fallen asleep again. When I awoke for the second time that day, the room was dark, with only a stream of moonlight giving shape to the furniture.
Loud protestations came from my grumbling belly, but I ignored them and fell back down to my pillows, tears streaming down my cheeks as I thought of my mom. Nothing would make the grief I felt inside my chest fade away, not food, not water. Perhaps there was one thing, but he wasn’t here. He’d left, even though he said he’d be here.
I closed my eyes again, and by the time I resurfaced, my stomach ached from the lack of food. I didn’t know what day it was. I tried to make myself move, thought about swinging my legs off the bed and hauling my ass out to the bathroom and taking a shower. But I didn’t do anything. I merely lay there and stared into open space.
“Where the hell are you? Are you really going to miss your own mother’s funeral?”
Shit, shit, shit! I thought as the message ended. That was today? How could I have let the days slip by? And where the hell was Harvey? He should be here, demanding that I get out of bed.
Warring with myself whether I should show up to see them lay my mother in the ground, her body buried in mud, as they had done with Eric’s, I felt bile travel up my throat.
I couldn’t face it; it would be the end of me. Not another funeral so soon after Eric’s! I envisaged the white flowers, lilies no doubt, strewn over the white coffin that I knew Anita would’ve chosen. And the people and their sad, pitying faces. No. I couldn’t. I was being selfish, but it would kill me…
I continued to debate with myself, as if there was going to be a different outcome each time, anxiety building. Telling myself that I should get up now or miss the ceremony. But instead I just lay in my bed, numb. Tears poured down my face, frozen against the time that continued to tick by.
I awoke to the sound of loud footsteps thudding up the stairs, and for brief second, hope entered my head. Harvey? But a lurid calling of my name brought a quick end to that. Anita came into the room, fists clenched by her sides. There was fury and determination in her steps.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” she yelled.
My head pounded, and I winced from the pain. “Lower your voice, Anita,” I said, my voice coming out as a croak. “I have a migraine.”
My words seemed to infuriate her more. “Keep it down? Do you even hear yourself, Sara?”
“Please,” I begged.
“You have some fucking nerve. Why didn’t you come to the funeral?”
“I couldn’t bring myself to go, Anita,” I said, rubbing one of my temples. “Not another one.” It was self-preservation, I failed to add, knowing she’d never understand. She’d never had to deal with anything but light in her life.
“You should be ashamed of yourself!” my sister continued, ignoring my request to lower her voice. “Do you think it was easy on us? Easy on me?”
“I never said that. This is not about you, Anita. I couldn’t handle the grief.”
Anita stared at me as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You don’t see me giving up, do you? I have kids to look after. I can’t afford to crumble, Sara.”
I shook my head and sent locks of hair flying across my face. I brushed them away. “I’m not as strong as you, Anita. I’m different; we’ve both known that since we were little. I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, I absorb the pain, and you just brush it off—water off a duck’s back.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake. Grow up! I can’t look after you and my family and everyone else, too. I’m not some superwoman, Sara.”
“I’m not asking you to look after me!” I yelled, surprised at my own voice. It was stronger now than it had ever been. “I never have. You just choose to think everyone needs you. Well, I don’t!”
She gasped at the words I’d spoken, and my head reeled with pain from the noise I’d inflicted upon it. Anita threw up her
Loud protestations came from my grumbling belly, but I ignored them and fell back down to my pillows, tears streaming down my cheeks as I thought of my mom. Nothing would make the grief I felt inside my chest fade away, not food, not water. Perhaps there was one thing, but he wasn’t here. He’d left, even though he said he’d be here.
I closed my eyes again, and by the time I resurfaced, my stomach ached from the lack of food. I didn’t know what day it was. I tried to make myself move, thought about swinging my legs off the bed and hauling my ass out to the bathroom and taking a shower. But I didn’t do anything. I merely lay there and stared into open space.
“Where the hell are you? Are you really going to miss your own mother’s funeral?”
Shit, shit, shit! I thought as the message ended. That was today? How could I have let the days slip by? And where the hell was Harvey? He should be here, demanding that I get out of bed.
Warring with myself whether I should show up to see them lay my mother in the ground, her body buried in mud, as they had done with Eric’s, I felt bile travel up my throat.
I couldn’t face it; it would be the end of me. Not another funeral so soon after Eric’s! I envisaged the white flowers, lilies no doubt, strewn over the white coffin that I knew Anita would’ve chosen. And the people and their sad, pitying faces. No. I couldn’t. I was being selfish, but it would kill me…
I continued to debate with myself, as if there was going to be a different outcome each time, anxiety building. Telling myself that I should get up now or miss the ceremony. But instead I just lay in my bed, numb. Tears poured down my face, frozen against the time that continued to tick by.
I awoke to the sound of loud footsteps thudding up the stairs, and for brief second, hope entered my head. Harvey? But a lurid calling of my name brought a quick end to that. Anita came into the room, fists clenched by her sides. There was fury and determination in her steps.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” she yelled.
My head pounded, and I winced from the pain. “Lower your voice, Anita,” I said, my voice coming out as a croak. “I have a migraine.”
My words seemed to infuriate her more. “Keep it down? Do you even hear yourself, Sara?”
“Please,” I begged.
“You have some fucking nerve. Why didn’t you come to the funeral?”
“I couldn’t bring myself to go, Anita,” I said, rubbing one of my temples. “Not another one.” It was self-preservation, I failed to add, knowing she’d never understand. She’d never had to deal with anything but light in her life.
“You should be ashamed of yourself!” my sister continued, ignoring my request to lower her voice. “Do you think it was easy on us? Easy on me?”
“I never said that. This is not about you, Anita. I couldn’t handle the grief.”
Anita stared at me as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You don’t see me giving up, do you? I have kids to look after. I can’t afford to crumble, Sara.”
I shook my head and sent locks of hair flying across my face. I brushed them away. “I’m not as strong as you, Anita. I’m different; we’ve both known that since we were little. I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, I absorb the pain, and you just brush it off—water off a duck’s back.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake. Grow up! I can’t look after you and my family and everyone else, too. I’m not some superwoman, Sara.”
“I’m not asking you to look after me!” I yelled, surprised at my own voice. It was stronger now than it had ever been. “I never have. You just choose to think everyone needs you. Well, I don’t!”
She gasped at the words I’d spoken, and my head reeled with pain from the noise I’d inflicted upon it. Anita threw up her
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