Page 16 of Vulnerate

Only Mom was sick, the doctors would have been there.

I pull away from her and just stare. She curses under her breath and asks, “You didn’t see the news?”

Shaking my head, she pulls her phone out and loads whatever clip is needed before putting it into my hand. The anchorwoman has a calming voice recounting my tragedy.

“Two bodies were pulled from a car that went over Wisteria Bridge last night, they’re believed to be business tycoon Lucas Carvalho and his wife, Bianca.”

I restart it from the beginning, and I don’t listen to the words as I watch the footage. I know the cars we have. I’ve sketched every single one we own when I needed reference images. And there on the screen is the only one missing from the garage, Mom’s favorite car that they always take because Dad wants, wanted, her to be comfortable.

Carly runs off and makes it to the bathroom in time to be sick but I’m numb. It can’t be real. Dad was always careful when he was driving, he’d never speed or take corners too fast. That bridge leads to our property they were staying in, he could drive over it a hundred times and be safe. There’s no bend, no possible way for him to lose control.

Death is paperwork,it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and I’ve had enough pieces of paper to fill a forest move across me. None of it is pushed in front of me, but it has my name on due to me being a minor. It’s clerical, as though I’m not a person and just an object to be passed off onto someone else.

Carly is fucked up with her grief and hasn’t let go of my hand. I don’t know if it’s for me or to comfort herself, but I don’t stop her. She can’t have slept after she flew out to identify the bodies. Such a weird thing to call my parents, they’re not rich and admired, they’re bodies. They’re not Mr. and Mrs. Carvalho, they are bodies. They’re not here, so they’re bodies.

Mr. Johnson slides a flash drive towards us and gives us the same sad smiles we’ve gotten from everyone we’ve come into contact with.

“Watch it when you feel ready. I’m sorry for your loss.”

That phrase is stupid as fuck. No one apologizes when you lose a possession. And loss implies it can be found. You can’t find dead people, they’re dead so you’ll always know where they are. My parents will be closer to me in death than they were during their life, I’ll actually know where they are now. I’m sick, mentally there’s something wrong with me and the urge to laugh builds in my throat, choking me.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, Tali and Val trying to get my attention again when I’ve been ignoring them. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do and stare straight ahead. The guilt over not mourning correctly forces tears out, but they’re evidence of my selfishness. My parents have always been ghosts, these figures that I know are there but rarely see. A phantom of care. But now there’s no hope for it to change. I can’t tell myself they’ll be better. That I’ll wake up one day and not have to lie. The lie is just getting deeper. I’ll listen to everyone say how much they loved their children and nod in the right places without ever having felt that love.

Taking the flash drive before Carly can, I rip my hand out of hers and go to my room. Whatever is on it must be important, open when dead important. Maybe it’s proof that they cared.

Or some conceited instruction on which press to allow at the viewing.

I’m not a bitter and resentful person, but it’s taking over me, and I can’t get the voice in my head to shut the fuck up. Carly’s tear filled whisper floats behind me as I take the steps two at a time.

“What the fuck are we going to do?”

She’s talking to herself. I’m no help to her when she’s spent all day throwing up after seeing their bodies.

I’m conscious enough not to allow my bedroom door to slam and I sit beside my bed on my knees as I load the files. There’s only one item saved without a name. The autosave has kept the time and date showing it was three hours before their car went over the bridge. My fingers shake as I press play while something inside of me dies knowing this is going to ruin me forever.

Will they be happy? Were they recording something meaningful? Or is the toxic voice in my head right?

Mom and Dad both sit in the chair by the window, she’s smiling but there are tears in her eyes and Dads voice is strong.

“You’ve both made us very proud, filhinha1. I’m sorry we couldn’t do the same for you, this is our way of trying to fix it and keeping your lives intact as much as possible.”

One sentence, without my name being mentioned, is all I get before he recounts his instructions for Carly.

“Carly you’ll have to be strong. The accounts will all go under your name like the house. Remember what we spoke about? The house is yours, no one can take it, show them the contracts if they try. Okay, filhinha?”

One sentence is all I get from the selfish bastards who got themselves in debt and decided death was better than living. Better than being parents. Fuck them both, they planned this. Chose the day and sat down to record a fucking message expressing their fucking love for their children. My entire body freezes and I fall back laughing in realization. Staring up at the ceiling, my laugh wraps around my speech and tears.

“Happy fucking birthday to me, what a great present Dani. You’re an orphan.”

The guilt that was weighing me down disappears. They don’t deserve it. I’m numb. I’m forgettable. I’m nothing and hearing that dick give instructions without once mentioning me proves it. I am nothing,wasnothing to the people who brought me into this world. They decided to die together and leave me alone over paper, a made up number that made them feel important. On the exact day that normal families would celebrate their child being born, parents reminisce about their baby, mine decided death was better.

1 Little girl, little daughter

Endearment

SIX

Daniela

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