The Pain You Hide

Day 59

I hold the book, thinking about who Paul might be. Sleep didn't come easy last night; my mind was filled with questions. As a child, I only heard my mother mention the name once and that was during one of the times she locked herself in her room. My younger self had assumed Paul was her imaginary friend. I don't know who he really is, but there's one woman who might.

"Mom," I say into the empty room.

I feel a chill and look over my shoulder, my eyes meeting the eyes of the dead. I jump but manage to keep from shouting; I don't know if I'll ever get use to seeing my mother as a banshee--at least, that's what I think she is. Every night she's in this form, the sound of sobbing wakes me. It was part of what made it hard to sleep last night. Surprisingly, it's only when she's like this that she'll answer when I call her my mother, but I'm sure she doesn't know who I am.

"You wouldn't happen to know where your old planner is," I say, "would you?"

She floats through me--sending ice through my veins--and heads toward her room. When I get there, she's hovering by her night stand, looking at the drawer. Amber was my mother's old college friend. The three of us would always go out whenever she came by. We lost contact with her after a couple of moves, though my mother tried to stay in touch. After some calling around, I finally have Amber's number. My mother's presence hangs over me as I call.

"Is this Amber McKenzie?" I say when she answers. "I'm Margret River. Cathy River's daughter. Do you have a moment?"

Paul is my father.

After getting through the pleasantries and making up something that was almost the truth about my mother's situation, I finally got some answers. I never knew my mother studied theater in college much less that she was an actress. I can picture her up on stage, fully embodying her role. Just like she is now. Apparently, it was her dream to write her own plays. That didn't surprise me. Hell, I was almost sure she had some old scripts hidden away somewhere. The theater is where she met Paul. From what Amber told me about their relationship, it sounded like they were perfect for each other. Too bad he died before she could tell him she was pregnant. My mother couldn't afford to have me and go to college, so she dropped out.

I lay on the couch cushions, hugging my knees to my chest. My mother never told me any of this. I think about all the times she locked herself in her room or when she'd give me a weird look; it must have been hard to look at me some days, knowing I was a part of him. I'm too tired to fight my tears. A chill fills the room. My mother's returned from wherever she went. Usually when I feel her presence, I feel a mixture of security and paranoia. Now, there's only guilt.

"I'm sorry," I say to the room, but she doesn't answer. Maybe that book will work. Paul meant a lot to her, so maybe being reminded of him will bring her back, if only a little. "It's story time, Mom," I say, grabbing the book.

I hope the words reach her. I hope she can remember who she is. Who I am. As I read, the temperature drops lower than I'm used to. Something's wrong. Looking around, I'm able to make her shape out in the corner of the room. I jump. I've never seen her look at me with such big eyes before. My heart races, adrenaline pumping. Wait. She isn't looking at me. I follow her gaze to the book in my hands. I want to believe it worked, but something tells me it didn't. I hesitate to speak.

"Mo--"

A piercing wail hits my ears. I cover them, until it stops. She's gone when it's over, not even the chill of her presence lingering. Though my breath comes a little easier, I know her reaction isn't a good thing.