AMACon 3: Oikos Omnibus

Frosted

I hate this place.

I hate how life took everything from me.

I hate how my aunt insisted that I should live with my Grandma.

Don’t they want me? Am I just a burden, a reminder of what should not have happened? Looking out the window in this pouring rain, I sigh: as we go past the array of trees blurred by the rain’s continuous fall; as we go past everything I would leave behind to what they perceive as a new life, when all I could see is seclusion.

“Annie, don’t pout. I’ll visit you as much as I can, I promise” My aunt tells me as she glances from the rearview mirror.

Everyone says that, but no one even means it.

I look at the window once more and its still raining which turns my mood sour.

I hate the rain.

It’s a reminder of the year I want to forget, where everything was taken away from me; where everyone started to stare at me with pity and where I knew everyone wished it was me.

I hate the rain.

I hate this day.

I hate how everything reminded me of how life played a cruel joke and took everything away.

I wish it was me who died and not them.

I wish they were still here.

I miss them.

It’s been a year but I still miss them so much.

I wish they were here.

“We’re here!” I hear my aunt say and look out, my Grandma waving at me like she’s been waiting all along. Of course this is not true, nobody wants me; nobody does. I’m just a loose end they have to take care of.

“Little Annie, I missed you.” Grandma smiles and hugs me with warmth that gives me the illusion of the past.

“I’m not little anymore. I’m 13 this year.” I say matter of factly which made her laugh that made me want to annoy her.

Grandma gives my aunt a knowing look. “Sure, you’re a big girl now. That’s why you’re here to keep me company”

“When will I get out of here? When?” I could be such a brat when I want to but it’s better to detach myself early than to get hurt again in the end.

She just smiles, looks at my aunt and ushers us inside. “Come one, let’s get you dry first and we’ll talk about your terms over hot choco.”

I look at her and sigh, failing to try hard to be a brat first but nobody should resist my Grandma’s hot choco. You won this battle, Grandma but I will win this war.

Walking inside her home reminds me of all those holidays we used to sit around the fire, admiring the view and talking about everything under the sun. What used to feel like home seems like a stranger to her now; a cold, unfamiliar place.

My Grandma approaches me handing over the hot choco as promised to what it seems to be her peace offering, she even added marshmallows just how I like it. I look at her: Well played, Grammie; well-played.

“Do you miss them?” she says quietly and it makes me wonder how she could take everything calmly now that they are dead. How could she look me in the eye and not feel disgust. “It isn’t your fault Annie. Don’t ever feel like everything that has happened is your fault. You don’t deserve that”

I look at her trying to hide the despair evident in my eyes “Do you miss them?”

She smiles at me, her eyes carry a warmth which I know I don’t deserve. “Of course, honey. Every day. I miss them every day.” She touches my chest “Always remember that they never left, Annie. They are always here, watching you like angels that they are”

I look at her and as my tears betray me, I stand up feeling that she was watching as I walk away to my room, hand clutching my chest as my heart remembers the pain and guilt.

This would probably be one of those moments where I would remember all my life as I walk towards my room trying not to look at the surroundings. I look around the familiar room, my heart constricting every second. Dropping my luggage, I try to settle in but I can’t…I really can’t.

I look outside and it is still raining. The damn rain won’t seem to stop, its like even nature is starting to mock me. I wipe the window and try to look out, my mind reeling as if I am in a trance. I squint and see a boy sitting on a plank of wood right outside, his gaze far off as if he was waiting for something to happen. He stops and stares as a woman approaches him. His smile is contagious as he wraps his thin arms around her middle, burying his face on his chest. In turn she ruffles his hair in recognition and takes his hand as they walk away. I envy that boy; that sweet child who obviously has his mother to nurture him and be with him. I wish I was him.

My heart stops when he abruptly looks at my direction with a ghost of a smile frozen in his face.