Duplicity [h.s]

98

Aven Brooks

I start to laugh, ironically.

A full laugh—that is. It's the type of laugh that makes my head toss back and my eyes pinch shut. The type of laugh that you can feel along my cheekbones. Why am I laughing? I have no fucking idea. Maybe it's the drugs I'm still on. Or maybe it's the fact my life has become so god damn theatrical that I'm actually starting to understand I just have shit luck.

3000 miles did she say?

It's probably good that I'm laughing. I've done nothing but cry every drop of fluid in my body so this laugh is probably just some sort of trauma response. I'm not laughing cause I'm happy, lets get that straight. I just can't believe my existence is this complex. Right now, I'm laying in a luxurious bed of a luxurious bedroom with my absent mother who is telling me she basically kidnapped me from a hospital and shipped me 3000 miles from my husband in order to set us apart. My arm is in a cast, I have a pounding headache from a head injury, I'm covered in stitches, I'm pretty sure I'm missing a patch of hair at the back of my head from surgery, and there is a strange lady named Martha who just brought me a whole feast that can feed a family.

Like I said, it's probably good I'm laughing.

"Get it out," my mother says within my hysterical laughter. "You're in shock and still have some morphine in your system."

Tears welt my eyes from my laughter, I barely take in what she says. My eyes pinch so hard that I see colours dancing in my head. If I wasn't in so much discomfort, I would think this is all a sick dream. Maybe it still is, maybe I'm dead and am just in hell for some crazy mistakes I've made in my lifetime. I wonder what would've put me here?

"I just can't believe..." I speak in between laughs, "I just can't believe two months ago my only problems were trying to figure out my way into university and how to get my ex-boyfriend in a high school letterman jacket to leave me alone."

I open my eyes to see my mother sitting in the chair next to my bed again, waiting for me to stop. She's sitting so poised; perfect posture with her leg crossed over the other. It only makes me laugh harder.

"And now you're here and you look like that and—" I just keep laughing, not even bothering with the rest of the sentence.

He gives me a smile that only tells me she's just waiting for me to get control of myself, eyes stuck on me. I wipe the tears under my eyes and try to catch my breath.

"I'm glad you're finding some humour in all of this." She says.

"Don't worry," I begin while calming down. "I'm laughing but I still hate my life."

She stands up and decides to come sit on the edge of my bed rather than the chair. Next to my legs, she sits so the plush mattress dips. My laughter goes quiet because I didn't want her presence any closer to me. My body tenses up as she places a hand on my shin, folding her glossed lips into a line.

"You'll be happy here, honey..." She murmurs. "Your father and I will protect you. I know it all seems scary right now but you're safe. We will keep you safe..."

Her words make me shut right up, my laughter drawing silent so I could only feel the aching aftermath of my cheekbones and abdomen. I stare blankly with a couple blinks of emptiness. Gaping into her crystal eyes, I feel hollow. From face value, she's trying to get me to trust her, to trust all of this. She wants us to be warm again, to be a family. The tension in my heart leads me to speak. My voice is soft now.

"You know, I once laid awake at night dreaming of you saying these words to me. When I was alone in my bed at thirteen years old. I remember crying because of a kid that pushed me into a janitor's closet at school and wouldn't let me out. Or when I was seventeen and balling at my reflection in the bathroom mirror after my boyfriend hit me for the first time—hoping grandma wouldn't hear." My voice cracks.