Unfortunately, my hopes that mom would snap back to normal didn't materialize. She’d spend hours staring off into space with tears streaking down her cheeks. For the most part, she was as non-talkative as Megan, but would at least answer direct questions. By day five of being on our own, the silence began to wear on my nerves and the walls felt like they were caving in on me. I nearly wept with relief when my best friend Lacey called to ask if she could come over. I was desperate to have someone I could talk to that would sympathize with my pain.
Lacey and I headed up to my room as soon as she arrived. I closed my door and sank down on my bed ready to unload all my hurt.
“How are you doing?” she asked, giving me the opening I needed.
“Not good,” I said as tears filled my eyes. “My mom walks around the house like a zombie wearing my dad’s old t-shirts, and Megan still hasn’t said a word since the accident.”
“Ugh, that’s morbid,” Lacey said, shuddering.
“Well, I’m sure it’s normal,” I said, feeling the need to defend them even though I was just venting.
“Maybe your mom should get like some Valium or something.”
“She doesn’t need medication,” I said sharply, offended by her condescending tone.
“I’m just saying, when my uncle died last year, my aunt got some medication so she wouldn’t be all like doom and gloom or whatever,” Lacey said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Sooo, Jim’s been a total dick this week,” she added, shifting gears. “I’m thinking it’s time to kick him to the curb. His whole self-absorbed thing is way annoying. I mean seriously, there’s more to life than constantly worrying about some Ivy League school you want to go to, right?"
I looked at her in shock, wondering if she was serious. Here I was pouring my guts out and she wants to talk about freaking Jim? How could she be so superficial at a time like this?
Lacey seemed oblivious to my shock as she continued to rant more about Jim and then about some sophomore that tried to sit in the spot I normally inhabited at school during lunch, like I would give a crap about that right now. I found myself shutting down listening to her meaningless tirade. My hurt cloaked me like a blanket as the harsh reality that I had no one I could lean on came crashing down on me.
Lacey stayed for an hour until it was obvious my sullen attitude was grating on her nerves. She flounced down the stairs to the front door and out to her waiting red convertible. The glimpse of her car as she swung the door closed behind her only added to my anguish. Just a week and a half ago I was convinced I deserved a car like that. As the engine purred to life, I was reminded of the hateful words I had thrown at my dad on that last awful day. I pitched a fit because I was sick of driving the sensible car my parents had bought me for my sixteenth birthday, feeling I deserved something hot and sporty like some of my friends drove.
“It’s not like you don’t make enough money,” I pouted as my dad drove me to school.
“Kassandra, it’s not the money. It’s your safety,” he answered for the hundredth time, sighing at my tone.
“Whatever, you’re just trying to make me a social leper,” I grumbled, shooting a glare back at Megan in her car seat. She swung her dangling feet, making them lightly kick the back of my seat with each forward motion. “Stop kicking my seat, Megan,” I said, taking my frustration out on her. I felt a small twinge of guilt when her pretty blue eyes had filled with unshed tears.
“Try not to kick her seat, okay, Peanut?” My dad had said, looking at her in the rearview mirror. “Take it easy, okay?” he said, looking at me disappointedly.
“Whatever, take her side.”
“We’re not trying to ruin your social life, Kassandra. We just don’t feel like you’re living up to your full potential,” he answered, ignoring my comment.
“Oh right, you just don’t like my friends.”
“Your friends are fine, but…What the heck is that guy’s problem?” he said looking in the rearview mirror.
I pulled myself from the painful memories, but I couldn't erase them from running like a slide show in my head. I was absolutely horrible that day, climbing out of the car and slamming the door behind me without saying goodbye.
Aunt Linda was waiting for me when I returned from the funeral and did not look pleased.
“Where have you been?” she asked, taking in my white button-down shirt and my only pair of slacks.
I debated ignoring her. By her tone it was obvious she already knew the answer to her question.
“I went to the funeral.”
“Why? Why would you do that? Haven’t we already done enough harm to that family?”
“No one saw me,” I lied, heading down the hall to my new room.
“Well, I hope not. Can you imagine the repercussions if the media caught wind of it?” she asked, following me down the hall.
“I know,” I said, aggravated at having my stupid actions shoved back in my face. I couldn’t explain to her why I felt the need to go. How I was dying to know if Kassandra was really as strong as she had seemed when we saw her on the news.
I closed my bedroom door firmly in my aunt’s face and sank onto the floral comforter that covered my new bed. When Aunt Linda took me in she told me to change the room however I wanted, to make it my own, but it felt wrong to reap the benefits of my father’s actions. So, I left all my possessions behind when I vacated the house I had shared with my father, taking only my clothes and the one framed picture we had of my mother. Leaving my stuff behind seemed like a small price to pay in light of what my dad had done to the Cole family.
I yanked off my formal duds and changed into a pair of ratty jeans and my favorite t-shirt proclaiming that I would rather be a zombie killer than zombie bait. I leaned back against the padded headboard and pulled out one of my only possessions, my iPod. I had been tempted to leave that behind too, but got the shakes thinking about leaving behind my only means of escape.
The music blared through my ear-buds as I finally allowed myself the luxury to think about Kassandra. It was morbid to think about how she had looked at her own father’s funeral, but I couldn’t help remembering how her hair shined in the sunlight or how creamy her skin looked. Even when she had looked at me like she wanted to kill me, I couldn't control the pull I felt for her. I wanted to erase her sadness, but I knew that would never happen since her unhappiness was my fault.
Two weeks after my father’s funeral, Mrs. Leighton, my counselor from school called, inquiring about my return. I tried to hand off the phone to my mom so she could speak with her, but she shook her head and headed to her room. I sighed at her retreating backside and told Mrs. Leighton my mom was in the shower, but that I would be returning back to school in a couple of days.
“Make sure you come in and see me,” she said in a sweet voice.
“I will,” I lied, hanging up the phone. Mrs. Leighton oozed niceness, but the thought of opening up to her made me cringe. After my disastrous afternoon with Lacey, I had quickly come to realize that no one could possibly understand where I was coming from.
I headed down the hallway so I could discuss my return to school with my mom.
“Mom?” I asked, lightly pushing the door open when she didn’t respond to my knock.
“Hmmm?” she asked from her side of the bed where she was curled up.
“I have to go back to school on Thursday,” I said, sinking down on the mattress next to her.
“Okay,” she said listlessly.
“What are we going to do with Peanut?” I asked.
“She can go to her school,” my mom answered, looking at me, but not completely focusing on my face.
“Her gymnastics school?” I asked confused. “Will they let her go all five days?”
She shrugged one of her shoulders.
I sighed, trying not to let my impatience show. “Are you going to call and check?”
“I can’t. They’re bound to ask about your dad, and I just can’t handle that right now,” she said as tears
welled up in her eyes.
“I know Mom,” I said, patting her hand. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you,” she said in a cracking voice.
“Why don’t you get a little sleep,” I said, taking in the dark circles under her eyes that marred her pale face. I knew she wasn’t sleeping since I could hear her rattling through the house at all hours of the night.
“It’s just too hard to sleep without him there.”
“I know Mom,” I said, feeling my own eyes fill with tears. “Why don’t you try to nap in one of the guest rooms?” I added, tugging on her hand so she would stand up.
She followed meekly from the room with exhaustion spurring her on. I settled her in the guest room directly across from mine, and she was out the instant her head hit the pillow. I watched her sleep for several minutes thinking about how my father's heart would break to see her so sad.
Once I was positive she was fast asleep, I covered her with one of the quilts that hung from maple rods my father had hung from the walls of the room and softly closed the door behind me. I found Megan waiting silently for me in the hallway.
“Hey, Peanut, are you hungry?” I asked, swiping the last tears from my cheek, hoping she had missed them.
She nodded her head, looking beyond me at the closed door where my mom rested.
“Mom’s going to sleep in there for a while. Hey, let’s go get some lunch,” I said leading her down to the kitchen.
She trailed behind my every step as I pulled out one of the endless casseroles from our oversized stainless steel freezer and set it out on the counter so it could thaw for dinner. Megan held the fridge door open while I pulled out the sandwich fixings for our lunch. I tried to entice her to talk while I assembled two towering sandwiches for us.
“So guess what?” I asked, slathering ranch on my sandwich.
She looked at me silently, waiting for me to elaborate.
“You get to go to school,” I said, injecting excitement into my voice. A month ago when school had started, my words would have had her squealing with joy. She begged my parents for months to let her to go to school like me, but my mom told her she would miss her too much if she were gone all day. They had compromised by signing her up for a morning gymnastics class, twice a week. Megan thrived in her class and loved to share her tumbling stories with us at the dinner table. She’d been on her way to her Tuesday class when the accident happened. I was left with the task of stripping her out of her ruined leotard. I remember the rust-colored stains as I stripped her down to her cute little panties with the day of the week etched across the bottom. A kind nurse had disposed of the leotard for me as I dressed Megan in cheap pajamas the hospital had provided for us.
“I’m thinking maybe I’ll call the school your friend Mandy goes to,” I said, dragging my thoughts to the present. “Would you like that, Peanut?”
She looked at me critically, wise beyond her years. She’d always been insanely smart and I could tell that she saw through my false cheerfulness. “Mom just needs to figure things out. Okay?” I said, dropping down on my knees so I could cup her chin. “She still loves you, she just misses Dad.”
She nodded. I leaned my head forward until our foreheads touched. “You’ve got me, Peanut. I’m not leaving you,” I said as her lower lip trembled. Her cast clanked me in the back of my head as she threw her arms around my neck. Silent sobs shook her slender frame, and I gently rocked her back and forth while my own tears fell from my eyes.
It seemed impossible to think that we would ever recover from the pain we felt.
I spent the afternoon on the phone, withdrawing Megan from her gymnastics class and getting her enrolled into Mrs. Mimi’s Jr. Academy. They didn’t usually take enrollees after the school year started, but made an exception for us once they heard my last name. Our family had been splattered across the news for weeks so that everyone knew our name. I quietly explained Megan’s catatonic state and asked if that would be a problem. Mrs. Mimi herself assured me that they would be more than happy to take her and see if they could get her to open up again.
It felt like a huge weight had been lifted by the time I hung up the phone. I was anxious to be surrounded by my friends in a familiar environment. I can honestly say I've never hated school and being popular definitely had its perks. Hanging out with my friends at lunch and texting during class, that was my world. School was the social outlet I had always gravitated to. I missed my group of friends, even Lacey. I was thinking maybe I had overreacted when she visited the other day. Maybe her shallowness was just an act to cover up how she felt about the whole death thing.
***
The next morning, Megan and I drove to her new school so she could meet her teacher and get a lay of the land. It was so touching when her little friend Mandy threw her arms around Megan, offering the support I had been expecting from my own best friend. I watched from the doorway as Mandy dragged Megan around the room, pointing out all her favorite things. It seemed extraordinary to me that a four-year-old seemed to know exactly what Megan needed.
Mrs. Mimi joined me at the doorway and introduced me to Megan’s teacher, Ms. Hope. She looked to be in her early twenties and had that fresh I-love-all-kids attitude about her. I was ashamed to admit there was a time that I probably would have mocked her bubbly personality to my entourage of friends, but that part of me was gone. Now, I was insanely relieved that Megan would be with someone so happy since her home life was now the exact opposite.
Mrs. Mimi loaded me up with enrollment papers for my mom to sign and gave Megan’s shoulder a pat. “We look forward to having you as a part of our school,” she said kindly.
Megan nodded, grabbing on to my hand.
“You’re not staying today, Peanut,” I said, understanding her sudden apprehension. “You’ll start tomorrow.”
She smiled at me, relieved.
“How about some lunch?” I asked, buckling her into her car seat.
She shrugged her shoulders dismissively.
“Come on, Peanut. You don’t want to have to go see Dr. Andrews, right?”
She shook her head quickly.
“Okay, so we get lunch, and then we'll go somewhere special, okay?”
She nodded.
After swinging through the McDonald’s drive-thru, I drove several miles up the road before pulling down the wooden path leading to Megan’s favorite destination. I glanced in the mirror and saw a slight glimmer of happiness blaze through her eyes before they once more clouded over.
I knew when I had picked this destination it would be painful since memories of my father swirled around it, but I needed to show Megan that though the memories were painful, we could face them head-on.
“Come on, Peanut, let’s go eat with some mountain lions,” I said, naming her all-time favorite animal at the small zoo.
Megan grabbed the bag with our lunch as I juggled our drinks while trying to fish our annual passes out of my purse. I had yet to use my pass since zoo outings were usually reserved for Saturdays, and I had always been too busy to grace my family with my presence. The cashier's eyes widened with recognition when she spotted Megan. I cringed inside, willing her silently not to say anything. This trip was painful enough without having to field the sympathy of others.
Sensing my silent plea, she simply flashed us both a smile. “Have a nice day,” she said, before handing back our passes.
“Thanks,” I said, following behind Megan as she headed toward the fenced-in outdoor area where they kept the mountain lions.
Megan and I settled on the rough wooden benches that faced the enclosure. I handed over her cheeseburger and then pulled out my own. The lions were on the far side of the enclosure, but slowly crept closer as they became curious about our presence.
“You better hurry and eat that cheeseburger. I think Charlie thinks it’s for him,” I said, pointing to the male lion she had named months ago as he paced in front of the enclosure. As if to emphasize my point, Charlie rolled out his rou
gh pink tongue and licked his chops. I couldn’t help but giggle and felt even better after looking over at Megan and saw her own eyes shining brightly with a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She munched on her cheeseburger with more enthusiasm than she had shown for food in weeks. I mentally kicked myself for not ordering an extra cheeseburger after watching her scarf it down with such gusto. Her fries went down equally fast and I handed over my own fries, happy for her sudden indulgence. Her attention remained fixated on the lions that continued to pace in front of their enclosure.
“They’re pretty cool, huh, Peanut?” I asked, breaking the silence.
She nodded her head, at least looking at me happier than I had seen her in awhile.
We spent the rest of the afternoon visiting the other animals. I could tell which ones were Megan’s favorites by the order we visited them. She skirted around the building that housed the creepy crawlies all afternoon and only faced the doors with great trepidation after we had visited every other animal the zoo housed.
“We don’t have to go in,” I told her, reaching down to rest a hand on her shoulder.
My words spurred her on, and she grasped the door handle with both hands and pulled it open swiftly. She stepped into the dimly lit room and slowly walked by each glass enclosure. Although she did not pause to give each one her own silent greeting like she had with all the other animals, she did make sure each one got a small acknowledgement.
I hadn’t attended many of the family excursions to the zoo, but had witnessed several of Megan's and my dad's debates over the differences between insects and animals. Megan felt that since bugs really weren’t considered animals, they didn’t need to be visited. My father had claimed that anything that was a living thing deserved some amount of respect and at least warranted a brief visit. Megan had grudgingly agreed and allowed him to lead her around the small enclosed room, even though it freaked her out.
I couldn’t help wondering what thoughts were running through her head as she paid tribute to each creepy crawly, or maybe the tribute was to our dad.