Picturesque

Chapter 15: It's a Deal

The house was empty as I fled through it. Flo passed me up the stairs and told me that I would get a break from the kids because Marty and Katie took them out for dinner and ice cream. I was thankful for this because I feel myself coming to a breaking point. I needed time alone, time to think, time to cry, time to write. I think Flo thought I was sick because of the way I was breathing heavily and the moisture on my face from tears and sweat, but I fled to my room before she could see me for a moment longer.

When I got to my room, I shut the door and slammed my back against it, tears flying fast down my face. I hated harsh words. I hated them. What is it about people that they forget other people have feelings too? What is this innate, narcissistic, vile trait in humans? I would have rather broken all the bones in my body than to hear one more harsh word in that moment. My chest felt cut right open, and I hated myself for being so sensitive. I was always a sensitive child. Any infraction no matter how small was enough to make me cry. The number of times that I had sincerely cried over spilled milk as a child was too many to count, but Mama consoled me every time.

Mama.

How I desperately needed to talk to her. I nearly fell as I ran to the phone on the desk. I needed to hear her voice, to hear her laugh. I wanted to cry to her and have her tell me that everything was alright, to talk optimistically in her way of avoiding any negative truth. I wanted her to tell me that story about how Daddy flew to the sun.

The room was spinning fast. My clammy hand squeezed the handle of the phone but stopped.

Mama told me before I left that I would come crying back to her. She told me that I was going willingly into the world and that it would chew me up and spit me out, and that I was going to come crying back to her like a child. And she told me she wouldn't be there. She said that. She said that to me, her only child. Her Becky, she spoke that way to. She eliminated herself as an option or a consolation for me. Without her, I had no one.

For a moment, I pretended that there were other people I knew. I didn't try to think of names. I only thought of numbers. What number could I call? Should I call the Prytania theater and ask them what they were showing tonight? Should I call my old boss at the candy shop and ask him if there are any kids who took Greg and I's place in stealing from him? Should I call Mrs. Foreman and ask her who will be taking my place in the dorm? Should I call Dr. Marlar and tell him that this isn't for me, that I can't do this, that I have failed him, and that I am a worthless, naïve little girl who is close to becoming an orphan?

No, I had no one.

A small sob left my body as I placed my hands over my head and started spinning around the room. Maybe if I spun fast enough, I could spring right up and burst through this roof, out of this house, and fly straight up into the sun. Maybe Daddy would be there.

God, how sensitive and childish I was.

Losing my breath and balance, I stopped spinning and stumbled over to my underwear drawer, tugging out the fabrics until I found that picture of Greg.

Him and I, on our bikes, arms slung around each other. We were smiling and cringing from the sun in our eyes. It soothed me a little, but my face was throbbing and my shoulders shaking. I wish he was here. He would be reading some science journal, laying on my bed with his legs crossed. He would be talking about things I actually was interested in. He would hopelessly try to speak French, only for me to correct him. He would hug me tight, as if he was scared of losing me. I wished I had hugged him tighter.

I wondered what would have happened if I had disapproved of Greg and Roger. What if I screamed at him, told him it wasn't natural, that he needed to stop or else I would tell everyone. Maybe he would've listened to me, with as much as he looked up to me like a big sister. He would've stopped seeing Roger. He would have never gone to the park with him that day. He wouldn't have gotten brutally beaten. His body wouldn't have been dumped into the pond as if he was just the carcass of a dead animal.