Passenger | Unedited Version

chapter twenty three | ronan

chapter twenty three | ronan

It's never a good thing when Miss Mariam starts to talk to you in her serious voice.

There have only been two times that she's ever used the voice on me and neither came with a good memory. The first time I ever heard her do this was when I was a young girl, only a short period after her husband had kicked the bucket and the funeral was nothing but a distant memory to my young mind. It wasn't so distant to Miss Mariam's, however, as I don't think that she'll ever be able to get over what happened to him and maybe that's why she hasn't dated anyone since his death. I guess that my mind didn't realize what it meant when people died and Mama thought I already understood what it meant, but the point is that I made the mistake of asking Miss Mariam why her husband wanted to stay inside all day instead of spending the day with me. Even though I was barely the age of being able to retain memories, I'll never forget the way that he face fell as I asked her the question. It was like the last remaining piece inside of her died right then in there, going to lay in rest with her fallen husband.

She looked at me for what seemed like five episodes of Strawberry Shortcake before answering, using that dreadful voice I realized right away meant business. To a kid, things that seem to take on a serious tone like that are never well liked and I was correct to think that what she was about to say was going to suck. "Eleanora, he's never goin' to be able to play with you again. He's gone."

"The neighbor's dog was gone for a whole afternoon the other day, but he came back. Just because someone leaves for a little bit, doesn't mean that they'll never find their way back home. When is he coming back home, Miss Mariam? I miss him. He promised that he would help me improve my curveball before tryouts starts, so that I can beat all the boy's butts and that's next week!"

I remember that Miss Mariam bit her lip to stop herself from getting too worked up about how abrupt death always seems to be and she tried to remain as calm as a lady explaining to a young child what death is could be. "He's not comin' back. He's gone for good, so you'll just have to get someone else to show you how to throw that curveball. I'm sorry, but that's the truth and you're old enough now to not have the world sugarcoated for you. You'll realize soon enough that things don't happen the way you wish that they could and this is just one instance of that exact thing. Do you get it now?"

I didn't.

The much younger version of Miss Mariam sighed, not liking the idea of her having to be the one to tell me how life works. On the bright side, at least she didn't have to tell me what the meaning behind the birds and the bees were, as Mama had a fun time with that one years later (although it wasn't all that necessary considering I'm gay, but Mama still tried to leave me with as little bit as knowledge about that area as she had, but it was nonexistent and Google explained everything better). "Sometimes life isn't always fair and things happen that you wish didn't. This is one of those events, okay? The other day, God was lookin' down at all of his children and observed everyone for a while. He saw him and decided that he would be happier livin' in Heaven with Him, so he had to leave this town behind without a single goodbye. That's what happens when you die, Eleanora."

Something clicked in my small little head, but it wasn't the good kind of clicking. It wasn't the same kind of click that happens when you want to put your seatbelt and keep missing the hole, but you eventually get it in and you're able to start driving to your desired destination. What clicked wasn't a happy thought and it never brought me any joy, but Miss Mariam always said that I gained knowledge that day and as a girl in a male dominated world, being educated is the best thing I could ever be. I realize now that she's right, but that didn't help the hurt of losing a friend and being that young, I didn't think anyone would leave me after my dad did. It didn't help me with my weak curveball and it didn't get me on the baseballs team that year.