SEEING THROUGH

THE SNOW

Deborah Wakefield

1

WINTER

2010

2

WEDNESDAY

“Short black with no sugar!” I called out to the barista who was frothing milk behind me. He

nodded in acknowledgment as he continued putting together the drink in his hand. A few

seconds later the same cup was placed in my hands.

“Decaf cappuccino with two sugars!” I hollered, holding the cup out waiting for the short,

grey haired lady who had ordered the coffee to make her way to the front of the line and collect

it. Wiping my forehead with my sleeve, I turned around to grab the next cup. This was one of

the busiest times of the day as all the office workers from the buildings across the street were

on lunch break wanting their coffee and sugar fix, as well as the construction workers from the

new supermarket that was being built down the street, and then the usual passer-bys wanting a

casual cake and coffee with their friends. In the midst of all the orders I managed a few glances

at the large clock hung up behind me. Four hours to go. I always hated working the extra hours

but the thought of the extra money kept me going. Another hour went by and I changed from

the front counter to waitressing, handing out the baked goods that had been ordered to those

who wanted to dine in. At least this was less hectic; just.

Chloe arrived for the afternoon shift at two and I only had two hours to go. As Chloe logged

in and grabbed her apron I was heading into the kitchen to collect my next plate, thankful for

the time we had together where our shifts overlapped.

“Paige! Hey, Honey, how are you?” Chloe was a tall, skinny, 22 year old blonde waitress

who was only working at Starbucks to pay her way through Boston University, which wasn’t

too far from the coffee house. She was my closest friend at work and was always there to listen

or give advice.

Returning from the kitchen with a plate for myself and another for Chloe, I responded.

“Croissant table 4, and I’m okay, considering the longer shift.” Taking the second plate from

me, she made her way over to the waiting customers, a couple in their mid 30’s.

“Double shift? I didn’t think you had the time for that. How’s things with Raegan then?”

Her voice was soft as we swiftly walked side by side back into the kitchen.

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“Of course I don’t have time for double shifts, but you know I need the money. Raegan’s

parents won’t help with the cost of the wedding any more than my mother will! And I don’t

know how he is; he left before I even woke up this morning.” My voice cracked as I spoke the

last words. I didn’t dare look Chloe in the eyes, she would see right through my fake smile.

“I can’t believe them! Their only son and they can’t even help with the cost. We all know

they have the money, too. Another morning without seeing him? Paige, that’s the third time in

two weeks, are you sure things are okay?” By this time we were already serving another set of

plates, she was practically shouting across the shop.

“Of course things aren’t okay Chloe!” I was getting unsettled now. “I’m 19 and engaged to

a guy I don’t want to be with. I’m supposed to be out with friends, going to university, having

fun! Not planning a wedding and working all day, every day to pay for it!”

A few people turned heads as I started to raise my voice. I hung my head in embarrassment

and waved apologetically. Back in the kitchen there were no more plates; yet.

“It will be okay, Hon. If you wait a few more months you can divorce him and take all his

money!” She giggled. Knowing she was trying to cheer me up, I hugged her.

“Thanks for listening.”

She hugged me back tighter and just nodded in comfort. Several moments later we were

back out serving and were so busy that that was the end of our conversation.

Ten minutes left. I did one last round, handing an apple pie to a young guy at table 2 who

had the most amazing emerald colored eyes. Finally the clock read 4:00 and I headed into the

staffroom. Hanging up my apron and collecting my belongings from my locker, I sighed,

thinking about how I had to do it all over again tomorrow. Logging out, I waved to Chloe and

then slowly made my way to the front door. It had started to snow halfway through the last

hour of my shift and it looked freezing. The full force of the icy winds hit me as soon as I

opened the door. Wrapping my coat around me and zipping it up right to the top, I ran down

the street to seek shelter at the bus stop. My hair soaking wet, I sat down on the cold wooden

benches, cursing myself for not thinking to bring my other jacket with the hood. A quarter of

an hour had passed and I looked at my phone. Raegan should be here to pick me up by now. I

unlocked my phone and dialed his number but after it rung five times, I knew he wouldn’t pick

up. Putting my phone back in my pocket I looked at the time schedule for the buses. The last

one leaving for Harvard Road had left at 3:50 and then next one was at 5:30. My mood turned

sour and, as if the weather understood, the snow and rain starting pelting down even thicker.

Giving up, I put my head in my hands and started to cry. I was sick of my life and I was sick

of the weather. I was sick of my family and Raegan’s. I just wanted an escape.

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I was still sobbing when I felt a presence next to me and, looking up, I saw there was a guy

sitting next to me. Wiping the tears from my eyes I now recognized him. It was the guy from

table 2 who had ordered the apple pie. Ashamed, I quickly mumbled an apology for my crying

then blushed, knowing I didn’t need to. When I glanced back at him, he smiled and, in an

instant, I was already comfortable around him. After a few seconds of contemplation, I decided

to sit closer to him. As I shuffled across, I introduced myself.

“Hello, I’m Paige.”

There was no reply. There it was, a moment that I recognized, but I continued.

“Waiting for my fiancé to pick me up, but it looks like I might be taking the bus now.” He

seemed to frown as I said fiancé; I gave him a quizzical look but said nothing of it. “He must

be busy at work and forgot.” I was making excuses now. “And don’t worry about the crying

just before, just a tough day at work, I mean you saw how busy the shop was today, right?”

As if he knew I was lying he put his arm around me and, as he did, I breathed in, trying to

hold back more tears. Surprised he hadn’t said anything yet, I pushed on.

“Fine, you got me. My fiancé and I have been fighting. I thought he was the love of my life,

but now things have changed.” Realizing I was telling a complete stranger my life story I

wondered if I should stop there, but for some reason, it felt like I knew him. “It was your

typical high school love story. We met when we were 15 and he proposed as soon as we

graduated. At the time, of course, I said yes, but if I knew this was what my life would come

to, I wouldn’t have.” Sighing I looked at him again, seeing whether or not I should continue.

He nodded, signaling for me to keep talking.

“Now we are 19 and he spends all day with his friends and I spend all day working at

Starbucks. His parents hate me so I’m the one paying for the entire wedding and my mom

doesn’t agree with such a young marriage. I’m now stuck, because I don’t love him anymore

but don’t have the nerve to cancel the wedding. What can I do? It’s too late for university

submissions and I don’t have enough money left to buy another place to live. I just want to be

living a normal 19 year old’s life!” I started to breathe heavy, not looking at the stranger beside

me.

I couldn’t say any more; it was too hard. My chest started to heave and I gave in to the

emotions. The sobs were loud and painful, making my whole body ache. As if not knowing

what to do, the guy still didn’t say anything and just hung his head. Suddenly feeling like this

was all wrong I opened my eyes and stood up. I had said too much. I had pulled down the

barriers; I was all exposed. Turning to run off, I felt a tug and, looking around, found that he

had hold of my arm, as if pleading with me not to go. Scared, I wrenched it away and his grip

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fell and his arm rested at his side once more. I had to leave. I looked at him; he looked sad,

almost empty, so my eyes flashed upwards to stare at the sky instead.

The rain and wind had lessened but the many clouds were still as black as a giant panther

that was stalking the sky; hunting the rays of light like they were prey trying to escape its

grasp. Even if I wanted to flee, the otherworldly being who controlled the skies obviously

wasn’t going to let that happen. Slowly turning back into the confinement of the shelter and

pulling my phone out of my jacket pocket, I pressed the lock button, illuminating the screen.

The large black numbers read 4:30pm, meaning that there was still an hour until the next bus

arrived and an hour I had to spend with this person that I had never met before, yet was closer

to than half the people already existing in my life. The things I had shared since meeting him

far exceeded what I usually told my friends and, even though it had been barely an hour since I

first met him, I felt very much at ease with him, as if I had known him before.

There it was again, the feeling of familiarity around this person. Were my feelings true? Had

I already met this stranger?

I was once again sitting on the uncomfortable seats that jutted out from the walls of the

steel, box-like refuge, but made sure that there was plenty of space between us. I wished he

would say something, anything, to break the sullen silence that had grown thick in the air,

trying to suffocate me. A decision had to be made. If he wasn’t going to talk then I would have

to, before it drove me mad.

“There wasn’t always just Raegan you know,” I blurted out, knowing I would regret this but

also knowing it was the only subject I felt the need to share.

He turned to look at me, his eyes stayed on my face, as if fixated by every word I spoke. He

wanted to hear more.

“The same year I met Raegan there was also another boy I met and, if I think back, I’m sure

I met him first.” Forcing my mind to backtrack the years until I reached the memories I

wanted, I started seeing things more clearly. I cleared my throat, knowing that this was going

to be a long story, and forgetting about being late for dinner, about Raegan and the bus, I

brought the memories to life again. Speaking directly to the only person around, my stranger, I

told my side of life. My eyes closed.

“It was 2006 and just like today it was the first week of winter…”

6

WINTER

2006

7

WEDNESDAY

It was the first week of winter and there was snow everywhere. Mom had picked me up

from school and we were sitting in the hospital waiting room. A short, blonde haired nurse,

accessorized with a pristine badge reading ‘Monica’ and the usual mask of happiness, came up

to us, helped my mother to her feet and led us to the elevator. The doors reopened on level 5

and Monica continued to lead us down many long and narrow hallways, twisting and turning

through the hospital until we finally reached room number 162.

It was a small private room, just what my mom had asked for. When we entered, my dad

was sitting in the small wooden chair that was placed in the corner of the room. He had the

television onto the weather channel but was reading the daily newspaper, totally oblivious to

the synopsis charts and forecasts showing on the screen. That’s when I thought he was going to

be fine. He was back to his normal habits already, which made me giddy with reassurance.

After ten very awkward seconds my dad realized he had visitors and reluctantly put down

his paper and muted the television. I rushed to his side and hugged him. He got up off his chair

and hugged me back and we just stood there embracing for what seemed a very long time, but

after five minutes Mom called my name.

“Paige. We need to go.”

Go? How could I just leave my dad here? Didn’t she understand that he only had a few

weeks left? He needed me and more importantly, I needed him!

It took Mom several minutes to get me to leave, but when I finally did let go of Dad, I left

without a fuss. We walked down the same hallways, each new turn making me that little bit

more claustrophobic. When we got back to the waiting room, Mom went off to fill out some

paperwork and I went to find the seat that I had sat in before. As I got closer to the chair I saw

there was a boy sitting in it. He looked miserable.

After a few seconds of contemplation, I decided to sit next to him. As I sat down, I

introduced myself.

“Hello, I’m Paige.”

There was no reply. So I tried again.

“What is your name?”

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Still no response. I was starting to regret sitting here. Why wasn’t he answering me? I turned

in my chair and faced him.

I looked at him and took in what I saw: Messy, brown hair, the color of a grizzly bear’s fur

that fell just below his ears and tanned skin that peeked out of his bulky winter coat, matching

the color of his jeans that were a faded charcoal. But it was his shoes that caught my eye; dirty,

old, orange Converse. As I looked back up, I noticed the long slender fingers that seemed too

elegant, too graceful for the boy that owned them.

Still looking at his fingers, I saw he was writing on a chalkboard. One that could fit in your

bag, it was that small. After he finished writing, he held it up to me. I read it aloud.

“Hey I’m Rory.”

Rory. Such an interesting name that was actually quite well suited for him; kind of edgy and

rebellious. But there was one question playing on my mind. Why the chalkboard? Was he one

of those ‘silent treatment’ kids? I didn’t dare to ask though. I really didn’t like the idea of

offending someone this early in the day. So I sat there in silence, hoping my mouth kept shut,

in case I said something I would regret.

I sat there next to him in total silence for another few minutes until Mom came back. I stood

up, gave Rory a small wave and left.

As I hopped in the car I wondered if I would ever see him again. I thought about that

possibility and found the prospect of running into Rory in the near future very slim. It started to

snow again when we were halfway home. I didn’t even know if he went to my school or not. If

he did, he obviously wasn’t in my grade, but that might be the case, since he looked a few

years older than me.

There was a pile of letters in the letterbox that afternoon; all bills I assumed. I chucked the

envelopes onto the kitchen table and went up to my room. I had booted up my computer that

sat on my huge wooden desk and was just logging into my emails when I heard Mom calling

me.

“Honey! There is something for you in the mail!”

One of those letters was for me? That was strange, I hardly ever got mail. I rushed down

stairs and snatched the envelope from my Mom’s grasp, then ran back upstairs and shut my

door. I read the front of it. It was definitely for me. I slowly peeled it open and started to read

it.

Dear Paige!

You’re invited to my big, birthday celebration!

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This Saturday, 6pm at my place!

Love Sasha. xxxxx

Ah, Sasha; the class princess. Your classic ‘It girl’ who is friends with anyone and everyone.

Her annual birthday bashes were huge and this year would be no exception. Practically the

whole school gets invited, and of course I would not be going. Well that was a letdown; all that

excitement for another ‘Sasha’ invite. I scrunched up the paper and threw it at the bin. It went

in. I went back to my emails. Like always, there was just spam mail.

That night I went to sleep dreaming about Dad.

10

THURSDAY

Breakfast and the long bus ride went by in a blur and next thing I knew I was walking down

the school corridor. I was coming up to my locker when something slammed into me. I fell to

the ground and the thing –now obviously a person- came down with me. I felt them get up off

me and reach for my hand. I let them help me to my feet and I looked up to see who it was. We

both had the same shocked expression painted on our faces when we met eyes. It was Rory.

He walked with me to my first class -which was Biology in the A block- while repeatedly

writing “sorry” on his chalkboard. I told him it was okay, and that I was just glad he was okay

too. I told him I was a freshman and found out in return that he was a junior.

I said (and he wrote) goodbye as I came to the lab, and I watched him go towards the C

block. That lesson I could not focus. I kept thinking about how I didn’t realize that he went to

my school. I guess it was because there were over 1300 students at my school, and I didn’t

know most of my own class, let alone any other classes. At lunch, I went and sat at my usual

table by myself and looked out over the sea of people for Rory. I didn’t see him at all so I just

sat there, ate my usual ham and cheese sandwich and hoped he would stroll through the huge

glass canteen doors at any minute.

Sitting in a window seat that afternoon on the bus, I stared at all the people going past as

they laughed and joked around with their friends, realizing that I didn’t have a single friend in

this entire place. And in that tiny moment, as the bus sped off and people on the other side of

the glass turned into undistinguishable blurs, I felt all alone.

On impulse I got off the bus three stops early, right in front of the hospital. The tall, grey

building loomed before me and, while I approached the doors, I imagined how much happier

the place would be if it were painted a color such as yellow. I entered and went straight to the

elevators. The doors shut and I clicked the button for level 5. I stood there silently as the doors

reopened on level 2 and had to stop myself from staring. A young girl, who wouldn’t have

even seven with no hair, was being wheeled into the elevator. The person pushing the

wheelchair was an older woman, closely resembling the girl, who leaned forward and pushed

the level 5 button. We rode the elevator in silence and I practically ran out when the doors

opened on the 5th floor. I am and always have been scared of sick people; my dad is the only

exception to this phobia.

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It took me a while to find my dad’s room; I just couldn’t remember the exact path the nurse

had shown us yesterday. I wasn’t that interested in the route we were taking at the time. When I

eventually found the room, I knocked but there was no answer. I pushed open the door and

found my dad asleep in the corner chair. I didn’t want to wake him so I opted to finding Jess to

ask for another chair. When I returned, I sat there watching him sleep, thinking of all the

memories we had shared when I was younger, before he got sick.

Looking at my watch I knew it was time to leave. Eight o’clock was creeping closer and

Mom would be expecting me for dinner. I put my chair back in the nurses’ station, kissed my

dad on the forehead and made my way back down to the entrance. Pacing towards the

automatic doors, I stepped aside and let a small group of people pass. After going through the

doorway, I swore that I saw a familiar mop of grizzly bear brown hair and pair of bright orange

Converse.

Mom had pasta organized for dinner that night. I was looking forward to it… until I realized

she had made the one with tuna in it, so of course I hardly touched it. At least the patterns I

made with my fork looked impressive. A few hours later I was in my room, lying on my bed

with my stomach grumbling as I grew even hungrier, but it was worth it. I hated that pasta. I

knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep without food though so, grabbing my fluffy, purple dressing

gown, I crept downstairs to the pantry. Luckily there was one packet of Oreos left, ironically

right next to the tins of tuna, so I stuffed them into my pocket and went back to my room. With

the empty packet in the bin and my stomach no longer growling in hunger, I finally found

sleep. I dreamt of Dad again, but this time someone else was sitting with him in the hospital, a

boy. I couldn’t see who it was but his presence didn’t scare me. I was puzzled with this

mystery all night long.

12

FRIDAY

School the next day was slow. There was no sign of Rory, plus I was bombarded with two

surprise tests. My day wasn’t going well. The class was buzzing with the news of Sasha’s

party, which made my day worse. The usual lunchtime alone gave me time to think about the

weekend which started the next day. I didn’t want to stay around the house in case my mother

decided to take the day off work; a mother/daughter day was the complete opposite to what I

needed. The hospital? No, Dad would be getting his treatment that afternoon and he always

was too ‘out of it’ to have visitors after treatment. Sasha’s party? That wasn’t even an option! I

just didn’t follow that crowd, or any crowd really. The park? Yeah the park would work.

The beautiful nature park that was a short walk away from our house was perfect for my day

tomorrow. Not many people go to this particular park because of the animals. A large variety

of wildlife run freely on the grass and up the trees, feeding on the rubbish left behind by

tourists. It would be quiet and peaceful there, just what I wanted. I could bring some bread for

the ducks and nuts for the squirrels. It was just like our old family summer days. The end of

lunch bell rang and I was brought back to my ‘school mode’.

I spent the bus ride home mentally listing the things I was going to bring for my day in the

park; Picnic blanket, water, roller-skates, and I couldn’t forget my camera.

At home, Mom tried to convince me that I should stay with her the next day, but I

repeatedly told her about my plans to spend the day at the park. As Mom does, she tried to get

me to let her come too, but I told her I needed some space to think about Dad. That was the end

of that discussion. Mom avoids anything to do with Dad. The news that he was probably going

to die hadn’t hit her yet. She still hadn’t come back to reality.

As I fell asleep listening to the sound of the snow piling onto our rooftop, I was glad that

that night my mind was empty and that I slept a dreamless sleep. The mystery of the visitor

with my dad could stay away for at least one night but I knew it eventually had to come back

and confuse me more.

13

SATURDAY

Up early the next day, I was packing for the park. After checking and re-checking my bags,

I was able to arrive just before the sun rose. I found a reasonably comfy bench to sit on,

wrapped myself up in the blanket I had packed and sat in awe of the sky that was luminous

with the oranges, pinks, and yellows of the rising sun that were blending with the cool purples

and blues of the night now gone. I must have dozed off while watching the sky because next

thing I knew I felt a presence by my side. I woke with a start and saw Rory staring at me.

We said nothing as we sat there and smiled at each other. His eyes were a piercing dark

green, something that I had never noticed before. Glittering emeralds that sparkled in the day’s

new light; beautiful compared to my very dull steel blue. Looking into his eyes I saw his pain, I

saw the loneliness he dealt with just like me and I understood, right then and there, that he

made no sound not out of choice, but because that was the way he was. He had been born

without the ability to speak, a mute.

The rest of the morning went slow, which was really good. Rory and I shared stories about

our lives. I found out that he had moved here two years ago. Also, he had a little sister who was

seven years old. I told him that I had lived here my whole life and about my older sister, Jess,

who was a nurse at the local hospital, just like my mom. He said he also knew her since he

visits the hospital quite often. I knew he had something to tell me, the reason why he often

went there. But I didn’t pressure him because my conscience told me that he would share it

when he was ready.

At midday I opened the salad sandwiches I had packed. We got up from the bench and ate

while we walked around the park. Just as we came to the thickest part of the park, we saw some

movement up ahead and we both turned to look at each other; we wanted to investigate. As we

crept closer, it became clear. It was a squirrel who was scurrying up a tree. We stood huddled

together and watched it leap from branch to branch until we could no longer see its big tail

among the thick sticks. Eventually I got talking again, and when it was his turn to reply I was

perplexed (not for the first time though) at the speed in which he wrote on his chalkboard. The

next few hours was spent with us exchanging stories and just basking in the joy of

conversation. It had been so long since I had talked this normally with someone and had a

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conversation that didn’t mention illness or lead to a fight. I definitely hoped that this wouldn’t

be the last day like this either.

Late afternoon when it was beginning to get dark, with Rory’s help, I packed up my things

that I didn’t even end up using, and we walked back to my place. Luckily, Rory lived only a

few blocks away from my house, so walking home with me wasn’t an inconvenience for him.

Stopping at the front gate, he stayed for a few minutes and we started talking again, deciding to

meet up again next Sunday. Walking into the kitchen after Rory had left, I found a note left by

Mom.

Paige,

I have organized to run a late shift at work,

Will be home at 9 so cook yourself something for dinner.

Love, Mom xx

I found that note quite hilarious since my mom knew I couldn’t cook to save my life, and

failing Home Economics at school didn’t help. Toast was the only other option, as the

freezer didn’t contain any instant meals. Turning on the television, I sat down on the couch

with my freshly made (and 5th attempt of) toast, and flicked through the channels. Finally

finding something half decent, I settled down and let my brain turn off and, by the time

Mom came home, I was fast asleep; I couldn’t wait until next Sunday.

The concept of having an actual friend was quite exciting!

15

SUNDAY

Sleeping in until lunch was my tradition for Sunday mornings, followed by Mom’s

homemade waffles accompanied with maple syrup. I was just starting to shovel the golden

heavenliness into my mouth when the 20 questions started; how was your day in the park?

Why were you gone so long? Who was the boy at the front gate?

She had seen me talking to Rory? How could she have? She was at work.

“I thought you were at work when I got home…” I mumbled, looking down at my patterned

pajamas rather than her face.

I wasn’t surprised by her answer. “Mrs. Botany told me.”

Mrs. Botany was our neighbour who lived across the street, and she often spied on me. Even

with her poor eyesight and creaky old body, she was still very quick – to jump to conclusions

that is.

“He’s just a boy from school.” I said to answer her question.

That didn’t satisfy her.

“He looks quite old. Why was he hanging around with you at our house?”

I hesitated before I replied. My response had to be good. It couldn’t leave her asking more

questions.

“He’s a junior. He lives near here and was walking past and stopped to say hello; must have

recognized me from school.”

Finally she left me alone and went back to her office. Sometimes having a Mom and a sister

that are both nurses was nice because, except late at night and early in the morning, they were

never home. I am one of those people who would rather be left alone. Not left alone from

everyone, just family. They can get so suffocating sometimes. Having them away from home

gives me room to breathe.

The rest of my Sunday was spent watching movies and surfing the net. I went for a jog

around the block in the afternoon then retreated back to the warmness of our lounge room

where I dozed off on the couch, in the spot where Dad always sat. Since his first episode, his

worn and faded cushion on the couch had become a reoccurring place of comfort for me.

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It was last year in the summer. Everything was like normal; Jess and I playing in the park all

day, Mom and Dad relaxing on the bench watching. But that year Dad didn’t come to watch us

every day, only some. He told us it was because the pollen in the park was giving him severe

headaches so we all just passed it up as extreme hay fever, even though we knew he didn’t

have hay fever. It was only after he fainted one day that we started to sit up and take notice.

Mom got him booked in for an appointment the following week at the local hospital and he got

the all clear. Things went back to normal and the headaches weren’t so regular but the next

month, Dad got worse. Jess and I were getting worried; he had never gotten this sick before.

Because of this, Mom got him booked in to see a specialist whose practice was in the city

centre. The doctor there ran some tests, took some scans of his brain and drew some blood,

which took a long time. The results would take three weeks to arrive, the secretary said, so we

took him back home and waited, as nervous as ever.

When they finally arrived, we all sat down together in the doctor’s office and watched Mom

open the letter with shaking hands. When she looked up, she wasn’t smiling. I braced myself

for the worst and grasped Jess’s hand in mine. Dad had a brain tumor. I couldn’t believe it. We

were all numb as we sat there in silence. Mom took action first and soon the adults were

discussing if there were any treatments available. The doctor told us that there were several we

could try, but the chances that they would actually work were very slim.

Apparently we hadn’t discovered the tumor early enough. He gave him 8 months to live.

To this day, I still blame the first doctor at the local hospital who gave my dad the all clear.

I’d never told anybody about the tumor. I guess I hadn’t needed to. No one is interested in

your life these days; it was all about fashion, parties, money and possessions. Those material

people made me sick. I tried to mimic their pathetic complaints.

“My daddy wouldn’t buy me the really expensive dress I wanted last night. He obviously

doesn’t love me!”

My dad was dying of a brain tumor. Theirs wouldn’t buy them a dress. I know my dad

loved me with his whole heart. They base their fathers love on how much money he spends on

them. Selfish, selfish people!

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My dreams that night were strange. The one that disturbed me the most was one where my

mother had five other children all younger than me. She soon died after the last one was born

and Dad also died a couple of months later, leaving me to stay home from school and look after

all my siblings, sinking into a dark hole of depression. The dream seemed so real that I woke

with a start and, after coming back to reality, I calmed down, but it still took me hours to get

back to sleep. How would I cope, having to care for someone or something other than myself?

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MONDAY

Monday morning I didn’t go to school. I was tired and not in the mood for interaction with

people I didn’t like. Mom had left early that morning and Jess had spent the night at her

boyfriend’s place so, as long as the school didn’t ring their cells, I would be fine. As soon as I

knew I would get away with staying home I went back to bed. I reemerged sometime around

midday to get some lunch. As I couldn’t cook, or go outside for fear of Mrs. Botany seeing me,

I found some frozen pizzas in the freezer that I put in the oven. After finishing the pizza I spent

the afternoon on the couch watching the olden day movies.

Late in the afternoon I decided to get ready for my daily run when the phone rang. I picked

it up expecting it to be Mom or Jess. But unfortunately it was the school secretary. I sat down

at the kitchen table and, putting on a nasally voice, made up some story about me having a one

day cold and that I would be back at school the next day, which got me off the hook. At quarter

past 4 I finally left for my run. The track I followed wasn’t long but went around the block and

down near the park. As I was turning the corner to come back up my street, I saw something

lying on the ground. I slowly approached it and found it was a squirrel. Wondering why it was

just staying there I gradually reached down to touch it. The squirrel recoiled away from my

touch but, as it went to run away, it tumbled over back onto the ground. I went around to the

other side and saw that one of its legs was badly injured, knowing that it shouldn’t be bent the

way it was. I wondered if it was broken.

I thought for only a moment before I took off my coat and picked it up gently in the warm

material, then jogged back to the house, hugging the bundle close to my chest as I went. After

grabbing my wallet, I hopped on a bus that would take me to the nearest vet and got the little

guy checked out. The vet spent several minutes looking over him and concluded that he had a

broken leg, but nothing that was too serious. That was a relief. After bandaging the area tightly,

giving me the consultation bill and some care instructions, the vet disappeared into her office.

On the way home I decided I would have to keep the squirrel until his leg was fully healed.

A few people were giving me weird looks on the bus when they realized what I was holding,

but I didn’t care. At least I was taking the time to care for an animal that needed help, and it

wasn’t like I was going to walk to the vet’s.

19

When I got home, I found a large box in the back of my cupboard that I filled with cloth, a

small water container and some mixed nuts for the squirrel. It took me a while to get it to settle

down and stay in the box, especially since my touch scared it away, but eventually it rested. A

few minutes later Mom came home and I introduced her to my new little friend. She told me

that he had to stay in my room and, as soon as he was better, he had to leave. I agreed and spent

the rest of the night in my room eating Oreos that I had stolen again and blasting music from

my stereo. I had finally found my favourite album by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus that I had

lost a few weeks ago and put it on repeat, then laid on my bed singing all the words off by

heart. After the 2nd time through the album, I turned the volume down just a little bit, cuddled

up under the covers and slowly drifted off to sleep.

20

TUESDAY

I knew I had to go to school the next day, as I told the school secretary on the phone that my

cold was only a one day thing, and, honestly, ditching was something I didn’t usually want to

do. Sitting on the bus I hoped that the squirrel would be okay alone. I had put it in my

bathroom so it had more room but made sure it couldn’t get out. I glanced out the window to

look at the pedestrians walking past when I saw Rory up ahead. As a last minute decision, I

tapped the stop button above me and the bus pulled to a halt at the bus shelter in front. I

grabbed up my bag and got off the bus. Crossing the street, I looked for Rory. He was just a

few people in front of me, hands deep in his pockets and hair rustling gently in the morning

breeze. I caught up with him and said good morning. He turned to face me, his green eyes

bright, then wrote on his board.

“Why weren’t you at school yesterday? I was looking for you.” I read off the board, my

eyes following the loops of his o’s.

“I was pretty tired and didn’t feel like going to school, so I skipped.” I replied, trying to

keep my heartbeat steady when his words sunk in. Someone cared.

“Fair enough.” Was all he wrote in return, though I could see he didn’t believe me; a certain

expression painted on his face.

We walked the rest of the way to school without discussing anything else and I watched him

walk away as I walked into home group. The morning passed without anything eventful

happening and I was surprised when Rory joined me for lunch. No one had sat with me for

lunch in a long time and I wasn’t used to it. But it was only Rory, so I enjoyed the normal

silence between us as the usual buzz of the rest of the school grew louder in the background.

After my afternoon classes, I was walking out of the front office and heading towards the

bus when I saw him walking home. I wondered why he didn’t take the bus. It was quicker and

it went straight past his house. I casually started to follow him and when he saw me behind him

he slowed down so we were in line. It took nearly double the time to get home, but I enjoyed

the walk and, as I turned into our driveway, asked Rory if I could join him in the morning. He

agreed and then I walked into the house.

Once again Mrs. Botany had dobbed me in to Mom. So when she got home more questions

erupted about Rory. In my mind I laughed, surprised that she cared so much. I eventually told 21

her that he was a friend of mine and since he didn’t know many people at school, I decided to

walk home with him so he wasn’t lonely. She wasn’t too keen on the idea of me hanging

around a guy two years older than me but she seemed to realize that I actually had a friend now

so she let the issue go for the night.

After finishing the talk with Mom I remembered about the squirrel! I raced up to my

bathroom and when I opened the door I found the little guy on top of the shower staring at me

with wide eyes. I had obviously scared him and he scurried -half limping- into his box. I gave

him some fresh water and more food then went out of the room and shut the door. Mom called

me down for dinner and while we ate I asked her about her day. After helping with the dishes I

went into my room and got out my homework.

Dreaming that night I finally saw who was sitting with my dad in the hospital. At first all I

could see were two figures, but then they became clearer and it was my dad and who I thought

was me sitting in the chair in the corner, but as the person became in focus perfectly I straight

away could tell it was him. It was Rory. Why was Rory sitting with MY dad? I had heard that

dreams were strange but I didn’t get this at all. The mystery in my dream was solved, but

another one had surfaced.

22

WEDNESDAY

Realizing that I needed to get up earlier I changed my alarm the night before and, when it

rang at 6:50am that morning, I instantly regretted organizing the walk with Rory. Not only

would it be freezing outside, but it would be dark and I would still be half asleep! After a few

minutes I decided I couldn’t stand Rory up so I got up and had a warm shower before making

my way downstairs for a quick breakfast. Instead of attempting to cook something, I put the

coffee machine on and was out the door with coffee in a takeaway cup within five minutes.

I only had to wait a few minutes until I saw those orange shoes turn onto my street. I walked

up to him and said hello, wrapping my coat more tightly around myself. I got a small nod in

return and we started off down the road. Halfway to school I started telling Rory all about the

injured squirrel that I had rescued and, after sharing the “I found him on top of the shower”

incident, he couldn’t remove the smile from his face. I suddenly didn’t regret coming on this

walk anymore.

As we walked into the school grounds a small wave to each other was all that was needed as

we went our separate ways. Entering the first lesson I remembered the movie we were

watching, some 100 year old film that we were to study in English. I slowly sat down on a seat

in the back row and waited for the boredom to set in. Emerging from the classroom after the

double lesson, I stretched and walked down to my locker. As I grabbed my money for the

canteen I yawned and then shut my locker, eager to get some food and find Rory.

I saw the line as soon as I came into the cafeteria. It was extra-long today and I wasn’t

happy. Walking over to join the line I saw Rory further up in the queue. After several minutes

of me staring at him he eventually turned to face me, then raised his hand and beckoned me to

come over to him. Reluctant to lose my spot in the line I hesitated but still walked to him.

When I reached him he stood back, leaving a gap in the line for me. I smiled at him and took

my new place. I waited for him to retrieve his food then we walked over to an empty table.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with quizzes I wasn’t ready for and reading books that I

had no interest in. The bell rang for the end of the day and I gathered my things from my

locker. Out the front of the school I looked around for Rory, but I couldn’t see him. I waited for

a few minutes and the bus left, meaning I had to walk home by myself. Deflated by his no

23

show I didn’t particularly want to walk home and my mood turned even sourer when it started

to snow three blocks from home.

After arriving home I shrugged off my coat, shivered and walked into the kitchen. Mom was

in the lounge room watching a movie and I could hear Jess’s stereo playing from upstairs. I

didn’t want to talk to them and I didn’t want to bother them either so I turned around, grabbed

my wallet off the hallway table, picked up my coat again and walked out the door.

I jogged to the bus shelter and caught the bus just in time. I sat looking out the window until

the bus pulled up in front of the hospital. I hopped off the bus and went inside. Glad by the

warmth that greeted me, I took off my coat and went to ask if it was okay for me to visit Dad.

The receptionist told me I could go see him for half an hour. I thanked her and went to the

elevators.

Finally when I got to his room I knocked and waited for a reply. He summoned me in and

smiled when he saw it was me.

“Paige!” he exclaimed.

“Hey, Dad.” I replied, concerned about the weakness of his voice.

“So what brings you here on this cold day? Everything okay at home?” asked Dad.

Of course everything was okay. “Everything’s fine, Dad,” I explained, “I just haven’t seen

you in a while, that’s all.”

“Well, that’s good then,” He said, smiling.

Since he was in the bed I dragged the chair from the corner and put it next to his side. He

looked at me and asked about my week so far. Glad for a topic to talk about, I happily sat there

and told him everything that had happened: About school; Sasha’s party; the squirrel; my day

at the park; I also told him about Rory. Dad just sat there and listened while I talked and talked,

smiling and nodding at the good parts and offering sympathy and advice at the hard parts. It

was almost like old times. Almost.

After three quarters of an hour had gone by a nurse came in and told me visiting hours were

over. Dad could tell I was disappointed by the fact that I had to go so soon so he reassured me

that he was up for another visit on Friday, two days away. I said goodbye, hugged him and left

the room with the nurse, then made my way down to the entrance of the hospital to hop back

on the bus to go back home.

By the time I got home I could see through the front window that Mom and Jess had started

dinner early and were sitting at the table eating. I walked in, grabbed a plate and served myself

some dinner. As I sat down both of them stopped talking and we finished the rest of the meal in

silence.

24

Jess helped wash up that night so I went up and fed the squirrel. I really needed to give it a

name, poor thing. After putting the mixed nuts back in the pantry, I was about to climb back up

the stairs when Jess called my name. I stopped and waited as she walked up to me.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

“Umm, I guess?” I replied, intrigued that she actually wanted to talk to me.

I led the way up the stairs then she guided me into her room. I hadn’t been in her room for

about two years since we rarely chatted to each other anymore. As I entered, the first thing I

noticed was the strong smell of a very sweet perfume. I quite liked it. Her walls were the same

coral shade as mine but had multiple frames hanging on them. The pictures were of her and

Liam –the boyfriend- and pictures of sunsets and other scenic things. Her quilt was a deep

purple.

We sat down on the edge of her bed and Jess was the first to speak. “Take me and Mom

next time you visit him.” She was obviously talking about Dad.

“Why? It’s not like I know when I’m going to visit him; they have been spontaneous visits

so far,” I argued, even though this wasn’t completely true. I had promised to see him on Friday.

“Well, if you do decide to visit, ring me up. I would love to see him,” she replied.

“You work at the hospital!” I exclaimed. “You can see him every day.”

Her answer surprised me. “I never get to see him; I only work on the 2nd floor.”

I mumbled that I would think about it then stomped out of the room. I went straight to sleep,

not wanting to think how bad my day had turned out after being so good that morning.

25

THURSDAY

I didn’t bother setting my alarm the night before because I had no intention on walking to

school in the freezing cold, not knowing if Rory would show up or not. I got up at my usual

time and had toast for breakfast before wandering down to the bus shelter. Getting off at school

I saw Rory coming up the street just before I walked into the corridor. Deciding to get to home

group quickly, I managed to avoid seeing him before lunch.

He walked towards my table as soon as he entered the cafeteria and sat down. I watched as

he wrote as much as the board would let him then held the board out to me.

“I guess you’re angry at me for not showing up for the walk yesterday. I’m sorry I wasn’t

there. I left early in the afternoon because of family reasons. I’ll tell you when I’m going to be

away next time.”

I accepted his apology and promised I would walk with him that afternoon. I still didn’t buy

the “family reasons” but, as usual, I didn’t say anything about it because I didn’t want to

intrude on anything.

That afternoon I kept my promise and walked home with Rory, though neither of us made

any attempt to start a conversation. Coming towards the park I turned to my left and started

down the park bike track. Rory started to follow but I turned and shook my head. I didn’t want

company. We went our separate ways and I spent the rest of that late afternoon sitting on a

bench, just taking in the view.

I knew I had to fix this minor problem with Rory. We were going to be spending tomorrow

with each other at school, and then again on Sunday, and I didn’t want all of those experiences

to be full of awkwardness. Getting home early I heated up some leftovers for dinner and ate in

my room. I noticed that the squirrel was quickly recovering, and that I probably could let it go

that Sunday in the park. I checked my emails, searched the weather forecast for that weekend

then turned my light off at 10, but sleep didn’t come until many hours later.

26

FRIDAY

Joining Rory on his walk that morning had turned out to be a very good decision. I had

walked out the door still feeling nervous about being with him for the long trip to school. When

I saw him leaning on my gate there was a smile on his face as if he was happy to see me, and I

couldn’t help giving him a small smile in return. It was another silent walk but it wasn’t

awkward as we were both happy in each other’s company. Every few minutes we would turn

our heads and both give a smile.

Walking past one of the bus stops, a large bus rushed past and, as it did, it showered me with

a heap of icy cold slush. I screamed in shock then, after a few seconds, realized how cold I now

was. Sitting down on a nearby bench I removed my jacket and contemplated walking the rest

of the way without it on. Just as I was about to get up Rory sat down next to me and removed

his jacket too and I watched as he turned and put it in my lap.

“I can’t wear your jacket.” I said. “You will freeze!” I added quickly.

“So will you. Just take the jacket,” He wrote back. “I’ll be fine until we get to school.”

Unwillingly I gave in and pulled on his jacket. It was still warm from him, and it smelled

nice. Getting up I smiled at him, moved by the gesture of the jacket. On the rest of the way to

school we walked faster than before so that Rory didn’t have to face too much of the harsh

wind that was arriving. As soon as we walked into the school corridor I wriggled out of the

oversize jacket and gave it back to him and said thanks. He smiled, waved then turned and

walked towards his classroom.

As usual, my classes were boring yet very challenging but my breaks were spent with Rory,

which I found fun. I found Rory outside the school gates that afternoon waiting for me. As I

caught up to him, he turned to start walking. I saw that the sky was quite dark and it was

probably going to snow quite heavily soon so I grabbed Rory’s arm.

“Look, a storm isn’t too far off; you won’t make it home in time if you walk. Want to catch

the bus?” I asked.

He looked up, then nodded in agreement. I hopped on the bus first and grabbed the last

double seat that was free. He slowly walked up behind me and slid into the seat next to me. We

both spent the trip looking out the window. A few kids behind us pointed out that they hadn’t

seen Rory on the bus before and noticed his shoes. A few rude remarks got passed around and I 27

looked at his face to see his reaction. It remained the same content expression as always so,

soon after, the boys gave up and put in their earphones again.

Getting off at my stop I found it strange to be getting home so early. I saw that Rory, too,

was feeling at a loose end. Usually we wouldn’t get to this stop for another 40-50 minutes

when we walked. Approaching my house, I suddenly stopped. Rory stopped too and looked at

me questionably.

“Would you like to come inside?” I asked bravely, nervous for his answer.

“Sure, I guess” He agreed.

This was the first time I had ever had someone other than family inside my house. Rory

walked in slowly and took in my kitchen and lounge room. I offered him a drink and got him a

glass of water. After a few minutes, he finished his drink and we sat down on the couch. We

chatted for a bit then, after looking at the clock, he had to go. I walked him to the gate and

waved goodbye. As I shut the door, I noticed Mrs. Botany’s car was gone, meaning that she

wasn’t home so she couldn’t blab to Mom about Rory coming inside. YES! I walked into the

kitchen and started getting some dinner out of the freezer, finally completely happy with all the

things that had occurred that day.

Mom and Jess got home just as I was serving up the microwave dishes that I had thawed

out. I ate and listened as they both talked about their days. Sometimes I didn’t mind hearing

about what they did during the day when I was in a good mood. I helped with the dishes

without complaint, then went up to the bathroom to have my first bubble bath in a long time;

the perfect ending to a perfect day. It wasn’t until morning that I realized what I had forgotten.

That night the only dream I had was a short snippet of the little girl I saw in the wheelchair

at the hospital. I didn’t understand why she was in my dream, but she was sitting next to her

mom and she was smiling.

28

SATURDAY

What I’d forgotten didn’t dawn on me until I opened the kitchen cupboard looking for the

Pop Tart packet when I saw a container on the top shelf. I reached up on my tippy toes and

grabbed it, then realized what it was.

“Ooooh no. No, no, no, no!”

The bottle was one of Dad’s old medicine containers, and I was meant to visit him

yesterday!

I leant against the kitchen bench and sank to the floor, putting my head in my hands. I had

never forgotten to go see him. NEVER! I sat there for ages not caring about the time, or the

fact I was starving. I finally started to rise up as I looked at the clock. It was 11am, which

meant Dad would be in the middle of having his treatment. But if I had my breakfast and got

ready within the next half hour I would be able to get the hospital just after he finished.

Now energized, I put some Pop Tarts in the toaster and ran upstairs to get dressed. I almost

forgot to chuck some food to the squirrel. Coming down the stairs a few minutes later in jeans

and a sweater, I grabbed my Pop Tarts and ate them while I tried to tie up my shoe laces. I then

rushed to the bathroom to clean my teeth. Eventually finished with my teeth, I grabbed the

essentials that I needed from the bowl on the hallway table and put my hair in a messy bun

before slamming the door shut and running to the bus stop.

I made it on the bus just in time and sat in the closest seat I saw, trying to catch my breath.

As the bus started rolling again I sat and looked out the window, hoping my dad would forgive

me for forgetting. My head filled with even more worry every mile we got closer to the

hospital and, by the time we pulled up in front of the huge glass doors, it took all my strength

to get off the bus and not go back home.

Coming up to Dad’s room I could hear the TV on. At the door I knocked lightly and waited

for an answer.

“Come in, Paige” Dad said softly.

I walked into the room, “How did you know it was me?”

“I figured since you didn’t come yesterday, you would come as soon as you could today to

make up for it,” he said. “And besides, who else would come to see me?”

29

I had forgotten how well my dad knew me. I smiled back, all the previous worry and dread

gone.

“So what have I missed in the past three days?” prodded Dad, trying to start the

conversation.

“Well…” I said, then continued to recount the past days, but the main topic that had Dad

interested was the dreams. I was so glad to finally have someone to share the dreams with! I

wasn’t yet ready to share them with Rory, and Jess and Mom had their own lives to worry

about.

After a few hours I went downstairs to the small food court and bought myself some lunch

then returned to Dad’s room, where I ate and he told me about his days in the hospital and

some of the other patients he had befriended. We didn’t talk about Mom much, not that I didn’t

want to but there wasn’t much to tell. Dad seemed to understand and was happy enough to

ignore that fact.

As I glanced out the window, I saw a bundle of angry grey clouds closing in on the city.

Knowing this meant a storm was approaching, I quickly wrapped up the conversation so I

could get home before it hit. Agreeing that this was a good idea, Dad hugged me and said

goodbye. We didn’t make any more promises about meeting up again, which made things a lot

easier for the both of us and I left the room with just one more little wave towards Dad.

It was nearly 5:30 by the time I reached the front gate and was glad that I had made it home

before the storm had hit, and for the sudden wave of warmth that came over me when I entered

the house. Noticing that, once again, no one else was inside, I knew I would soon have to find

my own tea. But first I had my Science, Math and English homework to do. The thought of

homework deflated my good mood just a little, but with my music going and occasional

internet breaks, I had it all finished in under two hours. Now realizing I was getting hungry, I

turned everything off and went downstairs.

After a while of searching I found nothing substantial to eat in the cupboards or fridge so,

looking out the window to see that the storm was now well over, I once again donned my

jacket and shoes and, with my wallet, I walked outside and turned the opposite way to the park

and headed down the street.

Approaching a tiny cluster of stores, I slowed down and surveyed the area: picnic tables full

of young families laughing and talking to my right; a group of kids around my age huddled

around the front window of the surf shop a few meters away; university students tapping away

on laptops at the tables under the restaurant patios and a few stray pedestrians eating out or

30

strolling in and out of the boutiques on my left. Twinkling lights hung from the trees that lined

the street and the atmosphere felt great.

I continued to walk closer until I turned into a small Chinese restaurant. I ordered a stir fry

and chose a table out the front of the shop to sit at. The food was delicious and the heat of it

warmed my insides, taking the shivers of the cold air away. After finishing, I moved to a bench

along the sidewalk. Just sitting there watching the other people, I remembered the first time I

came here.

I was five at the time. Mom and Jess were out for the night at one of Jess’s many dance

recitals and Dad and I were at home. I was starving and Dad didn’t know what to make me. He

settled for spaghetti but I didn’t want it, he tried to make me eat it but I just threw it on the

floor. Staring at the mess on the floor Dad grabbed my arm, walked into the hallway and threw

my jumper over my head. Confused, I put my jumper on and followed him as he went out the

door. We were silent as we walked down the dark street and I didn’t know if he was angry at

me or not. Then, just ahead, I saw tiny specks of light; little dots all huddled together.

Intrigued, I walked faster, pulling on Dad’s hand.

Finally we were close enough and I could see that the mysterious lights were in the trees, all

strung together. I turned to Dad and smiled; he grinned back and swooped down to pick me and

put me on his back. I was so high up that I could touch the twinkling lights and I felt like I was

touching the stars. He finally let me down and, hand-in-hand, we found an ice-cream parlor and

ordered my favourite dessert, double choc, banana, cherry and whipped cream sundae, eating

all of it in a matter of minutes.

The next hour was spent running around in the park and looking at all the shops. The shop

that I liked the most though was the one that sold dolls. It had dozens of dolls in all different

styles from all different countries. Wooden, glass, porcelain and rag dolls filled every inch of

the boutique. I had just turned into one isle when I saw it: a tiny doll that would fit in the palm

of your hand. It was wearing a beautiful purple dress and had the reddest lips I had ever seen. I

felt Dad standing behind me.

“Do you want the doll, Honey?” he asked, looking down at me.

“No, not really,” I lied. I really wanted the doll.

“Oh. Okay then,” replied Dad, amusement in his voice.

31

Skipping away, I went and explored the other dolls in the next aisle then, after a while, I

heard Dad calling me. I quickly found my way back to the entrance of the shop and found him

holding something. He held the small paper bag out to me and I took it. I peered inside and

beamed. It was the doll with the purple dress.

Once again hand-in-hand, we waltzed out the door and down the street, heading for home.

We got back quite late so I placed my new doll onto my bedside table and hopped into bed

hurriedly and started to drift off to sleep. But not soon enough as I heard the muffled shouts of

Mom and Dad.

“You shouldn’t have taken her out so late!”

“Why not?” Dad questioned, “She was perfectly safe with me!”

“It's just that…” I heard Mom start, but she dropped her voice and I couldn’t make out what

she said. I looked over at the doll, gave a tiny smile and drifted to sleep.

Getting up off of the ground I brushed the dirt from my pants and stretched. Looking at my

watch then the sky I decided I had better get back before it got too late and before the snow

came again, so, slowly I walked back down the street towards home.

Just as I stepped inside I saw the first few specks of snow start to fall and I shivered as I

quickly shut the door. I knew that Mom would be asleep so I tiptoed upstairs and headed for

my room. After a hot shower I put on my fluffy cupcake patterned pajamas, fed the squirrel

then wrapped myself up in my blankets and started to fall asleep. But just before I fell into

unconsciousness I blinked open my eyes, rushed out of bed and into my closet where, right at

the back, I found the purple dressed doll. Dusting it off and sitting it onto my bedside table as I

had done all those years ago I finally slept. No dreams came that night.

32

SUNDAY

I woke up late that morning; I guess that forgetting to set my alarm wasn’t such a good idea.

I sprang out of bed and stumbled downstairs to gather together the various items I needed for

the day. Quarter of an hour later I was headed out the front door carrying a bulging tote bag on

one shoulder and a small cat carrier -which I borrowed from my year old Persian, Woogey-

that encased my squirrel in the other hand. Even though I knew that I was probably late I still

took my time in getting to the park, gazing at the houses opposite to me as I was walking past

them.

I knew that I didn’t live in one of the “rich” suburbs in the city but as I saw the array of two

-story homes that I passed, I could have sworn my neighbors were the lawyers or doctors who

had money to flaunt and were found in the mansions on the other side of the river. Realizing

this, it surprised me how much I didn’t take notice of in my own street.

But turning my attention gradually back to the path I was on I could now see that the park

was just up ahead.

Rory was sitting on one of the old, rusty benches when I approached him. He smiled as he

looked up at me then he stood up, motioning his hand toward the picnic tables next to the

benches. Walking up, I saw that he had laid out a tablecloth and piles of different colored paper

and assorted stationary across the table; there was even little pots of glitter. My mind raced

through the possible reasons why he had done all this but I could not come to a conclusion. I

turned and faced him.

“What’s all this for Rory? Are we making birthday cards for someone or something?” I said

jokingly.

He gave me a serious look.

“It’s for your dad, Paige. And Bianca,” he replied.

I stared at him, trying to understand what he meant.

“Bianca? Is that your sister?”

He nodded.

“So we are making them get well cards? But you never told me your sister was sick…”

33

I trailed off and waited for an answer but he just sat down at the picnic table and started to

assemble his pieces of paper. Silently I sat down next to him and did the same, secretly glad he

had thought of such a thing. It was the most marvelous idea I had heard of, yet so simple.

We finally decided to take a break for lunch after a while and I had time to take a peek at

our handiwork. Rory’s card was a simple one, light purple paper with a teddy on the front, and

mine, a dark blue card, had a cut-out of a boat on it.

Thanks to Rory, our lunch was homemade ham and cheese sandwiches and choc chip

cookies, which were so good! Then after my suggestion we went for a walk to release the

squirrel. Finding a shady spot under a big oak tree, I unlatched the cage door and watched the

little creature scurry up as fast as it could and swiftly disappear behind the huge, heart shaped

leaves.

As we started back to the table, I started thinking about Bianca, Rory’s sister. I knew

nothing about her, except that I now knew that she was sick. Could that be the reason why he

was constantly at the hospital? Visiting her?

The courage that I had been wishing for arrived as we sat back down at the table.

“Rory, what’s wrong with your sister?” I asked in a small voice, looking him in the eyes.

It took him a few moments of hesitation before the writing appeared on the little chalkboard.

And all it took was one word:

“Leukemia”

My words, I knew, couldn’t comfort him, so not saying anything I stood up, went beside

him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He didn’t cry or move away. Instead, he held

my arms as we embraced and I knew I had done the right thing.

By the time the sun started sinking and the dark hues of the night arrived, we had made a

bunch of cards each and had cleared the table, ready to leave. Slowly we strolled up the hill

towards the street and were greeted by a gust of wind that chilled me to the bone. I wrapped my

thick scarf tighter around my neck as we continued and gradually came in sight of my house.

But, instead of turning down into the driveway, I pushed Rory forward and we kept walking.

After giving me a quizzical expression I explained that I wanted to make sure he got home

okay. He just nodded and we kept going until we stopped in front of an old brick house a few

minutes later. He turned to me as we reached the door;

“Thanks for a great day, Paige. I had fun.”

I smiled.

“I’m glad. Thanks, too, for the card idea, I mean. It was brilliant,” I responded.

34

He smiled, waved and went inside. Waiting until he had softly shut the door behind him, I

turned my back and ventured home.

All was still in the house as I slipped silently through the front door. In the pitch black, my

fingers fumbled across the wall in search of the light switch and I sighed with relief as the

bulbs finally flickered on, illuminating the surroundings.

My light footsteps on the large wooden staircase were the only sounds that followed as I

slowly crept upstairs and into the bathroom. After emerging several minutes later, I found the

house still eerily quiet and I was very puzzled about the whereabouts of Mom and Jess.

Tossing and turning throughout the night, it took ages for me to eventually settle enough to

enter the world of limbo where my old dreams surprised me, coming back after many nights of

no recurrence.

Tonight I was in the hospital watching from afar as Rory comforted a lady; presumably his

mother, as they shared many similar features. Then it cut to the small girl from the hospital

playing on an old swing set with Rory behind her, pushing the swing higher and higher. That’s

when it all fell into place.

35

MONDAY

It wasn’t until I was squashed up against the window of the school bus, next to a tall and

quite loud stranger, that I got time to really process what I might have discovered through my

dreams. I obviously didn’t know the full story, but I knew one hundred percent in my heart that

the young girl from the hospital was Bianca, Rory’s sister.

It all fit; the many unmentioned trips to the hospital he took, the uncanny resemblance

between the girl, the mother and Rory, the appearances in my dreams, the unknown ill sister I

had never seen… it had to be his sister. Any other answer was just not feasible.

Overwhelmed, I decided to distract my mind with other things for a while, so I shifted my

head slightly to the right to refocus on the boy seated next to me. Since the last time I had

looked at him, he now had a pair of headphones lodged over his ears and was staring straight

ahead down the bus aisle. Now that he had stopped talking so loudly to his friends -who were

seated a few rows in front of him- I didn’t mind being in the same row as him, as long as it

stayed that way. Rummaging through my classes in my head, I finally placed the boy as a

member of my history class. His name was Aidan? Hayden? But before I could properly put a

name to his face, we abruptly came to a halt in front of the school and all the students on the

bus began spewing out onto the footpath. Waiting until everyone else had gotten off – to avoid

getting possibly trampled - I swung my bag heavily over my shoulder and ambled off to first

period, watching Aidan (or Hayden?) walk behind a classroom and out of sight.

Throughout the morning double I couldn’t focus at all, my eyes continuously darting around

the room in search of the clock. Each time I found that small circular timekeeper, I counted

down the minutes until the first break. When the bell eventually echoed off the walls, bringing

the students back to life, I hurriedly scooped up my textbooks and made my way out the door.

Searching over the heads that filled the cafeteria, it took me little more than a dozen seconds

to locate that one head I knew so well. Rory was sitting up the back alone at a small table, and

as I sat down, his eyes glanced over my face and he broke out into a smile.

“Hey, Paige,” the chalkboard read.

“Hey, Rory,” I greeted him back.

As we ate in silence, I surveyed the rest of the students of Brighton High and the cliques

they had created: The middle two tables were filled with the few selected ‘A-class’ kids, the 36

ones whose parents had the most money and the ones who had the fancy luxuries. They all had

perfectly done hair, label clothing, glowing skin and brand new cars. The center of the clique

was Monique, Sasha Lockwood’s older sister. The four surrounding tables were the ‘B’s’ as

they were just a step down from the mighty ‘A’s’. Then the rest of the student body was sorted

into tables according to their stereotypes. Jocks, nerds, goths, the freshman and all other typical

cliques were allocated to their specific tables for the year, awaiting the new selections from

next year’s ‘A’s’. Then there were the outcasts. Kids like Rory and I who didn’t fit into any

stereotype got the three spare tables right at the back of the cafeteria.

Realizing the cruelty of Brighton High’s hierarchy system that I had overlooked so many

times before, I hesitantly tuned into Rory once again, not wanting to think of it any longer. It

was time to finally share my dreams with him, but did I have enough time? Glancing at the

numbers that lit up at my touch of my finger on my phone screen, I knew we didn’t have long

until the next lessons started so I just waited. Waited until that final chime had rung around me

and I could meet him once again outside the front gates of the school. It wasn’t until we were a

third of the way home when I brought it all up to him. Surprisingly, he didn’t look that shocked

or scared, just nodded and listened patiently and when I finished speaking, turned to me and

held up the board.

“Why did you just tell me all that, Paige?”

Confused, I replied honestly. “Because I trust you, and I thought that if you and your sister

were in my dreams you would want to hear…” I trailed off, embarrassed.

“No, no, I didn’t mean that it’s a bad thing that you told me,” his eyes softened as he looked

at me. Then he continued to write, “I just didn’t think you would tell me, but thanks.”

I smiled; it wasn’t the reaction I had expected, but it was a better one.

“So, what do you think?” I pushed.

“Think about what?” he replied, obviously not following.

Looking at my feet I laughed to myself, “you reckon that I’m insane yet? Having all these

crazy dreams about a girl I haven’t even met? And you with my dad, who you haven’t met

either?”

Rory looked around and settled his gaze on a street sign, noticing that we were almost to my

street, and then he continued to observe the few people who walked by.

“Paige, your dreams aren’t crazy,” he started, still not facing me. “You haven’t met my

sister but you have seen her. Like you said before, she was at the hospital. And you know both

me and your father, obviously, so it’s not uncommon for us all to be put into your dreams

37

together.” With a small smile he added, “It just means you care about us, but your brain

decided to put us with different people for once.”

His interpretation of my dreams, too, made me smile, and set out in words like his, it made

them less daunting to me and somehow they made more sense, easier to comprehend.

Stopping, I waited for Rory to as well and, when he did, I rushed toward him and hugged him

before he even had time to raise his chalkboard. Confused, he hesitated for several seconds but

then gradually wrapped his long arms around me. Burying my head into his broad shoulders, I

mumbled a thank you into his coat and felt his head nod in return. We stood there a few more

seconds before we broke apart. Realizing how comfortable and effortless that had been for me,

I turned to him and wondered how he felt about it. Feeling my gaze, he turned and smiled at

me, filling me with reassurance and we continued walking; now seeing my house halfway

down the road.

Arriving home I saw that, as usual, no one was home so, not bothering to turn any lights, on

I slowly trudged up the stairs, peeling off my coat and scarf as I did. Letting my bag sag off my

shoulder and slump to the floor of my room, I flopped onto my bed and sighed. Though I

hadn’t physically done much that day, the strain of my earlier anxiety had left me drained and

tired. Not feeling any strings of hunger or thirst, I happily donned my pajamas and retreated

back to the comfort of my bed. A feeling of contentment washed over me as I started drifting

off to sleep, relieved to have had confided in Rory that afternoon and also in the fact that he

had taken it all so well. Again, no dreams came.

38

TUESDAY

It was Rory who had the great idea. I mean we were going to do it eventually but when he

approached me that morning as soon as I stepped off the bus and told me what he thought we

should do that afternoon, I knew he was right. It was the perfect opportunity for us to go to the

hospital and give Dad and Bianca our get well cards. During the first break we planned what

we would do after school that day. We would walk to the hospital together and go up to see my

dad first then down again to Bianca’s room.

We trudged along the hallways. I was in front leading as I was the one who knew the way to

room 162. Patting my pockets, I checked to see if I had my phone. There was nothing there.

Turning around I asked Rory for the time, making sure my dad wouldn’t be in having treatment

by the time we found our way. The door was open when we arrived but I reached out to knock

anyway. My knuckles brushed against the wood of the door only slightly but the noise echoed

loudly against the walls, shattering the silence of the hospital.

“Come in,” came a low voice, confusion thick in their tone.

Stepping inside I didn’t need to motion for Rory to stay, as he knew not to follow me in yet

and just lingered outside of the doorway.

The confusion my father had first expressed fell away as my face appeared in his line of

sight.

“Paige! You know I hate surprises.” He chuckled softly.

Smiling, I stayed where I was.

“Hey, Dad. I know but today is a special visit,” I said, adding to the suspense of my already

unannounced drop in. He gave me a questioning look but didn’t say anymore, waiting for me to

continue.

I looked over at Rory and tipped my head downward, using minimal movement, nothing

else was needed, he understood. Eyes on me the whole time he gradually made his way to my

side, his face expressionless. I could almost feel my dad hold in his breath as this stranger now

stood at the foot of his bed.

“This… this is Rory, Dad.”

It seemed like forever until someone spoke, and it surprised me that Rory made the first

action. Stepping closer to the right side of the bed until he was barely a meter away from my 39

father, he stuck out his hand. Hesitating first, Dad cautiously returned the action and they

shook hands.

A small smile appeared on my face, they were bonding.

“Rory! It’s great to finally meet you,” Dad said, appearing more relaxed. “I’ve heard a fair

bit about you.”

Rory glanced towards me and smirked as he saw me blush a deep pink, then turned back to

reply. Even while sitting in a hospital my dad still had time to embarrass me, but even still I

walked over and sat on the other side of the bed, listening as they talked.

Fumbling around in the middle pocket of my school bag I tried to locate my little water

bottle that was usually kept there. My hand didn’t latch onto what I was expecting. Instead, I

pulled out the cards that I had made with Rory on Sunday. Putting them in front of Dad, he

gingerly picked them up and read them. It was obvious he liked them. Placing them on his

bedside table, he gestured for me to come to him. Stepping into his embrace, I saw out of the

corner of my eye Rory walking out the door. Closing my eyes I savored the hug then let go.

Saying a few more words I, too, picked up my things and left the room.

He was waiting for me, leaning against the wall opposite to the room. His hands were in his

pockets and head hanging down, as if in deep thought. Hearing me approach, his eyes shifted

up until they rested on mine. He stopped leaning and joined me in the middle of the hallway

and, even though I had thought he was upset, there was a small smile on Rory’s lips,

contradicting my assumption.

Tilting my head in question, he just shrugged and started to lead me down the end of the

hallway, to the elevator. The typical awkward silence that accompanied the trip down three

levels wasn’t present, both of us used to no words being said. The only noise heard was the

hum as we moved down and my sigh of tiredness as the doors slid open on level 2.

Counting the small chrome numbers that hung on the white doors as we continued, I noticed

how lifeless hospitals were. For a place that was meant to be a welcoming atmosphere, open

for anyone who was seeking refuge, it portrayed the opposite: No color was present throughout

the building, not even pictures hung on the walls. The only hint of life was the bunch of

flowers that sat in the small vase on the receptionist’s desk. No wonder people hated it here,

and no wonder I never felt comfortable inside its walls.

The first thing I noticed when Rory knocked and opened the door to the room was the view

outside of the big glass window that was opposite my position just outside of the doorway.

Since the room was located on the north side of the hospital it was facing in the opposite

direction to Dad’s room, in line with the inner city ahead. Murmurs floated towards me, then

40

the mention of my name. Taking that as my cue, I poked my head around the corner and smiled

at the two people smiling back at me.

Even though Bianca had no hair, it was not the first thing that caught my attention as soon

as my eyes focused on her soft seven year old face. It was the same shimmering emerald green

that flickered in her eyes, just like her elder brother’s, telling me that, even if I hadn’t already

known they were siblings, she was indeed Rory’s sister. They were like a pair of gems in

comparison to her pale face and it made her look even more fragile. Pulling a chair over for

me, Rory, for the first time, looked very nervous, his eyes darting between his sister and I, his

thumbs continuously wrestling each other as he tried to keep his hands folded. As I placed my

bag on the floor and sat down, I tried finding the right words to say.

“Bianca, I’ve been dying to meet you.”

Oops.

Straight away I heard Rory’s breath catch in his throat and he started to cough. Glancing at

him I saw that he was already looking at me while trying to control himself again, waiting to

see how I would recover from my mistake. Turning in my chair to face Bianca directly, my

mouth opened to stutter out an apology.

“I am so…” I began, but trailed off as Bianca’s giggling cut me off.

“You look so scared! I am not going to bite you” she teased in her high pitched child’s

voice, obviously enjoying the impact she realized she had on me.

“Let me start? You are very pretty, Paige. It’s great to meet you! Having visitors always

makes me happy, especially when they are friends of my big brother’s!”

Laughing, I smiled at this brilliant little girl. She was beaming and so happy. Her boldness

and bluntness came as such a shock. Why was it that those who had so much to lose were

happier than the rest of us?

“Thanks Bianca, but I must say that it’s you that has the most beautiful eyes! And I am very

glad that your brother invited me to meet you,” I said whilst shyly peeking at Rory.

Now acquainted with each other, Bianca felt free to babble on to her new friend, which I

didn’t mind at all as I pulled my chair closer to her bed, enticed by her stories. In fact, I was so

focused on listening about wheelchair races, teddies and free cartoons that I didn’t even register

that Rory had left the room and then returned with a set of foam cups in hand.

Passing me one, I could now feel the warmth and smell of the coffee that it contained.

Grateful for the gesture, I sipped it slowly, warming my belly. As I drank, Bianca and Rory

started talking and laughing and I enjoyed sitting back and taking in their interaction, noticing

for the first time that Rory was able to laugh even though he couldn’t speak. I also noticed, for

41

the dozenth time, the speed in which Rory wrote on his little board. Finally, after we both had

finished our drinks, Rory produced his cards he had made, which I had completely forgotten

about. Bianca shrieked with glee as she gripped the cardboard tightly in her small hands.

“Rory, it’s super great! Thank you! Thank you, Big Brother! My favorite color and, Paige,

look! The teddy! It looks just like the one Dad sent me! Ted!” She reached out for Rory and he

laughed, leaning down into her embrace to hug her back.

Feeling the need to look away to give them the moment for just themselves, I stood up and

moved toward the window and gazed out. As the sun was making way for the night sky, the

many twinkling lights that filled the city’s streets started to blink on and, soon, the whole

metropolis was alive again; a whole ocean of rainbow lights stretched out before me. This

signalized that it was later than I had realized. I knew we would have to go soon.

As if thinking the same thing, Rory and I both searched for, and then read, the clock that

hung above the door frame at the same time. He nodded at me. Yes, it was definitely time to

go.

I went and said goodbye to Bianca. Mmy heart started to beat faster as she reached up for a

hug. My arms reached down and circled around her waist, enclosing her completely. So small,

so precious, I was trying not to cry. Rory gave his sister another hug and, with that, we were

outside and heading downstairs again.

“Are you okay?” was all that was written on his chalkboard.

“She has so much spirit in her, Rory. So much joy. Yet it is so sad.” I looked down at my

scruffy old shoes, my breathing was getting heavy.

“It will be fine, Paige You will see. She is a fighter. I have faith in her.”

“So do I,” I replied, even though I couldn’t meet his eyes.

Filing the board away in his shoulder bag, Rory reached out and took my hand, gingerly

entwining our fingers together. It had been a big day for both of us and it was obvious that we

were emotionally and physically drained, but home was near.

42

WEDNESDAY

We were swimming. Splashing around and laughing together as Mom and Dad watched

from the pile of towels spread out on the shore. As I tripped and fell into the water again, I

could hear their deep and cheerful laughs floating towards me; I couldn’t help but smile even

more furiously. Days like these were my favorite. Running to join my parents, Jess beckoned

for me to follow, threatening to eat my ice-cream. But she always saved me one despite the

teasing and then, as a family, we would hike up above the dune, sit on top and, while looking

out to sea, take turns spying out fishing boats. It was my turn and I lifted my hand to my brow

to block out the sun. Squinting, I peered out ahead but, just as a spot came into my view, the

high screeching of a siren made me whip around… Dad!?

I jolted up, disoriented. Turning around and lamely attempting to locate my alarm, I tried to

shake the dream out of my mind. It made me too happy, remembering how we were long ago.

But even after my best efforts, it still lingered behind and I found myself thinking back to that

afternoon more than once throughout the day. The smell of salt filled my nostrils making them

flare, the breaking waves amidst whining seagulls drummed in my ears, taking over my senses.

It took all my willpower to focus on the present; those memories were too long ago. I knew too

much had changed now. But the tug of war of trying to control my thoughts was over now. I

was home again.

Potential distractions caught my attention the moment I wandered into the house; dishes to

wash, floors to sweep, plants to water, were there clothes on the line? My mind would be too

busy to daydream, I hoped.

The faded rings of the phone just registered from the backyard as I was finishing folding a

pair of Mom’s work pants. Dropping the pegs into the wicker basket, I rushed inside and to the

hallway, making it just before the last ring. Picking up the receiver I pressed ‘talk’.

“Hello?”

I tried to catch my breath as I waited for a response on the other side of the line.

“Is this the Anderson residence?” proceeded a deep, strong male voice.

Not recognizing the voice, I hesitantly answered.

“Yes… who is this?”

43

There was a faint rustle and muffled sounds, as if the phone was being handed from one

person to the next. I didn’t like this.

“Am I speaking to a Miss Paige Anderson?” came a new, younger sounding male.

“Umm, yeah? Can someone please tell me what this call is about?” Annoyance was starting

to protrude in my voice.

Adding to the confusion, the caller’s voice changed, ridding the words of any hint of emotion, I

could tell he did this often. He continued…

Jess’s name was spoken.

I couldn’t hear.

Voices became clouded.

Feeling faint.

The phone clatters to the ground.

My feet were sinking to the floor.

She’s gone.

She’s gone.

An accident.

Instant death.

She’s gone.

44

THURSDAY

Telling Mom was going to be the hardest; she didn’t need this, let alone deserve it. I was

trying my hardest not to hyperventilate at the sound of her keys jingling as they were placed

into the lock and I felt my heartbeat quicken as I broke out in a sweat. Maybe I could just hide

in my room, avoid her. I was sure someone would ring soon to give their condolences, or

perhaps if she turned on the news she would find out. Why did I have to break the news?

The door started to move. It was opening and I could see her perfectly polished black shoes.

It was too late to run and I looked up to face my mother, but when I met her eyes it was

obvious that she already knew. Every time we went shopping and walked past the makeup isle

Mom would comment on how she needed waterproof makeup, yet every time she still didn’t

buy any. Staring into her hazel eyes I tried to ignore the black smudges of her makeup that

surrounded her lids, but seeing the fresh tears that started to tumble as she looked back at me

was harder to see. Willing no tears of my own to fall, I let her drop her bag at my feet and

embrace me. It had been so long, and it was filled with so much desperation and longing. She

knew I was all that she had left and she was going to protect me.

45

FRIDAY

46

BOSTON DAILYSATURDAY DECEMBER 16th

ONLY ONE WALKS FREE

The 13th of December, a late Wednesday night drive proved to be a fatal drive for 23 year old Jessica Anderson of Brighton and a lucky escape for one other. At approximately 10:30pm two cars were involved in a collision at the intersection on Corey Road at the corner of Summit Avenue. Both cars we driving at the maximum speed for the allocated 30mph zone when the incident happened. It was said by a witness that the red Mazda, driven by 49 year old Jaime Davis, failed to stop at a red light, continuing to race down Corey Road, but was incepted by the blue Honda driven by Miss Anderson as she was headed through the middle of the intersection heading to Beacon Street, further down South East. It was said that because of the speeds they were travelling, neither driver had time to see the other car. The Mazda was hit from side on. Colliding front on caused Miss Anderson’s injuries to be fatal and she died at the scene before an ambulance could reach the intersection. As the other car was hit on the back passenger side, Mrs. Davis escaped the crash with her life, but suffered a mild head injury and several bruises. She was taken to hospital and discharged the next morning after she had a visit from the police and given a $300 fine and obtained 4 demerit points on her license. Manslaughter is ruled out at this time. When asked by our journalists why she didn’t stop at the lights we were given no response, but several of our sources say she was heading for the hospital for a family emergency. It was later

found that Miss Anderson was a registered nurse at the St Elizabeth’s Medical Centre, the same hospital Mrs. Davis was allegedly going. The funeral for Jessica will be held on Monday with only close family attending. The police who arrived at the scene are now encouraging that drivers must be extra cautious when approaching intersections, remembering to look each direction and that no one should ever run through red lights as, not only is it illegal, but deadly for all road users. This incident now puts Massachusetts’ road death toll at 52 this year.

47

SUNDAY

48

MONDAY

I had always hated funerals. The smell of death lingering in the air, sullen voices, dreary priest

speeches, black everywhere. Now as I had to watch my big sister being buried into the earth,

everything seemed so much worse. My world filled with continuous stares that I failed to notice and

harsh whispers I failed to hear because it seemed as if no one else was with me; it was just me and

Jess. I could still picture us laughing, fighting, crying. I would miss her so much. The service was a

blur; no one was taking in what the priest had to say, as we all knew that nothing could bring her

back. Looking up and trying to see through the tears that had filled my eyes, I noticed I stood alone;

Mom was on the other side of the pew, weeping heavily, but still I had no urge to comfort her. If she

didn’t want to grieve with her now only daughter then she could suffer by herself. Liam had left

already, his outburst draining him of all attempts to be civil, leaving it up to my uncle to drag him

out of the church. I’m guessing that seeing her coffin finally made him realize that his girlfriend of 3

years was actually gone. Watching him being forced to leave, I knew that was going to be the last

Mom and I would see of him.

Finally there was silence as the priest stopped speaking. With his robes billowing faintly, he

approached the front of the coffin and stretched out his arms, beckoning with his hands for us to

come forward. In turn, the audience stood, waiting their turn to say a final goodbye. One by one I

saw people cautiously climb the steps to the alter and place their flowers on the dark wooden lid:

Tulips, roses, daisies and the occasional freesia, all different colors and smells now present around

my sister.

Knowing it was now my turn, I slowly made my way forward, my black, satin ballet slippers

making no sound on the floorboards. Bringing my hand up from behind my back, I produced a

perfect white lily on a long green stem and placed it on top of the pile of flowers. Jess’s favorite

flower was the lily and I smiled as I thought of her once again. Back at my seat I turned to peer out

the window and noticed for the first time since that morning how good the weather was. The irony of

having good weather on such a sad occasion made me want to giggle, just like in all the movies, I

was expecting it to pour with rain at any moment.

Pausing for a moment I realized what I had just thought. Giggle at my sister’s own funeral?

Disgusted in myself, I focused back on the procession ahead of me. Any sign of happiness was

49

something that was going to have to be put on hold for a while. There was no time for smiling when

tears could go in its place.

The service was nearly over now and the priest was starting the closing prayer. Lost, I surveyed the

others around me and found them with their heads bowed, so I quickly followed suit. Listening to the

words being prayed, thoughts of heaven came to me. Was Jess there right now? Watching over us?

Over me? Never had I believed in the existence of a god but right then in the church, I actually hoped

that my sister was is a good place, a better place. Whether that place was heaven or not, I didn’t

know, but thinking of her at peace made my heart swell with contentment.

A wave of silence washed over the room as the time for silent condolences had come and I let my

mind go blank, listening to the sounds of the people; the lady next to me was whispering something

that was too low for me to hear, a man next to her was tapping his leg as if impatient, children were

murmuring behind me and a man further back had a cough. Breaking the unspoken rule, I lifted my

head as the priest started praying again and took a look behind me. There was Dad, sitting in his

wheelchair at the entrance, head in his hands. His whole body was shaking, telling me that he was

crying. I wanted so badly to run to his side, tell him it was okay, to be that strength that he had been

for me so many times, but I stayed seated. The service was finished.

Mom did the respectable thing and decided to be the one who greeted everyone at the door as they

piled out onto the footpath, and only a few decided to acknowledge Dad as he waited behind.

Wandering up the aisle, I saw both of them turn to look at me, wondering if they should approach me

first or not. Finally, when I was close enough I hugged Dad, and as I did I could smell his familiarity

and suddenly the old feeling of wanting him to be back home appeared. I had gotten so used to him

being away that now I wanted things to go back to how they were. I was so glad that somehow the

hospital had allowed him to make it today. He needed to be here. But gradually a searing pain crept

up my legs as they detested my body bending down to reach the wheelchair, so I straightened up and

composed myself once more.

Noticing Mom had gone from where she was minutes ago, I told Dad I would visit him soon and

ventured out to find her, which would be a hard task as I saw the amount of relatives still lurking

outside. Holding onto the cold steel rail as I padded down the steps, I thought about how distant my

parents had become. It was if they had separated. They were almost strangers. A pang of sadness hit

me again as I realized how Jess’s death would only push them further away from each other.

Eventually my mother’s signature dark red hair was visible amidst the sea of people idly chatting on

the edge of the street and I had to raise my arm, waving at her, before I had caught her attention. The

sigh that emerged from her was hard to miss, making it clear that the effort of walking over to me an

obvious chore.

50

“What do you want now, Paige?” Her voice was strained and cold, as if she was trying not to lose

her temper, her gaze wondering as she spoke my name. Would she just look at me?

“Can we go back home soon?” I asked, watching her face for any sign that would tell me if she

was going to yell. It seemed as if she was a completely different person now, since only a few days

ago she was fussing over me and not letting me out of her sight. Today she couldn’t even bear to talk

to me and I was constantly walking on eggshells.

“If you want to go home then go! Can’t you see I have people to attend to?” I suddenly took back

the desire for her eyes to meet mine; they felt like heat lazers burning into me and it hurt. As quickly

as she had approached me, she now turned her back and stormed off, headed towards a huddle of

great-grands that I hadn’t seen since I was about five. Looks like I was walking home. That moment

I was glad the sun was actually out as walking in the rain hadn’t been in my plans for the day.

I had only been home for around a half hour when the bustle that were my relatives decided to

congregate over at our house and they now all filled our very small kitchen to capacity. Taking their

loud chatter as my cue to head to my room, I started slinking from the lounge to the stairs but I only

made it halfway before I was caught out.

“Paige?! Omigosh! I haven’t seen you in, like, years!” The shrill of my very high pitched 20-

something aged cousin was unmistakable.

Closing my eyes, I pushed away thoughts of dashing up the staircase. Taking a breath, I turned

and put on my best fake smile.

“Emily! Hey, yeah. It has been so long since last time we caught up.” Hugging her lightly I

fulfilled the customary greeting then stepped back, wondering what to say next.

“So, umm, is that a new hair color? It looks, err… nice,” I stumbled. I wouldn’t exactly describe

her platinum dyed strands (with terrible re-growth) nice, but hey! Who said we had to be honest to

family we only saw at funerals.

“Omigosh! Thanks, Hon! I love your… err… shoes!” Again with the high pitch? I suppressed a

laugh as I noticed that she, too, had struggled to compliment me. Even though I wasn’t unattractive, I

felt that I was still far away from being put under the “attractive” category, so I didn’t expect

appraisal for my looks.

A few moments of awkward silence came across us and I remembered the day Mom told me that I

was too shy and that I needed to talk to people more. This translated into: when we have family over,

please actually speak. I didn’t even bother to argue with her because I knew it was pointless. She was

never going to understand that I wasn’t shy, it was simply the fact that I just had no desire to chat

about meaningless things to people who were practically strangers to me.

Thankfully Aunt Bess and Uncle Tom were among the first to leave so it wasn’t long before I was

waving Emily off, my cheeks aching from smiling for too long and too widely. As I finally trudged

51

up to my room, I wondered if this day would ever end. On the second floor I started left but then

turned back and headed into Jess’s room which was untouched since the last time that she had been

in there. Not bothering to turn on the light I laid down on the bed. I stared up at the ceiling and a hint

of surprise came over me as dozens of glow in the dark stars twinkled at me.

It had been years ago that Jess had stuck them up there and it hadn’t occurred to me that she had

kept them there. When I was younger, she used to call me in here so that we could both lie side by

side and watch the stars while she whispered make-believe stories about a princess and her kingdom

to me, adventures of the brave and beautiful Paige she called them. Overwhelming tiredness came

over me as Jess’s tales floated around in my memory. I could almost feel her hands stroking my hair

and, as I fell asleep, I didn’t even notice that I was crying.

52

TUESDAY

Being in her bed as I woke the next morning felt strange. Sitting up with the soft, pastel sheets

bundled around my ankles, my whole body shivered as my bare arms were exposed to the cool air. I

discarded my tights and dress, leaving them in a heap in the corner of the room and donned an old,

oversized band t-shirt that I found in the large chest of drawers opposite the bed. Sneaking across the

hall, I grabbed my jeans off the bathroom floor, picked up my bag from the downstairs hall and left

for school.

I guess people expected me to stay home for the rest of the week, thinking that I wouldn’t want to

see anyone so soon after Jess’s death. But I had expected no one to even notice that I had come back,

let alone have been gone in the first place, so when the constant stares in the main corridor came, I

was taken aback. From the first glance my way I felt my cheeks heat up, making my embarrassment

clear. I didn’t need this and I liked being invisible. I was counting on Rory to be there to keep me

sane but he was the only one that I didn’t see all day. At lunch I sat by myself like I used to before I

became friends with Rory, something that I used to be content with, but now it filled me with

emptiness. All afternoon I searched all the crowds of students that filed in and out of the classrooms

but I never saw that streak of orange. I had never depended on others for my happiness and I was

ashamed when I realized that Rory was now a big part of making my day.

Dodging the flock of fellow classmates, I made my way home by taking the back streets opposed

to the main roads, giving myself a peaceful walk. On a whim I decided to cut back and across the

street to head towards the hospital; maybe Rory was with Bianca. Staring up as the automatic front

doors slid open for me I glumly realized how much time I was spending inside this building lately.

My sour mood wasn’t going to get any better any time soon, I could tell. Striding over to the

receptionist’s desk, I tried to remember Rory’s last name, they wouldn’t be able to help me if I was

only asking for a first.

“Hi, umm, hello?” I stammered, fidgeting with the tousles on my scarf.

“Yes? How can I assist you?” replied the bored lady who was filing her nails behind the large

desk.

“I was just wondering what room is Bianca… Umm Bianca Davis? Her room number please.”

A strange feeling came over the lady as she gently put down the nail file. Now finally looking up

at me, it looked as if her eyes were filled with pity. Did she know I was related to Jess?

53

“Oh Hon, didn’t you hear? Bianca… died.” The last word hit me like a truck, even though it was

barely whispered.

I felt my knees start to buckle and I just made it to the row of chairs in time. I racked my brain to

place it all together. Davis, that was Rory’s last name, as well as the woman’s who hit Jess in her car.

That was his mother? They both were heading to the hospital, Jess as a call-in for a nurse and Mrs.

Davis for… Bianca?

“Excuse me, when did she die?” I called out across to the receptionist.

Jerking her head up and looking around her, she realized that it was her who I was speaking to.

“What?”

“I said, when did she die?” I repeated.

“Last Wednesday night, I think.”

The same night! They were all rushing to the hospital to save her, and… and they didn’t make it.

Another blow came as bad as the first as it sunk in. Sweet, fragile Bianca was gone.

I didn’t even remember the trip back home and it still shocked me that somehow I managed to fall

asleep.

Waking up from a groggy nap and looking at the glowing clock beside me, I knew that it was still

hours yet before rising fully would be in question but I also knew sleep wouldn’t come again soon. I

let my thoughts drift to Rory and his sister but resisted the tears that were lingering. Looking out at

the window, I could see the storm that had approached while I had been resting. I could almost feel

the clashes and booms. The crashing of the thunder grew more intense as the angry clouds belonging

to the storm crept closer to the house. The booming sounded like hundreds of wardrobes were being

dropped over head, and they were as rapid and startling as blasts of a shotgun. The lightening

followed, gone in a flash, but still lingering long enough so that it illuminated the trees outside my

window, casting monstrous silhouettes across the pale carpet of my room. The black was a deadly

contrast to the blinding white of the bolts.

Sudden flashbacks came to me as I knew the shadows were soon to return. Flashbacks that took

me back to my childhood storms.

It was the first and worst storm of the winter. Curled up with my legs tucked up to my chest and

my arms holding them in place, I tried not to cry out as the wind continued to howl. Unfurling, I

reached my hand under my head and grasped my pillow. Tugging until it came free, I placed the

54

softness over my head, desperately trying to drown out the screeching as the wind found the brittle

tree branches and bashed them against my window. Clenching my eyes tight, I tried to sleep but

knowing it would never come. Eventually I felt the first hot tear fall, soaking into my matted hair.

When would this all end? It wasn’t long after when my door creaked open. My body went rigid as

my ears sensed this sudden sound and I willed my eyes to stay shut. I didn’t want to face this

monster. The shuffling steps gradually made way across my room and I felt the weight of the bed

shift as the intruder sat down. A soft noise filled my ears; I was whimpering. What felt like eternity

later another sound floated towards me:

Little child, be not afraid

Though rain pounds harshly against the glass

Like an unwanted stranger, there is no danger.

I am here tonight.

Realization flooded over me. Dad. He had come to comfort me, knowing my fear of large storms.

His voice continued into the darkness, velvet singing, pure reassurance, as the words of my special

lullaby persisted:

Little child, be not afraid

Though thunder explodes and lightening flash

Illuminates your tear stained face.

I am here tonight.

As if provoked by the song, another strike of lightning hit, my dad now visible at the foot of my

bed. Surprised, a sense of calm had come over me as I now knew that I was safe. The storm’s

attempts at taunting me any further were failing. Gingerly creeping out of the folds of my comforter,

I crawled over to where he sat watching me. He spread out his arms and I flung myself into his

embrace. In his arms I could now sleep. Feeling my eyelids droop, I whispered ‘I love you’ and let

his singing take me to my dreams.

55

WEDNESDAY

Everything had changed, yet at the same time nothing had changed at all. I still had the same

routine of getting up, surviving then getting home again. I still didn’t see Mom on a regular basis and

I still went to visit Dad in the hospital. Jess was gone, but the deep laceration we all thought she had

cut into our hearts (and lives) was really a single keyhole incision that promised only lingering

memories and an ever fading scar.

I had seen students who, too, had faced the death of a family member. There were the dramatic

ones who threw chairs, cried uncontrollably and screamed out the injustice they had been served.

The other, more restrained kids decided, instead, to hide; removing themselves so far from others

until they had shrunk away from the world completely into a life where only they existed. Somehow

I knew that I didn’t fit into either of those ‘typical’ stereotypes, choosing to go on as before, seeing

no reason for change.

I heard the talking though. The rumors that I was happy that she had died, that I seemed too calm

and approachable for a girl who just lost her sister. Maybe if they actually knew my relationship with

my sister then they wouldn’t be so quick to assume they knew the reasons behind my demeanor.

Even now, with the added weight of the knowledge of Bianca’s death, I chose to act the same,

continuing my routine, waiting until it all felt normal again. School slowly passed by and the bus ride

too. Soon I was back home, the day gone and feeling as if it hadn’t even started yet. How quick the

time was passing. Was it really a week since her accident?

My mind was in overdrive, over thinking, analyzing, keeping me distracted, focused on anything

but reality. Did I leave my homework at school? Since when was the speed limit on our road 20

miles p/h? Why was Mom’s car in the garage this early? Wait, this was reality. Why was Mom’s car

in the garage!?

“Mom?” I called out into the dark hall as I entered the house.

“I’m in the kitchen,” she replied.

It had been years since I had seen my mother make a hearty home cooked dinner and it made me

instantly wonder how long this was going to last.

Hanging my stuff onto the back of the dining chair, I sat down as I inhaled the smell of roast

potato and chicken. I smiled and asked if there was anything I could help with.

“You could set the table please, dear.”

56

Serving up the vegetables after I had finished putting out the cutlery, I filled her in about a few of

the day’s events. An ‘A’ on my English text, a horrible new lab partner, Mr. Lynch’s crooked

mustache. Eventually, we were seated with plates piled high placed in front of us and we were diving

into them. It was amazing. The food, the bonding, the atmosphere, it was all amazing. Now it was a

countdown to see how long things stayed this way. Mom never seemed to permanently stay the

perfect mother for long.

By the time I shut myself in my room I was extremely tired. Was it just me, or were my days

starting to get very emotionally different? Happy, sad, repeat. Looks like things had actually changed

after all.

57

THURSDAY

Even though I had always complained about my school, saying that it never met any of my needs-

intellectual or social- the methodical lessons that made up my day were a warm welcome as I settled

back into the life of the ignored. Even though it hadn’t even been a week since the funeral, people

already considered me old news as their minds became preoccupied with better, newer gossip that

filtered through the school’s peer groups.

Following the conventional American schooling system, we had the same lessons each day every

year, where the only difference between Year 9 and Year 12 was the difficulty of the expected work.

This way of presenting the lessons made it easy for me to sit down and numbly copy the messy

scrawling from the chalkboards as my mind processed through its dozens of scenarios and thoughts.

Even though there was still no sign of Rory, it wasn’t as if I was expecting him to come to school

because, obviously, I was the only ‘normal’ person to abnormally want to come back to school so

soon after a death of a loved one. I didn’t know when Bianca’s funeral had been, but I knew that

even if I had known that wouldn’t change anything.

Right after school, I headed towards the hospital for a short visit to Dad to check up on him, as I

never really had understood how well he had taken Jess’s death.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to stay long, a nurse cutting our conversation (or rather, lack of

conversation) short as I was informed of his changed treatment day. I really had wanted to talk to

him, see how he was coping, but seeing the emptiness that filled his eyes I knew that he didn’t have

the strength to try and converse with me that afternoon.

Walking the long way home to pick up a warm cup of coffee from my favorite corner café, I

chose not to think, but instead observe, as I usually did when around the busy little section of stores

there.

I slowly made my way down the street passing all kinds of people, listening to their laughs or

noticing their silence and, as I rounded the corner to head back towards home, I spotted a group of

boys from my school. Keeping my head down, looking at the ground, I tried not to look up as they

brushed past me, but still stole a glance back at them after they entered the nearby takeaway shop.

The last boy of the pack hesitated inside of the doorway as he noticed my watching and he smiled at

me before quickly rejoining his friends. It was the boy on the bus from my class, whose name I

couldn’t remember.

58

The rest of the walk was quiet, both outside as well as inside me. No thoughts floated into my

mind and it was as if I wasn’t present, only my legs instinctively carrying me home.

A small surprise was awaiting me on my arrival, as yet another home style meal arranged by my

mother was enticing all my senses and making my stomach churn with inhuman growls. Until now, I

hadn’t realized how starving I was.

59

FRIDAY

He was here. Sprinting to get out of the rain, his hair was slick with the cold water that had

suddenly fallen in the day’s first flash shower, his shoes making the unmistakable squeak of

waterlogged soles. Taking cover in the school foyer, he shook his head like a wet dog, covering the

walls in tiny beads of water that slipped slowly unnoticed down to the ground. I was a few meters

away from him, concealed by a stretch of students, but it was as if he could sense my presence,

darting his head up and around to face me directly and spotting me behind the others.

I tried to move towards him, wanting to say so much to him but, as soon as I started dodging each

person to close the space between us, he turned on his heels and walked right back out into the rain,

shielding his face with the hood of his jacket. Was he pretending that he hadn’t seen me? We had

locked eyes. He knew I was looking for him, this didn’t make any sense.

Turning back around myself, I headed up the corridor to face lunch alone again, tired of not

understanding where I stood with Rory. As the bell rang to signify the ending of lunch, the whole

student body wandered into the auditorium for assembly, the rows and rows of firm plastic seats

gradually being filled until there were none left. It was the school’s tradition to hold an event like

this on the last day, trying to showcase their achievements for our time in class.

Noticing people around me dozing off or sneaking a last text on their phone, I tried to drone out

the sounds of the band performing and patiently sit through the headmaster’s speech on perseverance

and goal setting. A thought entered my mind as I realized that I perhaps wouldn’t see Rory until

school returned, 10 days from now. Just as the closing announcements were made and we were all

waiting to be let out, I quickly swept my eyes over the bundle of students that made up the grade

11’s. Spotting him in one of the middle rows next to two other boys, I was glad to know that he

hadn’t entirely skipped school that day, but the fact he had avoided me was still gnawing on my

insides.

Coming home to an empty house I knew there wouldn’t be any more cooked dinners. I knew that

things weren’t ever going to seem like we were a normal family. The thing I didn’t know was how to

save myself from this mess that was slowly devouring me.

60

SATURDAY

It was a long shot but the only place I knew I had any chance of seeing him was here. Waiting

wasn’t something that bothered me, though I just hoped that the hours that were passing by were

going to be worth it. I had brought a book and my extra heavy coat and was seated at the familiar set

of benches in the middle of the park at the end of my street. It was our spot, we saw each other most

weekends here. He had to turn up eventually. I was halfway through my book, starving hungry and

starting to lose feeling in the tips of my fingers, when I heard the crunching of snow behind me.

Keeping my head in my book and not turning around until a small tap was delivered on my shoulder,

I was so glad to see that it was Rory. My smile kept hidden at first as I remembered the ordeal that he

must have been going through that week but I didn’t try to suppress my exuberant welcome.

His embrace was as warm as the rushing of blood that had surfaced under my cheeks and it was a

comfort against the chill of the snowy afternoon. My smile came out of hiding as I let go and saw

that he, too, was smiling, but I noticed that his was brimming with sadness.

Motioning for him to come take a seat next to me, I bookmarked my page and turned to face him.

“I was hoping that if I came here I would see you. I heard about Bianca and I’m so sorry and I

missed you at school and I realized that you were my only friend and you missed the good lunch at

school on Thursday…” I took a breath. I knew I was rambling but I was so nervous. Could I still act

the same around him? Did Bianca’s death change us or not?

“Paige, slow down,” he quickly scrawled across the chalkboard. “I hope you weren’t waiting long

for me. We are all sorry about Bianca. I missed you, too, and I can’t believe I missed the good

lunch!” He replied to my statements.

I laughed softly as our conversation headed into our normal routine again, relieved that it seemed

our friendship was still okay. I didn’t say anything about the fact that he hadn’t commented on my

‘only friend’ declaration but I was ashamed and didn’t bring it up again.

Questions and ideas floated through my mind as our conversation headed towards Jess’s funeral.

There was so much that I wanted to ask him, so much about his past that I suddenly wanted to know

but, just like when I first found out about Bianca’s illness, the courage was nowhere to be seen.

Eventually, Rory must have noticed my repeated subconscious shivers and stood up.

61

“It is getting late and really cold. I can walk you home,” he suggested, but straight away noticed

as my face fell in disappointment.

“Or… we can go to my place? My mom is out and we can find something to eat?”

I nodded in agreement and he smirked at my obvious eagerness.

Unlike my place, his small house was not as recently built and the warmth emitting from the huge

fireplace in the den enveloped me the moment I walked in the front door. After we had treated

ourselves to frozen pizza and coke we sat on the plush couches that sat in a U shape around the den

and I didn’t have to ask as Rory began to willingly write.

This couldn’t be right; she wasn’t nine months along -far from it. It was too early.

‘Oh baby, what are you up to?” She murmured under her breath as her face scrunched up tightly.

The contractions had started.

In. Out. In. Pause. Out.

“Control your breathing,” they said. “It will be over soon,” they said.

The hours that had gone by were forgotten in the drama, they were uncounted, unimportant. Five,

eighteen? It didn’t matter. Her whole being contorted in pain and she knew what was happening.

This was it.

Where were they taking him? She forgot the pain for a moment and focused on her baby. Why

couldn’t she hear his cries? The doctor’s face was pained, completely in thought. The clear creases

carved into his forehead, brows closed together in the middle. Frustration?

There, in the far room. The nurses were bustling, hovering over her baby. What was going on?

Lost in confusion and anxiety, she fell back against the bed, grasping her husband’s hand. It

seemed like forever before the staff acknowledged her in the sodden sheets; it was as if she had been

forgotten until she was finally seen to by a friendly nurse that she had not met until now. By now she

was in her own hospital room but she was still on high alert and nervous being so far away from her

baby.

Jumping at every movement towards the open doorway, the new mother was getting frantic.

Finally, the familiar face of the woman’s doctor appeared at the foot of her bed. The fact that she

wasn’t greeted by name was the first clue that everything was not okay. She forgot to breathe.

“Although there is an extremely small chance that a child could be born mute, it can be simply

because their throat or vocal chords did not completely develop.”

62

As the tidal wave hit her, she was barely aware of her husband stepping away from her side. She

couldn’t hear the doctor’s automatic condolences and until his hand rested briefly on her shoulder.

She didn’t hear her own grief stricken sobs as she grasped for the air that she couldn’t find.

It took a while for it to sink in, but she still sat there through the numbness as she took in the

words of the doctor.

“We have run multiple tests and examinations, as many as we possibly can at this stage. But it is

has come to our attention that this is purely the fact that because of his very premature birth, your

son may never be able to speak.”

Glancing over at where her husband sat, head in his hands, she wondered what he was thinking.

He so longed to be called ‘dad’.

She began weeping again as the doctor headed towards the door.

“Can I see him?” she suddenly asked, desperation thick in her voice.

“I’m sorry, we cannot allow you to see him. We are very busy running tests on him and still need

to keep him under observation, as he is very weak. Maybe after you rest?”

“No,” she said. “No, no, no!” her voice rising at each command.

“I’m so sorry. Really, I am,” he said quietly. She knew he was sincere.

She longed to cry out her child’s name, Sam, but it didn’t seem to fit anymore. It was too ordinary

for her baby now. Forgetting the name her husband and herself had spent the entire pregnancy

choosing, she searched her mind.

“NO!” Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

The sedation that was delivered by the nurses came quickly, but as she felt herself going under the

fog of the anesthetic, she still tried to fight.

“Rory!”

The fact that Rory wasn’t crying surprised me and it made me wonder if he had told his story

many times before, being used to the devastation of it all. He had written it all down onto a notepad

so that he didn’t have to have the bother of erasing the chalkboard numerous times. As I finished and

passed the paper back to him, he scrunched it up and tossed it into the fire as if shooting a basketball

hoop. And right there and then, his story was incinerated in less than twenty seconds. My mind had

been opened to his world now and the question I had wanted to know since our very first meeting

was answered, but shamefully I had still more to come.

63

It seemed like hours that we stayed there on the couch, deep in discussion and, in fact, it was.

Occasional breaks for drinks were the only things that would stop us.

I found out that Rory was originally from Washington but a couple of years ago, when Bianca

was first diagnosed, the treatment that was best for her was found in Boston. So he and his mother

moved to give her the best chance of survival while his dad, Callum, stayed behind to continue his

job to support his family.

The sacrifices that their family had made for Bianca were amazing and I felt nothing less than

admiration for Rory’s parents. I asked if he missed his dad much, but I already knew the answer.

It was strange how much that we didn’t realize we had in common; families separated by illness

and a dead sister.

I don’t know why I was the one who ended the night crying on his shoulder, I mean if anything,

Rory was the one who had lost so much more than me, but the grief that I had accumulated since

Jess’s death, and even before that, just boiled over.

Somewhere between my blubbering about regrets and mistakes, I heard the soft distinct sobs of

him beside me and I grasped him tighter. Together, we let out all our anguish until our faces were

puffy and red and all the tears were dried up for the evening.

Sniffling and wiping my nose, I tried to stand up but, after being seated for so long and having my

eyes still hazy, my legs wobbled and I collapsed on the ground. The silence was shocking as we

waited for either one to react first and I couldn’t keep it in. I burst out laughing and I couldn’t stop.

Soon we were both crying again, but this time in absolute laughter. We were alive!

That night was the connecting of souls that I thought would last forever.

64

SUNDAY

The snow that was gradually falling around me was so fine that if I stood still long enough and

strained my eyes into the closing darkness, I could see the form of each individual snowflake. Unlike

the almost star-like resemblance that society claimed they looked like, the flakes I saw were less

structured. It was as if even the slightest gust of wind could make them snap apart, creating smaller

half completed frozen water droplets.

Unstructured: the perfect definition of my family right now. Our complete delicate snowflake had

been broken apart, torn, changed, and now, from the outside looking in, it seemed a different shape

altogether. The people that had been connected were now separated – Dad, Jess and even Mom –

were falling. I couldn’t stand the snow anymore. The beautiful coldness had reminded me of the one

thing that I was trying so hard to push out of my mind. It was Christmas Eve, and instead of being in

front of a warm, crackling fire like a “family”, Dad was still in hospital, Mom was working and I

was wandering the streets of Boston looking for something. What I was looking for exactly, I didn’t

know but I kept going anyway. Further and further west of my house as the clock counted towards

midnight.

As my gaze darted around my surroundings, they rested on the tall church tower that was in sight

down the road and the giant metal bells hidden at the top of the tower clanged. In the stillness of the

night, the overwhelming movement and sound sliced into my world, awakening the neighborhood

dogs and me from my thoughts. Staggering as the sounds hit me, I started running. I didn’t stop until

I was outside the entrance of the ancient cathedral.

Catching my breath and staring up and the mosaic collection of shattered glass fragments that

made up the elegant stain glass windows, I had never seen anything so beautiful. My chest heaving, I

wasn’t sure if the courage was there to either push open the wooden doors or reach on my tiptoes to

use the heavy, brass knocker. Afraid that no one would answer or worse, having to explain to an

intimidating old priest why I was here, alone, on Christmas Eve, I opted out of letting anyone know I

was there – I wasn’t planning to stay long, anyway. I only slightly cringed as the large door creaked

open and then I silently slipped through the small gap into the church.

65

The only light that filled the vast room were the flickering torches that were mounted on the

walls, growing brighter as I headed up past the rows of empty pews. The altar was a great mahogany,

placed in the center of the building that had delicate lace cloth draped over its surface, a perfectly

polished cross standing in the middle above the oversized bible and long tapestries hanging stiffly

beside either side. Taking a seat a couple back from the front, I realized that I didn’t know what I

was going to do next. Except for routine weddings and funerals, I had never willingly entered a

church and it was very strange. I had always expected them to be brimming with extreme religious

goers with a daunting old man telling them they were going to hell, but the atmosphere that was

inside this cathedral right now was peaceful, calming.

Finally, after weeks of drama I could just sit and listen to... Nothing. Bowing my head, I thought

of all the families out there, sleeping and awaiting the new day that would bring Christmas joy. Envy

filled my head, something that I hadn’t felt in a long time and I breathed out steadily, ridding myself

of such an emotion and burying it back inside me. In that moment, I knew what I had been looking

for all that night. Release. Closing my eyes and keeping my head down, my voice wavered.

“God,” I whispered, the word barely audible. Was there even anyone listening? This was insane.

“I don’t know if you exist or if you would listen to someone like me, but please help me.” What

did I need help with? My mind was racing, it was like I wasn’t in control of my words.

What was I doing?

“Please fix my family, God. I don’t know when it happened or why, but my family is broken...”

my voice cracked. I relaxed and steadied my shaking hands, “...and I want it whole again.”

I sat there not moving for a few moments, taking in what I had just said when a thought came to

me.

“Also, God? Tell Jess I love her.” I blushed but said no more.

Stepping back into the isle I smiled, how had my night turned into something so unexpected?

Creeping back through the gap in the huge doors and only turning back for a second to imprint the

church in my mind, I quickly returned home, faster than before, running as if I was in a race for my

life.

It was nearly 2am when I faced the clock in the kitchen once again, shocked at how far away I

had gone. Seeing no dirty dishes on the sink and no puddles of melted snow in the hall, I assumed

that Mom was staying the night at the hospital, avoiding me so, with a shrug, I slammed my door

closed. Another night alone, why had I been expecting anything more? As I snuggled down into the

warmth of my bed I blanked my mind, trying to forget about the prayer and waited for sleep to take

me away.

“And merry, merry Christmas to you all!”

66

MONDAY

Being able to tell that someone doesn’t want to be where they are is simple: They fiddle; either

their hands or feet constantly moving, twitching. Their eyes never meet your own because they are

either looking down or always around them. They often produce this woeful sigh, as if it is all too

much to bear. Spotting these comes easily to me now, past situations teaching, preparing me well.

Being around such an awkward family. I often wondered if I, too, made discomfort obvious.

But because of this, I knew neither of my parents wanted to be in that room together, even before

I reached the last step at the bottom of the staircase. Nearly joining in with my own exasperated sigh,

I heard them trying to make conversation.

“So, how have you been, Katherine?” Dad asked tentatively, calling Mom by her full Christian

name. I imagined how sour the name must have tasted on his tongue, having spent 23 years using

endearments.

“I’m just fine thank you, James.” Mom replied, clearly not very eager to continue further small

talk.

Anger rose up inside of me, bubbling intensely until it finally spilled over the edge. I couldn’t

take it anymore. Tramping down the rest of the few stairs that were left, I kept going straight into the

lounge where they were both seated.

I barely noticed them turning slightly in their opposing chairs to face me because I had started

yelling. But this also meant that I didn’t notice the expression on their faces as they looked at each

other the moment I stepped through the doorway.

“23 years!” I exclaimed, my voice blitzing the silence to pieces. I was ready. It was my turn to

speak, and before the pieces would have had a chance to hit the ground I was steaming ahead like a

train hitting its limits. “This is how it is, after all that time? That love you had so much of for one

another, where did it go?!” My arms stretched out to my sides to emphasize that the love couldn’t be

found here, the motion adding to my shrill voice. My body was fuming, my chest heaving violently

up and down. My voice faulted. “You might as well be divorced.”

Somehow those quiet words got through to them better than the others did but I was out and

heading back towards the front door before they could even rise from their seats.

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It was pathetic, Dad was a man sick in hospital, not some home wrecker who had another family

in a different state. Everything that has been going on should have brought us closer, not pushed us

away. I was so angry still and, as I pulled my beanie down past my ears, I growled out loudly into

the cool air while I continued down the footpath.

By the time that I had calmed down, I noticed that I had already walked halfway across Brighton

with no idea about what to do next. The houses that surrounded me looked unfamiliar. New

landmarks started appearing around corners and shops I’d never entered before loomed before me.

This definitely was an area I hadn’t been before.

Somehow I had known the moment that I left through that gate that it would be hours until I could

return, saying something as blatant as that without expecting them to reciprocate badly would just be

completely ignorant of me. It wasn’t even lunch time yet, but already my stomach had started

churning, begging to be filled with food. Clutching at my stomach with my nails I knew I had to

think of a plan. I couldn’t spend the day roaming around here. Two nights in a row wandering the

streets was definitely not the way to keep acting. Even though I felt angry, I knew better than to act

childish. That wouldn’t help anything. My parents were dealing with a lot on their plate at the

moment, I knew that. Things just used to be so different. We were such a close knit family, one that

all the other kids that we knew were jealous of, now I was the one who despised any sign of

normality.

Before Dad had been diagnosed, I used to hang around with a girl my age called Layla who I had

gone to primary school with. And sure, to start with, I didn’t mind the fact that she was better than

me in practically everything but after Dad was first admitted into the hospital, I just couldn’t take the

exposure to such perfection at such a time like that. Her perfect grades, family, appearance,

boyfriend etc. the list could be endless if I wanted it to be. The first Monday after we heard the news

I drew back, started ignoring her and it didn’t take long at all before she got the picture and stopped

trying too. After all, she had been risking her status to keep ties with me at the start of high school

anyway, having dropped me, she now felt like she could resume her desire to climb the high social

ladder.

I haven’t seen Layla since she was accepted into one of the more prestigious schools across the

river a year back, making me feel stupid for ending the only friendship I had. Yet when I think back

on our closeness, it seems more like I relied on her more as a leader to guide me and take me under

her wing rather than an equal friend, so that I survived the harsh conditions of my peers.

Knowing I had been long enough away, I headed back in the general direction of my

neighborhood, using my vague memory of street names to help me. Arrival didn’t come until the late

afternoon and, even though the amount of time that it had taken to find my way back had surprised

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me, the fact that my parents were in each other’s arms on the front porch when I turned into the

gateway was a bigger shock.

It felt like one of those scenes in a cheesy, predictable movie where two people didn’t notice

another enter because of how deeply they were in love or how heavy they were in an argument. Then

the third person had to awkwardly make a noise, such as clearing their throat or coughing, to be

acknowledged. The only difference this time was that I chose to swing open the rustic gate that was

bolted shut at the start of the small walking path that led up to the house. It was an ancient, steel

piece of junk that we had never gotten around to removing, but secretly I think that we were all fond

of it and the loud squeak it produced every time that it was swung.

Working like a charm, the sudden ‘nails-down-chalkboard-teeth-grinding’ sound acted like a

shock that zapped its way between my parents, and they sprung apart abruptly like guilty teenagers

being caught by their own parents.

A hint of a smirk shone on my face as I quickly danced past them back into the warmth of the

house. I wouldn’t bring it up if they didn’t. Being greeted with a bounty of food laid out on the table

was also a new thing to walk in on that day, but it made great use as a way to avoid conversation.

Guilty looks and stifled laughs were always present around the table of three, but thankfully they felt

no urge to discuss my venture halfway across the suburb. Or even worse, the comments that had led

to my running away.

Presents came and went fairly fast and soon Dad was leaving, going back to the hospital; the place

he now called home. Mom and I were quiet as we cleared the day’s mess away, taking away the

evidence that a family had once been here, and I didn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity to retreat to

my room.

After much thought, I had decided that the vivid dreams were the worst. Even though the

confusion and the unknown element of dark, hazy dreams was disconcerting, the frankness and

clarity of the majority of my dreams sent shivers up my spine. That night it felt like déjà vu as I

replayed Christmas Eve in my mind, walking endlessly in the pitch black, the white snow the only

thing distinguishable against the night. I couldn’t find my way home, each new corner bringing

another foreign street, forcing me to spend hours, even eternity, searching, looking for a way home.

Even sometimes I swore that I could see a figure at the end of the road, Mom or Dad, even Jess on

every odd numbered avenue. As I stopped in the middle of nowhere, terrified and cold I remember

feeling a snowflake graze the nose of my dream self.

The next morning, I woke up with a nose as cold as the breeze conjured on the first day of winter,

that stung against the touch of my hot fingertip.

69

TUESDAY

I guess it was the amount of removal trucks that seemed to be turning down Fuller Street that first

grabbed my attention. Or maybe the feeling in the pit of my stomach that felt like it was full of

rhinoceroses wasn’t just because I had skipped breakfast that morning.

I knew that I couldn’t be sure that the vehicles were heading to Rory’s house but there was just

this knowing, assuming almost, that I was right. Picking up my pace, it wasn’t long before his house

was in sight and, sure enough, my earlier premonition was correct; there were at least three small

trucks parked on the side of the curb in front of their driveway and the large block lettering of

‘Lachy’s Lucky Removalists’ in bright green was clearly visible.

Seeing Mrs. Davis emerge from the front of the house to greet the men in the trucks, I hastily darted

behind the assortment of trash cans adjacent to my side, huddling up, trying my hardest not to be

seen. I couldn’t face them right now, not after just finding this out. There had to be a reasonable

explanation: they were only stopping for directions, or it was a friend of theirs who was moving.

Maybe they had the wrong house, anything was plausible but there was no way that they would be

moving... I hoped?

Retreating back the way I had come, I decided I would rather not stick around to find out. Rory

would have told me, I kept reassuring myself. Then again things were different now; death was

pushing us apart no matter how hard we tried to stay together.

Kicking a stone repeatedly with my old sneakers, I tried to remember the things that still mattered

to me, I think that my heart ached more for my scuffed shoes on my feet than it did for the emptiness

that had settled into my soul.

What happened? Life had been so sweet two years ago, but now there wasn’t even a hint of a

silver lining in my sky that had been filled with infinite darkness. I couldn’t even remember a day

where I could just smile for the sake of it, or just dance in my room like nothing else mattered. I

didn’t need another person leaving me. I needed Rory!

I thought that knowing he was leaving was the worst of it, but I didn’t realize that it would hurt so

much when he didn’t show up to tell me the truth until more than half the day had agonizingly

passed by. A soft knock presented itself on my door and, after having spent so long studying his

70

expressions previously, I instantly had my answer. His brows drooped low, matching the frown that

he wore on his lips and the shuffling of feet and hands in his pockets were other dead giveaways. I

turned away from him, shielding my face from him. Did I dare show him how much this upset me?

As he approached to comfort me, I shrugged away from his touch, stubbornly ignoring the urge to

cry. My voice bubbled out, the bitterness and sting surprising even myself.

“When do you leave?” I asked bluntly. There was no point dancing around the real questions.

“This time tomorrow.”

“Are you going back to Washington to be with your father?” I said.

“Yeah, Mom reckons it’s better this way, ever since Bianca...” he trailed off, the ellipsis hinting to

the words he couldn’t bring himself to write down.

“That makes sense,” I nodded in agreement. “Well, I guess this is goodbye then.”

A small pang of guilt washed over me as I saw the hint of sadness that came across his eyes and,

even though it only lasted a second, it would stay with me for weeks after. I wanted to see him

tomorrow, be there as they were sent off but I knew I couldn’t. I had seen the movies, read the

books. A clean break was easiest, the quickest to heal.

“I would love you to be there tomorrow, Paige, you know, to say a last goodbye.” His scrawl was

rushed as he almost pleaded with me.

“Maybe, Rory. I don’t know.” I said, knowing I couldn’t possibly explain my cheap reasoning to

him. I knew that he was confused and he deserved more than someone like me. Someone who cared

enough to wrap him in their arms and tell him they were going to miss him. It felt selfish, thinking of

my own emotions before his, but I decided it was best for me, him, us. We had only known each

other for a few weeks so he would soon forget; our entire companionship eventually only resembling

a single, minute spore floating endlessly in an entire forest of new memories.

After he had left, I had immediate regret, wondering how I had managed to just stand there as he

shut the door behind him. All through dinner I couldn’t think, and even Mom couldn’t shake me

from all the thoughts that were racing through my mind that seemed to be busier than any type of

peak hour traffic.

“Paige? Paige, are you listening to me?”

I shrugged; of course I could hear her. I just didn’t want to.

“I was always worried that you would turn into one of those teenagers who snuck out of the house

instead of those who substitute grunts for their words. I guess I had it around the wrong way.” She

chuckled slightly, amused at her observations. Just to add to her point, I didn’t say the slightest thing

for the rest of the meal.

That sentence actually didn’t register with me until I was about to get ready for bed. Cleaning my

teeth with extra focus that night, I stopped mid brush as her words came back to me. “One of those

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teenagers who snuck out of the house.” Staring with widened eyes, I knew what I had to do and I

knew one hundred per cent that this would change everything around and even better, it would be

easy to pull off!

Now I guess even if I had been one to have the need to sneak out of the house in the early hours

of the morning for a party or secret meeting or what not, I didn’t realize that I couldn’t have anyway.

It hadn’t crossed my mind that my room, on the second floor, was extremely high up and there was

no obvious way up to my window, let alone down.

Running my fingers through my hair in frustration I studied the structure of my house, could I

find a safe way to the bottom of the backyard?

Now sitting on the ledge of my open window, I could see better than my earlier position at the

foot of my bed, and things were looking more optimistic. The trellis that Mom had put up the side of

the house was still there, despite the fact that the huge array of creeping vines that covered its

wooden framework had hidden it so well at the beginning. Trying my footing on the first foothold

that I found on the trellis, I sighed with relief as it held my weight, but a few nerves shivered their

way up my spine as the wind picked up, swaying me to one side. Thankfully a fear of heights was

something that I didn’t possess, so it was only a quarter of an hour later until I was safely at ground

level and heading towards Fuller Street.

By now, all evidence was pointing towards the fact that this escapade was terribly unplanned,

because now I was 100 metres from Rory’s front garden yet had no idea which room in the house

was his bedroom. For all I knew, he might not even have a window in his room. Slowly creeping

around, I came to the first room where the light was shining brightly out into the night. As I peered

in cautiously, I saw that it was the den that we had sat in last time Rory had invited me over, so I

kept moving and I beamed happily in the dark as the next room that was alit was the one I had been

after.

The one thing that had been considered on the way over had been the way of getting his attention

and I had opted for the old fashion ‘pebbles on window’ approach. I was a dozen rocks less by the

time Rory’s ever-so familiar face pressed up against the cold glass and his initial shock didn’t even

last a handful of seconds before his happiness protruded through.

Letting me in, I think he already knew that he didn’t have to ask why I was here, I was going to

tell him anyway.

It was only a short visit.

Our last visit.

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WEDNESDAY

I don’t really remember how the trees looked in the fall. The piles of shriveled up, old leaves

would have been drifting in the cool wind that had settled in on our small area of Boston, left to be

scattered over footpaths, creating the crunching that was a pinnacle of the season. People would have

marveled at the magic of their changing colors as forest green morphed into the shades that

resembled flickering flames, or a ginger tabby that they once had loved. Couples of all ages and

gender were to be spotted strolling hand in hand down the streets, their breath visibly rising into the

sky as they talked in unison, and coffee shops were becoming crowded as hot cocoa was being

craved. The temperature would have started decreasing dramatically, yet still only to a chill that was

soothed with a scarf and beanie. It was many people’s favorite season; it was mine too. But this year

I had missed it, failed terribly to stop and admire the earth’s wonder that is fall. Why? I couldn’t

remember. But sitting there in the dead of winter, I wished I hadn’t missed it; missed the last chance

to experience the lack of snow.

It was so cold now.

Like wiry, slender fingers reaching out to grasp me, the dead branches loomed overhead. Winter

was like a creature hidden in the shadows; everything that enters its presence slowly dying and

desiccating. The worst of the seasons, even the fluffy snow that holiday movies would be jealous of,

was no consolation. As I sat in the traditional seat facing out into the park, I wondered if my

negativity was purely due to Rory’s absence or was it something that had been present all along? I

could sense it gradually seeping into all the cracks of my life, taking over the small bits of happiness

that I experienced.

I didn’t know this yet, but it was depression. It felt like I was drowning, being dragged under an

enormous weight where I couldn’t breathe; strong hands covering my body, suffocating me and not

letting me escape, but just left to writher and struggle.

I must have been imagining myself being pulled under and slowly sinking, because as a voice

echoed toward me, I realized my face was tense in agony.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Relaxing, I called back to the voice belonging to the person whom I couldn’t see.

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“Yeah, I’m okay.”

A soccer ball was now rolling towards me, coming to a standstill a few meters away. A boy

around my age came chasing after it.

“You sure? You looked like you were in a lot of pain.” His shouting now lowered considerably.

“Oh, it was nothing, really,” I tried reassuring him, “Was just was remembering something sad,

you know, like when you read a sad book, or see something that gets to you...” I drifted off vaguely,

not sure where this was heading.

Looking puzzled for a moment, he reached down and picked up his soccer ball and placed it under

his left arm. He decided to play along though.

“Yeah, yeah. Now I know what you mean. Like that movie ‘The Pursuit of Happyness’? With

Will Smith? I don’t admit this, and will deny it if you tell anyone but, that movie always gets to me,

shed a few tears you know?” He laughed softly.

As he sat down next to me, a name came to me immediately and I remembered where I had seen

him before.

“Raegan.”

“Ahaha, you know who I am, then? Good job, Sherlock!”

I, too, joined in laughing this time, noticing that for once it wasn’t just for politeness.

He continued to chat away to me and, somehow, my mind let me respond intelligently, yet still

study him at the same time. His headphones were hanging from his neck as per usual and his short

black hair was carelessly spiked to one side. He was also much taller than me, even taller than Rory;

it was a trait that I loved. His smile though…

It was infectious and adorable. It made it impossible for me to contain my own.

His name was ringing extremely clear in my mind now, so it confused me how I hadn’t known it

at all those times I had previously been with him. Being my usual self, I hadn’t realized that –like

always– I had shuddered against the weather without noticing it, and like déjà vu the boy I was with

offered me their coat. But this time it was a different boy and a different coat. This boy’s was

warmer, lined with beige faux fur and the outside was a dull red plaid. It had those long string tassels

coming out of the hoodie loops as well and I found my fingers instinctively twirling them around and

around. Sneaking a shy glance at him, I saw that he was watching me.

“You’re thinking again, aren’t you?” he asked.

“What makes you think that?” I said.

“You are fidgeting, like you always do.”

His comment took me back, how did he know that?

“You must be quite an observer then.” It was a statement, not a question.

“You are an interesting person to observe, Paige.”

74

The moment he spoke my name, the way it sounded coming from his lips, I was done.

75

WINTER

2010

76

CONTINUED

The switch was flicked and the light turned on. The fireworks had finally burst into the sky, the

fire was ignited. The bombs were exploding. Epiphany, memories connected, faces were flashing

past my eyes, the spark was created, and the wires were joined. Recognition, I remembered.

He was Rory...

He is Rory...

I am with Rory...

I was with Rory...?

The bus rumbled on down the hill, past my view and out of sight. Gone. All that was left was a

pale cloud of exhaust hardly visible against the harsh rain. There was no point in chasing, my legs no

match for the engine of the bus. How had I missed its arrival? I was so deep in the story that my eyes

had glazed over, my mind lost in its own memories.

I had done it again and this time the sounding of a car horn brought me back. Looking up towards

the headlights that trapped me like a stunned deer, I squinted to see the driver past the shocking

brightness.

Coldness filled my body, freezing me more than the literal chill that filled the surrounding.

Staring daggers at me, his face the same each time the wiper blades whipped past, his hands gripped

the steering wheel so tightly the knuckles on each as white as ivory. As I slowly approached the

passenger door, Raegan’s eyes never moved, his posture seeming even more rigid as I took a seat

inside.

I was used to his yells, his ranting, the endless arguments but this silence, this behavior altogether,

scared me. There was a lifetime of difference between this lack of conversation and that of what had

occurred between Rory and I only moments ago.

The wait to find a way home had seemed forever, yet the ride back to the small house Raegan

rented rang true and was over within three quarters of an hour, thankfully. We both knew that no

explanation was needed when we stepped into the house – me trailing behind him like his well-

trained puppy. It wasn’t the first time that the same reason had aggravated him. I hadn’t been home

77

from work on time, he failed to pick up his phone then blames me each time that he has to come and

find me at the bus stop. It makes him furious, makes me believe that it is all my fault.

Before he had a chance to confront me in the bedroom I hurried to the bathroom and locked the

door. It had been my idea to install the deadlock earlier that month, one of the best decisions I had

made since moving in.

I sat on top of the toilet seat. It hadn’t sunk in yet. I had been talking to Rory – the guy I hadn’t

seen in nearly 4 years. Tracking backwards through closed eyes, flickers of acknowledgement were

apparent, clues that I had missed but my mind had stored: He hadn’t talked, his eyes were the

brightest emerald that I had only seen on one person before and the same eyes had looked at me with

such knowing and longing. Now it seemed so obvious that it had been Rory all along, yet I had been

so ignorant, missing what had been right in front of me.

Deciding to take a shower while Raegan gathered dinner, I had another excuse to avoid him,

hoping to not make it so obvious bu,t as soon as I reopened the door and let the steam out, I didn’t

even have time to shut it behind me before him was upon me.

“I made you dinner,” he stated.

“I thought I could smell something delicious. Thank you, Honey,” my smile feeling forced and

out of place.

“I think that you should get a ride home with Brad from now on,” suggested Raegan, trying his

best to sound casual.

“Brad? But I wasn’t that late, you know it’s only in this bad weather that this happens,” I tried

pleading gently. I knew I wouldn’t get a choice but I wanted to at least try getting out of riding home

with Brad, who was a complete sleaze but Raegan’s close friend.

“I will ring him later. Now go eat up before it goes cold,” he ordered, ending the conversation. I

complied and went and sat at the table in front of the food.

As soon as the dishes were stacked into the dishwasher, I excused myself to go to bed, but as I

tried walking past him he grabbed my arm.

“And if I ever see you with another guy like that again, don’t think that you will be staying in this

house anymore, got it?” his voice was strong and dominating.

All I could do was nod, no sound wanting to be forced out of my mouth. I tried to hide my

whimper.

I scrunched my knees up under my chin and laid on the far edge of the bed for hours, my eyes

wide awake and soon Raegan was beside me and fast asleep.

The time ticked by slowly but soon it was so late that I was sure he wouldn’t awaken. Getting up

and wrapping my thin robe around me, I walked on the tips of my feet to the other side of the room.

Quickly, my fingers laced over the spines of the books that lined the bookshelf opposite the bed, in

78

search of the one with thickest width. My eyes faulted against the dim shadows that protruded from

behind the curtains, produced by the moonlight, and now I was relying on touch alone. Tipping the

book out of its hold, I held it in both hands and snuck out of the small bedroom.

Flipping through page by page, straining to read the tiny print, I settled on scrutinizing the six

pages of residents under ‘D’. Locating the surname that I had been looking for, I brought my other

hand up to rest on the bench in front of me. The phone that was cradled in the palm of my hand

shone, reflecting pale light onto the ceiling, spooking me. Taking a hesitative glance behind me, the

door that led to the bedroom remained shut so I willed myself to press those buttons.

I decided to head outside first, wanting to do anything to prevent Raegan from waking. The

person on the other end of the phone picked up after the third ring,

“Who the hell is ringing me at 1:14 in the bloody morning!?” shouted a male who was obviously

very angry.

“I am so sorry to bother you sir, but I was just wondering if you possibly knew someone called

Rory?” I asked, becoming very timid.

“Rory? No, I don’t know anyone named that. Now let me sleep!” All I was left with was the dial

tone buzzing in my ear.

Sighing I wasn’t ready to give up yet. There were plenty more Davis numbers to get through that

night.

At least twenty minutes had passed before I finally reached a woman who had enough patience to

kindly hear me out.

“Rory, as in Rory Davis?” she asked, her voice velvet from the sleep I had woken her from.

“Yes! That’s who I am looking for!”

“Well… he is my nephew,” she hesitated.

Rory’s aunty? My smile grew even wider. “I am an old friend of his. Would you by chance know

how I could get in touch with him?” I asked.

“Well, I haven’t seen him since last time he was in Washington, but I think that he is studying at

the university in Boston. Does that help at all?” She replied.

“That is perfect, thank you so much!”

“No problem, Sweetie. Well goodnight then, and tell him I say hello if you do catch up with him,”

she said before she hung up.

I had found him!

Elated, I tiptoed back inside the house, trying to miss the creaking floorboards as I placed my

phone back on its charger. Taking my hair out its messy bun that it had been in all day, I settled back

down on my side of the bed next to the still-sleeping Raegan and, as I pulled the covers closer, I

drifted off dreaming of tomorrow.

79

SPRING

2012

80

EPILOGUE

It was the last box in the back of the truck and as the removalist passed it to me, I absentmindedly

started lugging it towards the new house and up the foreign garden path, dodging the overhanging

flowers that were creeping along the fence. Seeing a letter in the shiny new letterbox that was built

into the fence post, I placed the heavy box by my feet and bent down low to reach the protruding

envelope. It was still a small shock to me when I peered down and didn’t see my name printed on the

front. Well it was my name of course; it had just been… adjusted. It had been several weeks since

the wedding yet still I didn’t register. A spark of happiness filled my insides as I still reveled over the

reunion that had occurred 2 years ago, overwhelmed that a simple action had snowballed into what

was now my new life.

The day I had introduced Rory to both my parents officially as my boyfriend was surprising, both

of them wrapping their arms around him, confining him in a tight embrace; I mostly think that they

were just relieved to see me so happy, after my years of suffering the wrath of depression. It took

many months to sum up the strength needed to deal with my doomed relationship with Raegan, but

through Rory’s wisdom and comfort at my side, I managed. As my ex walked in the door as I had

just finished packing the boxes that contained my belongings, I swear I could hear my heartbeat over

the sound of his voice, the methodical thud booming in my ears. He yelled, thrashed out at the wall

and stormed out, but thankfully he was never one to lay a hand on me. The following night I boldly

took refuge in Rory’s dorm room. No questions were asked as my body let me fall asleep as soon as I

laid down, his arms around me to keep me warm.

Having the courage to do that gave me immense freedom, my whole being feeling younger and

more passionate for life than ever. It was the week after that when we decided to try our own

relationship.

In those long amounts of time spent together, my knowledge of Rory’s childhood grew, my heart

breaking for him as I heard the struggles of growing up without the gift of speech. Listening to him

share about what had happened since he had left Brighton also unexpectedly got to me, as I longed to

have had kept in touch and been a part of his life. If I had, would our present be much different?

It was a warm day, the 16th, when he told me to close my eyes and cautiously led me to his

favorite childhood park. As I was signaled by a touch on the arm to open my eyes and saw him

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kneeling before me, one hand grasping my arm and the most gorgeous diamond ring in the other,

tears came quickly and I couldn’t speak; it had been the last thing I had expected when he asked me

to visit his family in Washington D.C. that weekend. He waited patiently as it all sunk in, but

eventually he cleared his throat and I realized that an answer was needed on my part. Yes. Of course

the answer was yes. It always had been, it was always going to be.

His family threw the biggest dinner for us that night. As soon as we approached the huge family

home I instantly knew that they had known too. He had the most amazing family, so warm and

welcoming. His dad had the firmest handshake, his whole hand engulfing mine, it was safe and

fatherly.

I was the one who suggested that both my mother and his organize the wedding, knowing this

would give them the chance they missed out on with Jess and Bianca. It was a form of closure, I

guess. Maybe it was compensation for the lows that I had experienced beforehand, but whatever it

was, the wedding was the best day of my life by far and it was the first step at beating my illness.

The image of seeing Dad in his best suit was imprinted in my mind, my overflowing joy at having

my own father there to walk me down the aisle just made everything that little bit more perfect.

Barely a year before, we weren’t even sure he would be able to leave the hospital.

A small gathering was preferred and from the moment we joined hands at the altar, Rory never let

me go until we were seated in first class headed for Europe and my love for him was at its strongest

in that very moment.

I remember the discussion on the way home; tired, tanned and filled with a world’s palette of

exotic food, I talked in hushed tones as he tapped away at his new electronic tablet. What now?

Where would the Davis’s start their future? I wanted Boston; to be with my family as leaving the

both of them alone, even this long after Jess’s passing, still disconcerted me. He wanted to keep me

happy but I could tell he wanted to be close to his own family, too. We settled for the middle and

made New York our own.

Buying our new house was not only a special day in itself, but it was the 1st year anniversary of

Dad’s full recovery from his tumor and, in celebration, we set out our old picnic blanket and candles

on the fresh carpet of our empty, two bedroom flat and ate takeaway Chinese with my parents.

Pocketing the long envelope, I once again started lugging the cardboard box filled with our

possessions towards the door, but as I stopped in the doorway, a glint reflected in the peripheral of

my vision. Checking over my shoulder I saw that an item must have fell from the top of the stuffed

box and was now lying in the middle of the grass. Backtracking to pick it up, more memories came

back.

It was a warm night as Rory and I spent the night camping out in his backyard. We were a few

months into our newfound relationship and on nights like these we would spend hours laying side by

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side, our arms touching faintly, watching the dark skies and not saying a word. Eventually I would

fall asleep, not even conscious as he would scoop me up and carry me inside. As I woke the next

morning in the guest room, I welcomed the sense of wonder as my mind tried to understand how I

had gotten there.

I had spent so long feeling worthless and small, every day and conversation a huge effort, trying

to please Raegan and his friends, trying to not get in the way. Now that that was completely behind

me, it is hard to understand that it is all so much easier with Rory, and the knowledge that this is

what I deserved, could have had all along, made me feel foolish.

At least things were looking up now; we were financially stable at last. Rory had a job that he loved,

designing houses for an architecture company. And me? Well, I was finally heading to university,

starting next month. I had finally willed up the nerve to quit my job at Starbucks as soon as Rory had

found his job and, with the little savings I had managed to store away, I enrolled at NYU. After

much consideration though, we both decided open access education was best fitted for our situation

though, knowing that the convenience of staying at home would be for the best over the next coming

months. Well for me anyway. This way, while Rory was at work, I could still spend the time to get

us settled into our new house, making it into our home. As soon as I was qualified we would have

the double income and more flexibility.

Thankfully, Mom wasn’t surprised at all when I chose interior decorating over anything in the

medical field; after Jess and Dad, we really have tried our hardest to avoid any association with

hospitals and doctors. This way I could unleash my creativity in a huge way, yet support myself in

more ways than a simple artist ever could. The feel of a paintbrush in my hand, or new carpet being

laid down, the distraction of suiting to someone else’s needs other than my own, was a stress relief

like no other. Especially painting, as it was something I chose to turn to while dating Raegan and

while recovering from my illness; my emotions free to come out on the page, so not to leak out into

my real life and wreak more havoc than need be.

I shook my head, but not violently. It was just enough to shake me from my thoughts and soon my

front door was coming back into focus and I could hear the thuds of approaching feet. Rory had

come out of the house with Mom trailing behind him.

“Honey, what are you doing? You know you can’t be heaving those heavy boxes around! Here,

let Rory take it… he’s got the upper arm strength for it anyway.” She laughed an airy laugh, so light

it could have floated by in the wind.

They were always worrying, watching me, their anxiety seeming comical to me. But I let the box

be taken from out of my arms, into Rory’s and before I knew it, he had dashed inside, dropped it off

in its right place and come back to where I was out on the lawn. Scooping me into his arms this time,

he traced the line of my jaw down to my collarbone with his lips. He didn’t have to write anything to

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tell me what he was trying to say. I had to look after myself, it wasn’t just me anymore. He was also

stating the fact that he would be there for me, every step of the way.

As I got carried into the kitchen I heard my mother sigh. It was filled with not only happiness, but

ease and pride. Her daughter was having the life she had always wanted for her.

Taking it as her cue to head back home to her own husband, she slipped outside, not making a

sound as she latched the door behind her.

Oblivious to the car driving off in the corner of my eye, I leaned up, placed my hands on Rory’s

broad chest and kissed him. As he stared back at me I could feel the smile on his lips, the pulse of his

racing heart, in perfect synchronization with my own. His hands encircled my stomach.

We were home.

The storm had passed.

I had seen through the snow.

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