by R. J. Groves
“Emma, are you ill?”
Get yourself together! I yelled at myself inside my head, the mess shattering into millions of pieces, leaving me staring into the eyes of the redhead who was now saying my name with an anxious voice.
I looked from Renée’s emerald eyes to Aimee’s hazel eyes, ones I had grown familiar with over the years, and then back to the green eyes again. I knew that, if I spoke, my voice would be shaking, which would cause them to worry more than they already were. I couldn’t bring myself to have them more worried about me.
I nodded slightly, sending them into silence, staring at me. No, observing me. Did I look as hurt and sick as I felt? I knew there was nothing else for me to do than to speak.
“I’m fine,” I managed, my voice wavering, not allowing me to speak anymore.
΅ ΅ ΅
“All right, Née, sit up. The nurse entrusted me with your drugs,” Fayne said, walking into the hospital room.
I propped myself painfully upright, frowning at my older brother.
“Fayne, you know I hate being called Née,” I said, throwing a pillow at him.
He laughed, sitting on the hospital chair next to me and handing over the horrible-tasting painkillers.
“No, little sis,” he said, smiling. “You hated it when you were six. Now you have just grown used to it and couldn’t care less what I call you.”
I swallowed the painkillers, pulling a face in disgust immediately after.
“Besides, it didn’t seem to bother you the last few days,” he continued.
“Fayne–” I began.
“I know, I know,” he teased. “You’ve been in too much pain.”
He rolled his eyes and poked his tongue out at me as I tugged on his straight hair. He had been using my hair straightener again. Not that it really bothered me: my hair is so curly and thick that I’m scared I would lose the straightener in it. I liked my hair straightened, but I could never get it to look good. Fayne picked the pillow off the floor and sat on the bed, leaning back with me.
“Are your friends coming around tonight?” he asked, gently nudging my shoulder.
I poked him in the ribs.
“Yes, the girl of your dreams will make her appearance,” I teased.
“Hey, I can’t help that your friend is hot,” he said. “Oh, and talkative.”
I looked at my best friend, sighing at my failed attempt at raising my eyebrow.
“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled as to whether or not he was being sarcastic.
He smiled.
“Well, I haven’t heard Aimee speak much before. But seriously–” he put his hands out in front of him. “Does Emma ever run out of things to say?”
Fayne pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them.
“She likes to explain things – a lot,” I replied, defending my friend. “Besides, she’s helping me catch up on school.”
Fayne sat silently for a moment before looking up at me. I analysed his expression. I knew this look. He wanted to say something but was hesitant about it, not wanting to hurt me. He often had this look when a conversation happened between our mother and…
“Oh, no,” I said, desperate to know that what I thought wasn’t true. “No. Fayne, no. She didn’t.”
“She did. When you were still out from the operation,” he said, resting his hand on my knee.
I groaned, throwing another pillow at the floor, wincing in pain from the sudden movement.
“Fayne, no,” I begged. “You have to talk to them – tell them not to be nice to me because they pity me. I can’t believe she did this to me again!”
Fayne put his arm around me as an unwanted tear rolled quickly down my cheek.
“Hey, relax, Née. I’ll talk to them tonight,” he said, resting my head on his chest.
“How?” I asked, wiping the tears from my face.
He rose to his feet.
“I’ll find a way. Trust me,” he replied, leaning in to kiss my forehead. “See you when you come home tonight, little sis.”
I watched him walk through the awkward hospital doors. I was so thankful that I was now the only patient in this room.
Chapter 8
Written in stone.
It was Friday once again and, just as Aimee said yesterday, we played soccer for sport. It almost seemed like the old times, before Renée came to school. The only difference was that Kane wasn’t talking to me – not like he used to. If you counted smart remarks, insults and speaking out of frustration as talking, then he did. Like our argument last Friday – it was totally unexpected, and I ended up crying because of it. As much as I would just love for him to talk to me again, to look at me with those eyes, sometimes I think that it is so much better that he isn’t talking to me at all. I start thinking how much I want him to talk to me again and, as soon as he does, I wish he hadn’t.
Once again, there were not enough girls to play soccer, so the boys from last week joined in again. We played the same teams as last week simply because everyone seemed to like the teams they were on. Except for me. I hated being on the same team as Kane. I really didn’t think I would be able to handle it if he did the same thing as last week.
I would have given anything to be on the same team as my best friend, but I knew this wasn’t possible. There was no way, especially in the mood our teacher was in, that I would be allowed to change over or swap with someone. For the first time in my life, I dreaded playing sport. For the first time, I wasn’t in the mood to play sport or to be physically active in any possible way.
I tried my best to make the game enjoyable for anyone and everyone, including Kane. I thought that maybe the only way I could do this was by sitting out for the whole game – something I never did, not even for a moment. But I couldn’t.
The whistle blew and the ball was kicked to me. I straight away kicked it in a direction – any direction – and another member of my team scored the first goal. He scored the first goal. Everyone in our team except for me rushed over to him, chest-bumping and high-fiving him.
That should be me, I thought. It always is.
I couldn’t stop my body heaving once – it completely disagreed with me not being the one to score the first goal. Or the second, or the third. James and Kane were both the ones to score the goals for the team today. It felt so wrong for me, knowing the two guys on my team were the ones to score every single goal in what should be an all-girl’s game.
Thanks to James, I was pulled back into reality when he ran over to where I was standing after he had scored the fourth goal for our team.
“Surrey, what’s going on? Your head’s not in the game,” he said, tapping my head to emphasise his point.
I thought I could hear some concern in his voice. He had noticed something was different and wanted to see if I was all right.
“Nothing. I’m fine,” I lied.
“No offense, Em,” he said, “but you don’t look it. Is something up?”
He rested his arm on my shoulder as we heard a cheer from the opposing team when they scored their fourth goal.
“I just don’t feel like it today, James,” I replied honestly.
As soon as I said this, a look of unbelief swept over his face.
“Surrey, you always feel like it – I know you do,” he said. “We need you in the game, no matter what Markus thinks.”
My body shook at the sound of his surname.
James rarely called people by their first names, even if someone didn’t like it. But he had a way of doing it that would make you like it. Or, at least, get used to it. He also seemed to be neutral about anything going on amongst our class, our group, always considering arguments and fights pointless.
“It has nothing to do with Kane,” I lied, defending myself from anything he may have thought about why I wasn’t in the game.
“Then there should be no reason why you’re not playing,” he said, dodging to get the ball. “Come on, Emma, this one’s yours.”
He passe
d the ball to me and practically made me run down the field and shoot the goal. I felt good about it, though – it lightened my mood and I was back in the game again.
Kicking my first goal for the game, the rest of my team rushed over to me, doing what we usually did whenever we scored a goal.
“It’s good to have you back,” James said to me, standing by my side.
I noticed that I hadn’t high-fived one person in our team. I looked in the direction of where he was standing. He was looking at me, refusing to come over to the rest of the team. He looked nowhere near as happy as everyone else was. A stab of pain shot through me. How could he be annoyed at me for getting my first goal for the game, when he had already scored?
But his eyes weren’t just looking at me. I followed his gaze and was surprised to find it alternating between me and James. James, who was standing next to me, resting his arm on my shoulder once again.
“Surrey, party at mine tonight – be there.”
The final year of high school basically consisted of a large group of teenagers who survived on no more than five hours of sleep each night, who ate piles of junk food, and partied every other week. Everyone who was anyone lived on pure adrenalin and were always up for a soccer game or playing a sport of any kind and attending parties with little to no notice. I happened to be one of these teenagers. I not only socialised with the “cool” group, but along with Aimee and, I assume, our newest member, Renée, I was also a part of this group.
This particular party was at James’ house. I wanted to look forward to going to it so much, knowing that every party at his house is a blast. In fact, nothing would normally stop me from attending those parties. They were a part of me, a part of who I was. But I felt my heart sink as I remembered the promise I had made to Renée last night.
“I will come by after school tomorrow,” I said to her. “When you’re out of hospital.”
I remembered the look she had on her face – the colour returning slowly to her cheeks, her hair still looking curly but partly flattened from laying for so long, her green eyes radiating a colour that was so deep, so much stronger than every other time I had seen her. She had clearly, behind the scenes, felt that she had found a friend who wasn’t going to leave her.
I didn’t have enough time to tell James that I wouldn’t be able to go to his party that night. He was already running around the campus, telling everyone in sight to be there. He passed Aimee, repeating what he said to me. A toothy smile crossed her face as she walked over to me, almost bouncing.
“Where do you want to meet for the party?” she asked when she got to me.
I looked at Aimee, surely she couldn’t have forgotten our promise – sorry, my promise – to our newest friend.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, seeing the dull look on my face.
“Aimee, we were going to see Renée tonight,” I said. “At her house, remember? She’s coming out of hospital today.”
“Oh,” she replied, a look of disappointment covering her face.
I knew this was going to be a sacrifice for her. She loved James’ parties as much as I did. I surrendered. I couldn’t ruin another event for my best friend.
“If you want to go to the party, you can,” I said. “I’ll go visit Renée.”
A smile crossed her face.
“Oh, thank you, Em, you’re the best!” she said, giving me a hug, and running in the direction of another group of girls, probably to talk about what they’d wear.
“You’re welcome,” I muttered to myself, turning in the direction of Renée’s house.
I took a big breath as I prepared myself for the one thing I should have been doing on a regular basis for the past two years. I felt like turning back. I thought I wasn’t prepared for it – that I never could be, no matter how many deep breaths I took. I tried to press forward. It was the only way I was going to get through this properly. The light, delicate raindrops fell from the forming clouds above and onto my bare arms. My mother would have never let me out of the house without a jumper in this weather. That is, if she was home.
I could feel the cool breeze teasing me, tempting me to leave. But I couldn’t. I had already come this far. I couldn’t turn back now. I took one more breath and started taking slow, small footsteps towards my father’s grave. I felt empty, like this wasn’t going to change anything. I finally came to his grave and stood silently, my hands folded and head slightly bowed, in front of the unique gravestone with my father’s name on it.
“Hey, Daddy,” I started, knowing I couldn’t turn back anymore.
I didn’t know what to say. I’d never done this before, ever.
“Daddy, can you hear me?”
Silence.
I felt childish, stupid. I probably looked it, too. But there was no turning back. Not now.
“I remembered your birthday today.”
Silence.
I felt a single tear mingle with the droplets of rain on my left cheek.
“I–I’m sorry, Daddy, that it took me so long to come see you,” I stuttered. “I’m sorry I never came back after your funeral. I’m sorry that, even then, I left as soon as I could. I look around at all the other graves, dressed with flowers, bouquets and even letters, and I look at yours, and there’s nothing. Your gravestone is lonely. It hurts me, Daddy, because I know I could have changed that, from the very first day you were put in this dreaded place. I need you right now, more than I ever have. I wonder, sometimes, if you can hear me – if you can see me. I wonder if you even think it’s worthwhile anymore to pay any attention to me, with all the stupid things I do and the messes I get myself into.”
I paused a moment, willing myself to go on.
“I want to say I have no regrets, but I do.” I felt a tear slide down my cheek. “I regret everything right now. I regret not knowing any better, for not learning from my mistakes. I regret all the times I yelled at you and told you that you wouldn’t understand. I regret what happened to you. Losing you. I regret not coming sooner, but I guess, when it comes down to it, I regret most that I never got a chance to say goodbye.”
I could feel my heart breaking.
“I have hated myself for so long for what happened to you. It was all my fault that you died. I know I’m not the only one to blame me for your death. Gosh, I was so selfish! If I hadn’t gone to that stupid party, then you would still be here. But–”
I broke off, my tears stopping me from speaking for a moment. I looked into the distance, the hills faded from the barrier of tears and rain. The rain was much heavier now and the wind became harsh and icy. I dropped to my knees, pulling myself in the tightest position I could manage. I forced my gaze back to his grave.
“I never forgave him, Daddy,” I pushed through my sobs. “The drunk who killed you. He died in hospital, three days after the accident. He was so stupid! Did he not know that he could cause this much devastation? You always told me not to hold grudges, but Daddy, I can’t help it. He ruined my life by taking my father away from me. He deserved to die. He’s buried not far from you, either. In this very cemetery.”
I looked in the direction where his grave was.
“Daddy, I miss you so much. I wish you were still here. After you died, everything started falling apart. Mum became more distant. I sometimes wonder if she cares. Kane broke up with me, too – the one person I thought could understand how I felt. But it kills me inside, Dad, when I see him with Renée. It feels like he’s taking advantage of her, and that he never truly had feelings for me. He says he still cares, but I can’t believe him,” I continued. “And Aimee is even starting to separate herself from me. We’re supposed to be best friends, through thick and thin. And Renée, a new chance for me to make things right, is in hospital, and just had her appendix removed. I completely ruined my fresh chance and acted horribly towards her.”
I wiped some mud from his gravestone, allowing my fingertips to trace the letters of his name.
“Mum is out of town again,” I continued, w
iping away fresh tears. “She says it’s for work, but I don’t know if I believe her. Yesterday, I saw her get out of a car with a man I’d never seen before. I saw him walk her to the door. But that’s all I saw. I’m scared she’s trying to replace you. I’m scared she doesn’t know how she feels and I’m scared she’s afraid to admit the truth – whatever that is.”
I let out a sigh, my heart aching for what I couldn’t ever have back.
“I really need a father’s touch right now. I’ve been too long by myself. I need to be held how you held me when I was little. I need to be pulled into those warm, loving arms and told that it’s going to be all right, because my daddy was there to look after me. I need the unconditional love that only my daddy can give me.”
I blinked though the tears that were streaming down my face and disabling my vision. Memories of my dad started flooding my mind. My body was weak and trembling uncontrollably.
“For so long I… I shut you out and pushed you away,” I continued. “I thought you were going to be around forever. I avoided coming here to see your grave, because I thought it would make me weak. I heard that it can bring consolation to talk to deceased people that you care about. I’m not sure if I believe it or not. I wanted to be strong, because I know you would want me to be strong. But I’m starting to wonder if being strong is my weakness. Is that possible? I’m not sure what to believe anymore. So many people are telling me so many different things.”
I sat in silence for a moment longer. I could feel the iciness of the rain and wind. My teeth were chattering and my body shaking uncontrollably. I looked up to the clouds above me.
“I know you’re up there somewhere, Daddy,” I said. “I want to know that you think about me and miss me as much as I miss you. I would give anything – anything – to see you again, to see that little piece of Heaven where you are looking back at me. I can’t do this alone anymore. I need you. I love you, Daddy, and I always will.”
I sobbed more deeply this time. I still felt empty. I felt guilty and lonely. It had started getting darker much more quickly now, but at least the rain had begun to ease. I attempted to control my sobs and tried to steady myself as I stood to leave. I took one more look at my father’s grave and whispered the conclusion of my monologue.