1000 Paper Cranes

Chapter 43 - 1

The next day, when I awoke I felt oddly refreshed. The sun streamed in through my window and the birds outside chirruped cheerfully. It was as if I had awoken in the opening scene of a fairy tale. I made my way downstairs and found my parents sitting, chatting over their coffee. On the table between them was a half-eaten tray of cupcakes.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Dad called as he saw me. He held a cupcake in the air and tipped it in my direction, as if in greeting.

"Are those my celebratory dance cupcakes?" I feigned exasperation. "I did not volunteer to share those with you."

I poured myself a glass of milk and took a seat next to my parents at the table.

"You want them back?" Dad laughed, gesturing to two empty cupcake wrappers. He was always a fan of the obvious joke.

"I'll pass," I laughed, snatching my own cupcake.

I could feel my mom's eyes on me as I ate my obviously nutritious breakfast. When I looked at her, she smiled a concerned smile. Would she ever stop worrying about me?

"We're so proud of you," she stuck her hand out and brushed a hand through my hair. "And not just for dancing."

I knew what she meant; I didn't want her to explain any further. I didn't want to cry. This was a happy day; I was done crying for a while.

"Thanks, Mom," I smiled and returned to my cupcake.

We sat for a while, enjoying our breakfast and the sunshine. Even though it was already blazing hot outside, Mom opened the windows and let the fresh air in. The singing birds outside grew louder and Marguerite nuzzled against my leg. I bent down and picked her up, putting her in my lap and petting her gently.

As my piglet oinked happily and my parents smiled and the warm breeze fluttered in through the window, I felt my own smile creep across my face.

Dad had been right; it was starting to suck less. I was singing "Happy Birthday" to myself less frequently with each day. I wasn't angry with the sunshine anymore. I wasn't mad that the skies were blue. I had even grown to almost enjoy my sessions with Dr. Berger.

Life wasn't exactly looking up. But it wasn't looking quite so down, anymore.

"I can't believe you'll be graduating in two weeks Mom said, her voice misty with memories. The smile on her face told me she was reminiscing; Mom had this look when she looked into the past.

"We'll see," I shrugged, only somewhat joking.

The next grueling hour was spent listening to my parents relive stories of times in my life. They remembered how I learned to ride a bike and trips to the aquarium. They remembered Christmases and first days of school. It almost seemed as if my presence wasn't necessary for this conversation, but when I tried to excuse myself, Mom put a hand out and encouraged me to sit down.

So I was forced to listen to the day my parents brought me home from the hospital. And the day I said my first word. And every little memory my parents had of me.

When they were out of memories, I was grateful for a break in the conversation. I scratched Marguerite idly behind her ears as I looked at my parents. They were glowing with pride. They were proud of me. I didn't have the heart to tell them that they wouldn't be proud of me once the weekend ended, so I let them continue in their delusions.

"What are your plans today?" Dad finally asked after a comfortable silence.

What he was really asking was what I intended to do since my friends would all be readying themselves for prom. My parents tried not to ask questions that might make me sad; I think they had had enough sadness for a lifetime. I had had enough sadness for a lifetime.