| |
“I don’t believe you.” I’m irrational. None of this is her fault, but I’m consumed with an inexplicable hatred for Sandy. For her lies.
“You’re wrong,” I insist. “That’s not what happened.”
This isn’t like me. One second I’m starting to figure it out, feel like I’m actually starting to remember. And then this? I don’t know why I’m so angry at her either, but it’s not like there’s some sort of textbook to tell you how you’ll respond when someone comes in and cuts out three whole months of your life.
It makes absolutely no sense at all.
“Chris would have never done this to me,” I repeat, and Sandy’s holding me, letting me swat at her with my fists. I’m not trying to hurt her. At least I don’t think I am. It’s a little bit hard to think right now, so excuse me if I’m not acting like myself. As if I even know who that is anymore.
“I know it’s hard to hear, sweetie.” Sandy keeps repeating these silly phrases that I’m sure mean well but only sound like nonsense to me. It’s hard to hear? I’d like to see what she’s like after someone opens up her brain and dissects her memories and then tells her that the two people she loves most in the world are actually a murderer and his victim.
It’s not true. None of it. Mom’s not dead. Chris isn’t guilty.
Which means he’s still out there.
Maybe.
I’ve got to find him. Is that why Dad took my phone away? And what about Mom? If she’s not dead, that means she’s somewhere too. Up until today, I thought the worst pain I’d ever been in was when I got my wisdom teeth yanked out. I wish I could go back to that now. I’ve heard of throbbing headaches before, but at least with a throb there’s that pulse of relief, however short lived. The pain for me is constant. Unabated.
I need my mom.
“I didn’t want to have to tell you,” Sandy sighs, as if this were all my fault. I just wanted answers. I didn’t ask for these lies.
“Can I pray for you, sweetie?” she asks, but I shake my head. I know it’s probably sinful for me to say, but I can’t withstand the mental fog long enough to pay attention to any prayer. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I want to sleep. I want to die. I want to throw up. Maybe I’ll go and do all three at the same time.
“What in the world is going on in here?” Dad comes racing in, then blurts into the phone, “I’m gonna have to call you back.” He stops in the threshold of the living room and stares at Sandy. “Oh. Is it Tuesday?”
She nods, and Dad’s angry expression softens.
“So you told her?”
Sandy nods again.
Dad hurries over to me. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I know it’s not easy to find out about it this way.”
“She told me Mom’s dead.” I want Dad to laugh. To tell me that Sandy is just making things up, but the pain in his expression tells me that he believes her lies as well.
Or at least he acts as if he does.
“I’m so sorry, Mimi.”
“It didn’t happen,” I protest. Because I know it isn’t true. At least I think it isn’t true. Am I remembering, or am I just refusing to believe the truth?
I don’t have the stomach to mention Chris. I sink back on the couch. Dad and Sandy probably assume I’m still upset at finding out about Mom, but my head hurts so much I can hardly think about her right now. Does that make me a terrible person? Am I selfish that I’m crying for myself and not my mother?
No, because I know she isn’t dead. I’m certain of it.
I’m going to get this figured out. I have to.
In the corner of the living room, Dad and Sandy are having a conversation in hushed tones. I catch the words sleep and shock and better after a nap. Sandy tells my dad it’s going to get easier.
“It’s so hard to see her like this.” He’s whispering. Probably thinks I can’t hear. Maybe they assume I’ve even fallen asleep. I’m tired enough I probably could. “Every single week,” Dad exclaims, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Is this my new Tuesday ritual? To hear about my mother’s death all over again?
“Did she ask about him?” Dad asks.
I’m too tired to hear Sandy’s answer. Or maybe she’s just better at keeping her voice down.
“I don’t think we should tell her anymore. Her brother says it might be better to say she’s on a trip or something ...”
I only catch the last half of what Sandy says then. “The truth will set you free.” It’s a verse from the Bible. I recognize it even though I couldn’t tell you if it’s from the Old or New Testament.
The truth will set you free.
As if I needed another reminder of this prison I’m in. A prison in my own mind.
The truth will set you free ...
Well, then it’s time for me to figure out some answers. Learn the real truth for myself.
But first, I need to sleep ...