Whatever Happens

by Smeltzer, Micalea

  My mouth downturns, wondering what his problem is, but I have other things to worry about than my new un-named neighbor.

  Knowing I won’t be getting any sleep tonight, I sneak from my room and get a head start on more unpacking.

  At least it’s something my parents won’t have to do come morning.

  * * *

  “You did all this?”

  I jolt upright from the spot I passed out, on the floor of the family room.

  “Y-Yeah,” I stutter, rubbing sleep from my eyes. The sun has completely risen and I smell coffee coming from the kitchen. My mom stands at the entrance to the room with her robe wrapped around her slender body. Her eyes shift around the room, taking in the décor items added to the built in shelves, her beloved fake plants I tell her only gathers dust, among other odds and ends. This isn’t the only room that saw my touch during the early hours. I’m surprisingly productive when I’m running on adrenaline.

  “Did you sleep?” Her eyes narrow on me and I know she doesn’t need me to answer. “You need to rest, Vi.”

  “I’m fine, Mom.” I stand up from the floor, placing my palms on the couch to give me leverage. “Can I have some of that coffee?”

  She tosses her arm over her shoulder. “Go to bed.”

  “It’s morning,” I argue.

  She pinches the bridge of her nose. “You have to sleep.”

  Tell me something I don’t know.

  “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

  She flinches and my mouth parts in horror, realizing what I’ve said. In my tiredness my ill-placed joke slipped out of my mouth.

  “Mom, I didn’t mean—”

  She holds up a hand, her silent command for me to shut up. She walks away without a word and I know I’ve hurt her. It was unintentional but that doesn’t fix the mistake.

  Wringing my worn pajama shirt in my hands I bite my lip in an effort to hold back tears. I can’t do anything right anymore.

  As quietly as I can, I slip upstairs to my bedroom and then the attached bath. I get into the shower, not even marveling over the shiny pearlescent looking tiles. When I finish I blow-dry my hair hastily, braiding it sloppily down my right shoulder. Dressing in a simple pair of jean shorts and a striped tank top I grab my purse, sliding it across my body before slipping my feet into a pair of flip-flops.

  “Where are you going?” My dad questions as I pass him in the hall on the way to the stairs.

  “Thought I’d go explore.”

  He tilts his head. “I thought I could make my world famous French toast for breakfast. I have a few days before I start work. I wanted to make the most of it.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I’ll have some when I get back.”

  His face falls and he reaches for my arm when I start to walk away. I pause, my eyes reluctantly meeting his.

  “I love you, you know that, right?”

  “Of course, Dad. I love you, too.”

  His lips are downturned and his light hold on my arm doesn’t lessen. A war rages in his eyes and finally he murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

  I flinch and he lets me go, hastily turning away but not before I see the pain on his face.

  The pain we all keep hiding, pushing down into the deepest pits of our souls, until one day it’s bound to turn into a black hole and swallow all of us alive.

  I reach the bottom of the stairs and feel like I’m suffocating.

  “I’ll be back in an hour,” I yell out, and don’t wait for a response as I make a break for the garage. Inside I find my yellow bike with wicker basket tucked beside the wall amid boxes. I fish it out and one of the boxes falls. I hear a crash, but I don’t stop to see what’s broken.

  Pressing the button on the garage door I make my escape.

  I wanted to leave anyway, but now I have to.

  Hopping on my bike I pedal as fast as I can away from the house and neighborhood of cookie cutter perfect homes.

  It doesn’t matter how many feet, and eventually miles, I put behind me. I can’t escape what I’m running from, because it’s the memories and they live inside me.

  Chapter Four

  My legs ache with tiredness and I finally stop, leaning my bike against the outside of a bookstore. The name etched into the glass front says That’s My Story and in smaller font beneath says and I’m sticking to it. I smile to myself, thinking it’s a cute name and catchphrase for a bookstore. An old fashioned sign hangs on the door saying OPEN.

  I push it open and step inside. The smell of books—crisp paper and ink—hits my nostrils. I’ve never been a huge reader, but I’m not opposed to it.

  The store is old and inviting, and while I see newer books, it has the musky scent of older volumes as well.

  “Whatcha lookin’ for, missy?”

  I jump at the sound of the voice and turn, spotting an older gentleman behind an ancient looking register. Suspenders wrap around his shoulders and he sports a handlebar mustache.

  “Uh … not sure,” I reply.

  “Well, have a look around and if you need help let me know.”

  I raise a brow, because he looks ancient and I’m pretty sure I’m the one who should be offering him help.

  I stroll through the aisles, gliding my fingers over spines and reading the titles. I don’t know what compelled me here, but something about the store feels right in an unexplainable way.

  I pull a random book off a shelf, flipping through the pages before I replace it.

  I pause in front of a book titled Moons. My heart beats faster as I grab it. The cover is speckled with stars with a large moon in the center that wraps around onto the spine. When I open it I realize it has details and information on all the known moons in the universe. A part of me wants to put the book back, but it feels like too big of a coincidence. I’ve never been a believer in the dead speaking from beyond, but it feels like Luna wanted me to find this.

  Tucking the book under my arm, I stroll through the small store a few more minutes before I make my purchase.

  “See you again,” the older man says with a smile, handing me the bag.

  “Mhmm,” I hum, doubting I’ll be back.

  Outside, I tuck the bag into my basket and ride a little further until I spot a café. I run inside and purchase a smoothie, deciding if I don’t head home now my parents will have the entire state’s police force searching for me.

  The ride home feels like it takes forever, but I know it can’t be more than twenty minutes. They’ll be mad at me for being gone so long, but they understand the need to get away as well. We’re all trying to escape the pain, like we can outrun it.

  I put in the code for the garage door and it whirls as it goes up. I tuck my bike back against the wall, noticing someone picked up the box I knocked over.

  It’s labeled with Photos on the side in my dad’s messy handwriting. Grabbing a knife left on another box I open it up, searching for what I broke.

  I find it at the bottom, a framed photo of Luna and me. I’m in my cheer uniform, smiling wide for the camera with my arm wrapped around her. She’s smiling, but her eyes are sad. There’s a crack now in the glass, cutting between the two of us, shattering the connection. It’s one of the last photos we took together besides the random selfie. I remember the day well. It was the final football game of the season. I begged her to come since she hadn’t attended a single game. After all my pestering she reluctantly agreed. I had no idea at the time that she avoided the games because of the group of girls in her eighth grade class who attended every single one. I didn’t know they bullied her. I didn’t know I needed to protect her. And when I smiled at the camera, hugging my sister to my side, I had no idea only a few short months later I’d be saying goodbye forever.

  The door opens and in my startle I drop the frame on the floor. It shatters further.

  “You can’t run off like that,” my mom scolds, descending the stairs into the garage. She bends and picks up the frame. The broken glass has damaged the photo beneath. Her fingers hover above
Luna’s now distorted face. “I loved this photo.”

  I brush past her. “I hate it.” The words are whispered under my breath. She doesn’t hear me as she picks up the small pieces of glass from the floor and removes the photo from the frame.

  I pause with my hand on the door, feeling anger rise inside me, because that stupid frame can be replaced, but not my sister’s life.

  With a shake of my head I enter the house and head to the kitchen. French toast is stacked on a plate and my dad is nowhere to be seen. I grab some for myself despite not feeling hungry.

  “You left these in your basket, Vi.” My mom breezes into the pristine kitchen and deposits my green smoothie and the bag with my book on the table beside me.

  “Thanks.”

  She looks at me sadly, nibbling on her bottom lip as she debates saying something.

  After a long moment she shakes her head and leaves.

  Avoidance. It’s the one thing the three of us have in common right now.

  I wanted to talk about Luna’s death in the beginning, about my grief, and the burden of feeling like it was my fault. That I should’ve known. But neither of them could take it. Now, as the months pass and our grief progresses none of us knows how to broach the subject.

  It’s a difficult thing having someone you love be there one second and gone the next.

  Death is a natural part of life, but there’s nothing normal about a fourteen-year-old girl hanging herself in her closet. I think for us, because her death was her choice it’s harder to accept. Not because suicide is wrong, but because we should’ve known. Seen the signs. Done something. Anything.

  But that’s the thing about depression and suicide. It’s a silent killer, slowly sucking the life out of someone you love. You don’t realize until it’s too late, and by then there’s nothing you can do.

  Chapter Five

  After unpacking for several days straight, the house comes together. It still doesn’t feel like a home to me, it’s missing the sound of laughter and happiness radiating from the walls, but it’ll do.

  There are two weeks until my senior year starts and my schedule arrives in the mail. Since I knew I wasn’t going to cheer, I signed up for classes that would give me dual credit. I figured I might as well get a jump on the whole college thing.

  “Is that your schedule?” Mom questions, blowing her bangs out of her eyes as she vigorously stirs cake batter. It’s my dad’s birthday, and even though he’s not supposed to start work until Monday he had to run to the office.

  “Yeah.” I hold it out to her and she takes it, looking it over.

  “You’re going to be busy.” She passes it back to me. “I know you can handle it.”

  She gives me an encouraging smile and I’m thankful for it, because I, on the other hand, am not sure I can do this. But I sure as hell need the distraction.

  “Need any help?” I lean my hip against the counter and swipe my finger into the batter, taking a lick.

  She swats my hand away playfully and my heart clenches, because I haven’t shared many of these carefree moments with either of my parents lately. It’s like we feel like it’s wrong to be happy or live our lives because Luna can’t.

  “You’re always welcome to help. Grab an apron.”

  She points to the pantry door and I open it up, grabbing the yellow one with sunflowers and tying it around my body.

  I turn on some music and my mom and I dance around the kitchen as we bake the cake and frost it. I pour on too many sprinkles according to her, but I mean, there’s no such thing.

  She slides the cake cover over top and pulls me into a hug. “We did good, kiddo.”

  I wrap my arms around her middle, hugging her tight. I might be seventeen, nearly eighteen, but you’re never too old to need a hug from your mom. She lays her head over top of mine. I soak in the moment, needing the comfort of human touch far more than I realized.

  She pulls away, but keeps her hands on my shoulders. “You’re a strong, beautiful, intelligent, fantastically brilliant daughter. I know I don’t say it enough, but you are.” Tears shimmer in her eyes and she turns, wiping them away. “I’m going to freshen up before your dad gets home.”

  With those parting words she heads upstairs to the master bedroom.

  I know she’s probably going to cry about Luna. I wish she’d let me be there for her, each a shoulder for the other to cry on, but we all keep acting like it’s not happening and the grief doesn’t exist.

  I wipe down the counters and hang up the apron.

  I don’t have any idea what to do with my time until school starts. I have no friends and my family is falling apart.

  Slipping on my flip-flops I kicked off when we started baking, I slide open the back door and head down the deck steps and to the meadow beyond. The grass is overgrown, and maybe I should be scared of snakes, but I’m not.

  Fear is an illusion. The only true thing in life we have to fear is ourselves.

  Beyond the meadow there’s forest. One day maybe it’ll be turned into housing, but for now I love that there’s land back there.

  I find a spot and lay down in the swaying grass, staring up at the clouds above.

  The heat from the sun warms my skin, but I don’t mind it. It’s probably not smart of me to be lying here staring straight up at the sky, but I’ve done far worse things in the past.

  “Cumulus.”

  I jolt at the sound of the male voice and sit up, turning to find the guy I spotted nights ago with the telescope next door. Up close he definitely looks to be my age. He’s tall and lanky with freckles speckled across his nose. He pushes his glasses up. I want to know what color his eyes are, but he’s not looking at me. His gaze is focused intently on the sky above.

  “W-What?” I stutter, taken off guard.

  “Cumulus.” This time he points to the clouds. “We always get the boring ones.”

  “You’re my neighbor,” I blurt. “I’m Violet.”

  His head angles down slightly toward me where I sit on the ground, but quickly darts back to the sky before he even makes eye contact. “I know. I’ve watched you.”

  Not creepy at all.

  “You’ve watched me?”

  “I’ve watched you watching me.”

  He has a fair point. I’ve spotted him at his telescope a few more times since the first, and my bedroom window that overlooks the side of his house is right across from a window in his room.

  “Do you have a name?”

  Those eyes of his that I still don’t know the color of dart over my face quickly and away. “Finn.”

  “Can you help me up, Finn?” I hold out my hand.

  Once again his eyes dash around, like they don’t want to land on one particular thing, and he starts to walk away.

  My lips part as I watch him walk back to his house. He doesn’t look back, not until the door closes behind him.

  When he sees me watching the blinds are promptly shut.

  The whole exchange was weird, but I figure something is up with him physically since I’ve seen him with a service dog, walking it around the neighborhood.

  Maybe he’s blind.

  Then how could he see the clouds, dipshit? And I’m pretty sure blind people don’t stare longingly into a telescope every night.

  I know there’s no point in trying to puzzle out my strange new neighbor, but I am insanely curious about him.

  I stand up and dust grass from my legs and clothes before I return to the house.

  Hours later, my dad arrives home and since it’s his birthday we order in Italian food from a place down the road we got a flyer for in the mail.

  My mom and I sing him happy birthday and he blows out forty-seven candles. I insisted there be forty-seven exactly. I don’t half ass birthdays.

  After we each eat a slice of cake we go our separate ways.

  When I sneak out my window at midnight my eyes immediately find Finn standing by his telescope.

  I wave.

  There’s
a flash of something white and I swear he smiles, but it’s gone too quickly for me to be sure.

  He turns his attention to his telescope and I stretch out on the sloping roof to take in the stars.

  It’s not lost on me that we’re looking at the exact same universe from very different perspectives.

  Chapter Six

  I’ve become well acquainted with the neighborhood and the surrounding city and shops.

  Surprisingly, I actually like it here. It’s picturesque, the kind of town you’d see on the front of a postcard. I think if we’d moved here for any other reason besides pure escapism I would love it even more. For now, I can’t help looking around and thinking about why we’re here.

  I pick up a sandwich and smoothie from the place I came to the day after I arrived. Sweet Greens has become a favorite of mine and I ride my bike there a few times a week to grab lunch. Biking back toward the house the wind stirs my long hair around my shoulders. I should probably cut it, but I like it how it is.

  There’s a park not far from the neighborhood and I head over there to eat my lunch. I like being outside, I always have. There’s a calmness I find in nature that I can’t discover anywhere else.

  Hopping off my bike I wheel it over to a bench beneath a shaded willow tree. A creek trickles by it. The sound is peaceful and I enjoy watching the fish and turtles.

  The frogs, not so much. The first time I stopped here one jumped on my foot. I shrieked and kicked my leg, which sent the poor frog flying.

  I grab the paper bag with my sandwich and my cup of green smoothie—full of all those healthy things we need, but hate to eat.

  I take a sip and pull out my sandwich. The park is abuzz with life. Children laughing, teens enjoying the last of summer, college kids studying, people jogging, dogs barking, and even a chaotic soccer game between a couple of guys.

  It’s all so idyllic.

  I eat my sandwich, watching the chaos of life around me. Everyone seems to be moving so fast while I’m so still.