The Truth About Life

-Audrey: Chapter Twelve-

I'm in the hammock in our backyard. The trees sway gently in the light breeze. The sun is warm. The perfect summer day.

Chase left for Milton's early this morning, like he does most days this summer. I'm happy he found something to ground him, to keep him busy and not thinking about his addiction.  But, I on the other hand, have never felt more lost.

Ever since I overheard my parents talking the other day, and finding out my dad left because he wanted a new family, I'm just having a hard time wrapping my head around that.

Is there more to the story, to the reason my dad left? Probably. But I can't comprehend how on earth a parent could leave their kids no matter what. That I'm feeling hurt is an understatement. 

I'm lost, I completely don't know who I am, who my dad is anymore. I mean, obviously I know he's my dad, but I'm not sure I ever knew who he really was.
The dad I knew would never leave me, or Chase or my mom.

He was dependable, going to work in the morning and coming home to us that night. He would take us to the Burger Shack for our birthdays, and not disrespect that memory by taking his new family there. He would "boop" my nose every night while tucking me in. He would swing Chase around and around until they were both dizzy, then grab his hands and do it again.

I'm having a hard time breathing all of a sudden. The hammock feels so claustrophobic and I start to scramble and kick to get out. My fingers and toes get caught in the weave and I fall headfirst onto the ground.

I lie there in the grass, a little disoriented. The leaves on the trees are fluttering and twisting as the breeze catches them. The sunlight filtering through the branches make distorted patterns on my skin. Chase and I used to love climbing this tree.

I remember when I was in third grade and Chase was in second, he dared me to climb to the top. I made it pretty high up the tree with my, "I'll show him" attitude. But when I stopped and looked way down to the ground at Chase, I became terrified. I instantly started screaming. I had my skinny little arms and legs wrapped around the trunk, hanging on for dear life.

Chase had gone running in the house yelling for dad. And like dad's do, he came and rescued me. I thought him a hero that day. He put Neosporin and band-aids on my scrapes caused by the tree bark, and he let me eat ice cream before dinner that night.

I close my eyes tight at the memories, hot tears leaking out of my eyes and into my hairline.

I hear voices coming from the yard next door. I roll over onto my stomach, watch the commotion going on over there, the people going in and out. The house is a white farm style house, it's big and rambling and honestly pretty awesome. It's been vacant for quite some time. With peeling paint, broken windows and a sagging porch.

I noticed at the beginning of summer construction workers coming and going, fixing up the place. It's really a fixer-upper for sure. I wonder what the inside looks like now that it's being redone.

Chase and I used to sneak into that house all the time. We call it "The Hatchet House." There's a rumor, I'm not sure who started it, that a woman and her child took refuge there during a horrible rainstorm. That night, while they were huddled up together sleeping, an intruder happened upon the mother and son. The man, at first, was just seeking shelter like the duo snuggled together in the corner was. When he happened upon the mother and her son, he pulled out his hatchet and chopped them to bits.

I was scared to death to go into that house at first, but when Chase dared me to, of course I had to do it! Everytime we snuck in, I felt chills racing up my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Those adventures were always delightfully spooky.