair was pulled back into a messy braid. She smiled happily for no apparent reason. She watched me to see if I was going to talk today. I wasn’t known for lengthy conversations. May usually talked for both of us. She didn’t seem to mind. Sometimes, I listened to her talk and other times, I just traveled through my own thoughts. “Hi,” I said quietly.

May heard me, even if the bus was full of clamor from the other kids. “Hi. Can you tell me what you’re doing down there?” she asked, bending down to talk to me. I noticed that I was still under the seat, hiding from the bus driver’s numbers.

I gave a wry smile that only May and my mom saw. “I dropped something,” I answered blandly. Her eyes narrowed, seeing my lie. May had a talent; she could tell when anyone lied. Usually, I didn’t need to lie to her, and she never lied to anyone. I sat up, trying to avoid her lie detecting eyes. But as soon as I sat up, I saw the bus driver’s haunting numbers and I slowly slid back down in my seat. May saw distress on my usual emotionless face.

She slid down next to me. “Are you okay?” she asked again, concerned. To avoid lying, I just nodded and looked out the bus window. May talked about different types of flower symbolisms while I watched the passing scenery. I wondered why May would live to be so old. Was it because she was a vegetarian? Or was she just lucky? Was life only a game of chance? A game where you could die young or you could die old? Or was there one decision you made in your life that would decide when you would die?

I straightened my back and saw the bus driver’s numbers again. Instead of panicking, I wondered if I could change it. Maybe I could convince him to stay home next week. Or would his death happen at his house and it would be my fault? Could people’s dates even change? I’d never seen it happen nor had I ever tried to change one. I looked around the bus filled with kids I had known for years. None of their numbers had ever changed, not once. Were their deaths unchangeable? All these thoughts gave me a headache. I leaned my head against the window. The gray cloudy sky signaled that it might rain; good thing I remembered my coat. May’s talking was soothing and I slowly drifted off to a light sleep.