Page 4 of Cedar Edge
People nervously shift around, throats clearing as they try to pretend I’m not standing here looking at the place my mother will never leave. After a while the vultures start to meander away, hushed whispers left behind in the air about what my fate will be. They also make sure to add in how shocked they are that my brother didn't come home, followed with sympathetic musings about how hard it must be to come back here. My teeth grind down hard enough I’m certain I might crack one as I pull my phone out, opening the group chat that has been a group of one since three years ago…
Me (Friday 8pm): I miss you guys.
Me (Saturday 1pm): Y’all must be busy but just wanna say it again… I miss you all.
Me (Thursday, 9am): Can I at least get a proof of life from someone?
Me (Friday 3:15pm): I’m sorry if I made anyone uncomfortable. I… I don't know what got into me. I should have apologized sooner, I just didn’t really realize how big of a deal it was.
Me (Monday, 7am): I can take the hint. Sorry.
It was as though when they left they took a part of me with them and with each unanswered text it continued to chip away at the core of who I was. I never thought Law and Logan would cut me out because of what I had done with Ace… my brother I could understand.
Nausea builds in my stomach even as I think about that night. Embarrassment and shame coated thick on my tongue as I keep scanning the messages.
Me (Friday 10pm): I know none of you want anything to do with me and that's understandable. This is my fault, I know that. I didn’t deserve the friendship I had from you all and I took advantage of it in the end.
Me (Friday 10:05pm): But I need help. And I have no place else I can go.
Me (Friday 10:07pm): Or friends that I can go to.
Me (Friday 10:30pm): I just….I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live like this. I’m watching my mom drown while I’m going under right next to her. I deserve it, I know I do, but my mom needs help and I can’t do it. Not anymore. I have a plan. I don’t want it but I have it. Poison feels like a good way to go given my obsession with plants. Very poetic if you ask me.
Me (Friday 11pm): Okay that was a bad joke I’m sorry. But really… I’m doing okay and I need help. Please.
Me (Friday 11:01pm) : Logan? Law?
Me (Today): My mom is dead.
I hit send on the message and shove the phone back into my pocket. I hadn’t bothered to send it earlier given no one had responded to my previous messages. If a suicidal message hadn’t invoked a response then my mom dying wouldn’t either. But it felt wrong to not tell them.
The sound of the excavator starting up startles me and I realize the funeral director is standing off to the side waiting to finish burying my mother. He looks at me before glancing down at his watch and back to me, the message clear, hurry the fuck up. I narrow my eyes at him, the rage I keep barely contained flickering in my gaze. A sheepish look crawls over his pasty face and he turns to look at the operator of the machine.
Old Thea was meek and timid and never would have been so rude to him. The old Thea only wanted to be lost in her books settled in a branch of her willow tree. I often try to remember when that version of me died. Sometimes I think it's when they all left me here and other times I think it's the moment I found my mother's body. Either way the new me is filled with nothing but venom, rage and grief.
Bending down I grab some of the hard dirt before chucking it over my moms casket, the sound of the rocks and debris hitting the top of the wood is louder than a bomb going off.
Fuck did the funeral really go that fast? I didn’t have time. I need more time.
Memories of our last few days together flash through my mind and I cringe when I think of the words I had said. We had always been so close but when she married Rodger we drifted apart, a distance growing between us with each passing day. It had been easier to ignore when I was occupied by Ace, Logan and Law but after they left the gap had grown so large I don’t think either of us knew how to cross it. Instead, I lost myself in the depression and she lost herself….
The spiral starts like they always do, and if I don’t stop it now I know I’ll get carried away by the loneliness that is festering deep within my soul. The itch to escape it builds and builds under my skin, a physical manifestation of the shit I keep shoving down.
I back away from the grave sight as my breath begins to come out in short choppy pants. The funeral director cuts me a curious glance and I quickly turn my back to him and begin walking in the opposite direction. My feet crunch against the frozen grass as I speed walk away from the last resting place of my mother. I shove my hands down into the deep pockets of my peacoat. The tips of my fingers sweep across the cool blade in my left pocketand the ridged flask in my right. I hold onto them both like a life line tethering me to this world.
My air puffs out in front of me in a cloud. It’s unseasonably cold for October, the normally crisp fall air is thick with December level frost. It’s my favorite time of year, typically, the colors, smells and overall vibe of the spooky season. The town goes big every year, pumpkins on every corner, the street lights swapped out so they flicker, and Sip Happens even renames every single drink to be themed to the season. It's the only reason I survive the winter when my flowers finally hibernate. I may not be a summer girl but I’m also not a fucking winter girl. I need the fall and spring to survive the extreme seasons.
But this year nothing and no one can pull me out of this dark place I’m in, and it seems the weather is inclined to follow my spiral.
When I’m far enough away from my mothers grave I drag the flask from its home, grimacing as I swallow down three large gulps of the liquor. I savor the burn as it snakes down my throat and into my stomach, the warmth radiating through my limbs. On second thought, maybe I should have stayed by her. I could have continued the tradition of drinking over a dead loved one.
I take another swig and another until my head feels fuzzy and my body feels warm from the inside out. When the flask finally returns to its home the world has gone dark and the chill in the air has deepened. I pull my cellphone free of the same pocket and take a glance at the text chain again. I hate that it still hurts to see no response. I wasn’t even expecting one, not really, but maybe that’s why people often say hope is a dangerous thing. Because even if it’s just a small fucking smoldering ember it can still burn you.
“Thea… how nice of you to finally make it home.” My step-father’s voice is the first thing I hear as I’m coming down the stairs post shower. When I had stumbled drunkenly into the house it had been dark and peacefully empty. I had hoped I could avoid seeing the asshole for the whole evening but alas luck wasn’t on my side.
“Sorry to disappoint." I mutter, avoiding eye contact with the man. I feel him follow behind me as I head towards the kitchen.
He lets out a long sigh. “I know we haven’t been close but I had hoped, with your mother gone now, we could work on that.” I’m thankful he can’t see my face because I’m fairly certain he’d be offended by the look of disgust currently painted across it.
