Walk Away

Preface

(Genevieve's POV)

--FLASHBACK--

" Don't worry, honey," Mom's voice soothed me. "I'll be back before you even know it."

"Don't go, Mom. Something bad is going to happen. I just feel it," I cried.

"Twenty minutes tops. I promise, okay?"

"Okay... Mom?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Genevieve."

"Had, Have, and Always Will?"

She smiled. "Had, Have, and Always Will." That was our sentiment toward each other. We had loved each other, before I was born even. Have doesn't make much sense if you consider it like had, but it still means that we still love each other. The "Always Will" covers the future. As in, we always will love each other no matter what happens.

* * * * * *

-- THIRTY MINUTES LATER --

The house phone rang, and I jumped to get it.

"Is this the Hopkins ' household? '' An unfamiliar male voice asked, sorrow tore at the seams of his voice.

"Yes. Are you wanting to speak with my father?" I answered, not feeling unusual because Father got business calls quite often.

"Um.... yes. Please tell him it's quite urgent."

''Yes, Sir. Wait here, and I'll go get him."

"Run,''the man advised me.

I set the phone down and looked for Dad. I shouted for him inside the house and I eventually found him in a lawn chair next to our in-ground swimming pool with sunglasses and a towel over his eyes (he has very light sensitive eyes).

"Daddy, a man says he needs to talk to you about something urgent." Dad got out of his chair and followed me to the phone.

"Hello?" Dad murmured into the phone.

"Charles?" The man asked.

"Jeremy, you sound troubled. What do you need?"

"No, Charles. I'm at work in the hospital..." Jeremy sobbed.

"And what happened?"

"Your wife...... Charles, Isabelle's been in an accident with a drunk driver. I - I overheard the other doctors saying that she might not make it."

"No...." It was the first time I saw Dad cry---- the first time I heard him sob like there was nobody watching.

"You, Genevieve, and Annabelle better get down here quick."

"On it," Dad whispered in between sobs.

"Annabelle, get your shoes on. We're gonna go on a little car ride," I explained to my 10 year old sister as I, myself, started to cry. Why didn't she listen to me? I thought. I told her something bad was going to happen.

"Okay, Genie-vieve," Annabelle obeyed without asking questions. She never could pronounce my name correctly as a kid , and the nickname just kind of stuck.

By the time Dad got off the phone, put his shoes on, and grabbed the keys, Annabelle and I were ready to go.

"Thank you, Genevieve." Dad smiled a sad smile at me. "Let's go girls."

* * * * * *

"Where's Mommy?" Annabelle whined. It was way past her bedtime, but I knew we weren't going to school tomorrow (it was the last day anyway).

"Mommy's getting a check-up from the doctor, Annabelle," I whispered. I saw Dad deflatedly talking talking to our family friend, Doctor Jeremy. I never had talked to him enough to remember his voice. Maybe that's why he sounded so unfamiliar on the phone?

"When will she be done?"

"When Doctor Jeremy says she can go home."

"Mommy's not okay, is she Genie-vieve?" Annabelle knew when she was being lied to.

"She'll be fi-"

"Don't lie," she interrupted.

"Truth is, Annabelle, Mom was in a very bad car accident, and I don't know if she' ll make it through or not."

* * * * * *

--THE FUNERAL--

"You are my mother, my strength, my support,

You are always with me in spirit for no one can lie upon the Earth in this forever sense,

You are my mother, my friend, my confident,

I will continue to tell you all the things I'm troubled with as well as the joys in my life.

You are my mother, and you will always have a special place in my heart.

The music hasn't died if I still hear it.

So, you are not gone if I still sense you.

Even though we part in our earthly lives, in the kingdom of heaven shall I finally be able to recreate our last embrace.

I love you, Mom. Had, Have, and Always Will."

I felt closer than ever to my mom after I read the poem I wrote for her.

I cried the most that day we lowered my mother into the ground. Dad tried his hardest to put on a brave face for everyone, but I reminded him that he didn't have to bottle up his feelings here, or anywhere. He could cry whenever he wanted over Mom, and I would still see him as the kind, loving father that I had always seen him as.

Just days after the funeral, it all changed. Dad started acting differently , and his drinking habits started forming. Dad, as far as I knew, was a mean drunk.

He started smelling like Budweiser and whiskey. When I tried to get him to stop drinking, he told me to mind my own business. When Dad got drunk, he would always put Annabelle and I down. No matter what we did , we were never good enough.

Soon, insult gave way to violence. The whiskey would make him a very violent man. If we didn't get our rooms cleaned or do any ridiculous chore that he could conjure up in a certain amount of time, he would beat us with the hands that used to push us on the swings or cheer us on during softball games. I didn't know if we'd ever get our old dad back because the dad we knew was gone.