Chapter Two

Goodbye

 

THE NEXT MORNING after breakfast, it was time to say goodbye to Mom. My bruises reared up and punched harder against my stomach. I had a hard time keeping breakfast down.

We gathered by the car. Mom hugged Uncle Butch first. “Take care of her. She’s the only thing I have left.”

That was the first time I ever heard her say anything that might even remotely suggest that maybe Dad was never coming back to us. It scared me because her hope that he was coming back was the only thing keeping her going.

After she hugged everyone else she walked over to me.

“Bye, honey, have a good time.” She kissed the top of my head. “And promise to call me every Saturday, okay?”

“I promise.”

As she wrapped her arms around me, I couldn’t help thinking about my dad, and how I never got to say goodbye to him. I couldn’t hold back the huge wave of emotion that was storming inside of me. The pain squeezed up through my chest and it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Tears streamed from my eyes. I wondered if she was ever going to come back for me or if this was our last goodbye, too.

I hugged her and whispered, “Please don’t leave.”

Her eyes filled with sadness, and, in that moment, she was someone other than my mother. “I have to, baby girl. I have to take care of some business back home.”

“Then take me back with you. I can help.”

“If there was any other way, I’d take it. Besides, I’m just a phone call away.”

That was true, but not true at the same time. She was one phone call, two states, and eight hours away.

“Be brave.”

I would do anything for my mom, so when she said that, I wiped away my tears and looked her right in the eye so she would understand. I would be brave for her. It was an unspoken promise. I smiled my sad smile at her and she smiled her sad smile back at me.

As she drove away, I watched until she blurred at the edges as if she was disappearing into another dimension. I sat quietly on the couch for a long time, trying not to throw up. Uncle Butch went to work as soon as my mom left and my aunt and cousins busied themselves, leaving me alone to sulk by myself. I rubbed the smooth surface of the penny Mom gave me, trying to hold on to the only thing I had left of her.

After a few hours, my aunt made lunch and insisted I eat something. I sat down next to Wendy at the kitchen table and poured a glass of milk. Then I forced a peanut butter and jelly sandwich down my throat, which was hard because it still felt like it was squeezed shut.

I sulked on the couch and when my aunt noticed she came over and sat down next to me. She put her arm on my shoulder. “It will all work out. Promise.”

I disagreed. It didn’t seem like anything was going to work out. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them.

“Honey, I know you’re sad, but you can’t mope around all summer.”

 

BUT I DID mope around. I moped around All Day, even though my cousins tried repeatedly to get me off of the couch and in a better mood. I started to understand the sadness that my mother just couldn’t shake. I was beginning to wonder if I was going to end up just like her, and I was scared.

Uncle Butch came home, and I was forced to eat dinner and pretend to feel alive, but I just went through the motions to appear normal.

After dinner, I asked if I could take a shower.

“Sure, go ahead, but you better get used to quick showers. The water only stays warm for a couple of minutes,” Aunt Lori said.

I went through the kitchen, which lead to a hallway where the shower and bathroom were. I walked into the shower stall and undressed. I reached my hand out to hang my clothes on the hook. The shower stall was so small that I could touch the sides with my hands outstretched and still have a bend in my elbows. I was thankful for the running water, although the stream was just a sputter. Raising my face to the showerhead, I let the water wash away the day’s grime. The tepid water quickly gave way to cold, matching my mood.

I rubbed my eyes and reached for the towel. My fingers felt the bar where the towel should have been, but it was empty.

I stood dripping and cold, so I yelled out, “Um . . . can I get a towel please?”

“Here you go.” Uncle Butch pushed a towel toward me. His silhouette behind the frosted white shower curtain looked like a bear lumbering before me.

“Your Aunt Lori wanted to make sure you had a clean, dry towel.”

Blinking away soap, I reached out and grabbed it. “Thanks.”

The rest of the night was quiet, and I couldn’t see a thing when I went to the bathroom. When I got back into bed, I pulled the covers over my head to feel safe, just like when I was little. My heart ached for my mother and I cried softly into my pillow until I fell asleep.