Finally Me

Chapter one

I've always wondered what comes after death. What comes after their cold corpse is buried six feet into the ground. I'm not suicidal or have any intention of ending my life. Yes, my life might be miserable, but it's bearable enough to want to see it through. As a child, my life had always been seen as perfect. I had two parents in one home along with my younger sister, Denise. Denise had always been everyone's least favorite. I'm not bragging because I was the golden child— It would have probably made my life ten times easier if she had taken the spotlight every once in a while. Denise had honey hazel eyes and nappy black hair, much like our father; no one really liked him either. He was an alcoholic, spending most of his paycheck at the Pink Lady bar down the street from my childhood home. He would come home most nights drunk, and stressed out of his mind. Mom would try to help, working night shifts at the hospital where she worked part time as a receptionist. The other half of her time was devoted to her artwork. My mom attended art school right as she got out of high school. My grandparents were not very happy with her career choice, and cut my mom off for eight years until she got pregnant with Denise. Unfortunately, my mom never ended up graduating due to her meeting my dad and getting pregnant with me. I remember specific memories of playing in my mom's art studio, helping her paint her next piece— those memories were probably the only good thing that I can recall from my childhood.
Most of my memories were full of my mother pushing my sister and I to be the most perfect daughters— or at least look like we were. Both my sister and I were forced to pick up an instrument and language that wasn't English that we would have to use in order to "increase the diversity of the household." I ended up picking Piano and French, while Denise picked the classic Violin and Italian. Two sisters. Same blood, Polar opposites. We both were then thrown into beauty pageants and cheerleading during middle school and highschool. It wasn't until the end of my senior year that everything changed. My mom got sick. Cancer. It was heartbreaking news. My entire world had crumbled. Mom began chemo but it was too late. The cancer was discovered too late and she eventually ended up passing away four years later. August 4th, 2017. It was a Friday. I was out with my friends and my fiance, Hiram, celebrating my engagement at a local bar. I was three drinks in when I got the phone call. I remember it so vividly. I remember how my sister's voice quaked with each word she spoke. How my hand loosened around my phone, causing it to slide out of my grip. How my knees caved as I fell to the ground, an agonizing cry escaping my throat. I don't recall the tears stopping that night. The little girl I once had been was completely broken. Dead. She died, just as my mom did.
I had Hiram drive me to the hospital where my family—well, part of my family was waiting for me. I walked into that room where I glimpsed at my mothers pale face; completely drained of color and life. It only took a glimpse to know that she was gone. And so, I broke. Again, and again, and again. I sat down by the bed, and clutched her hand with mine. She was so frail. Gaunt. I didn't realize how skinny she'd become. I suppose that's what I get for moving on with life and leaving San Jose. I didn't mean to abandon my family; or maybe I did and just didn't want to accept it. I didn't leave the hospital until the nurses practically had to pry me off of my mothers body. I don't think I'd ever cried that much in my life.
And now, here I am, being fitted one last time before my wedding. Hiram and I had finally set a date. February 26, 2019. Two weeks away. To say the least, it has been stressful, but everything is perfect. My dress, the venue, my fiance. Everything is perfect. I sent invitations to Denise and my father. Denise RSVP'd right away, but my dad not so much. I haven't heard from him in over a year. I last talked to him five months after my mothers passing, and he seemed to be doing perfectly fine.
"Enya!" Denise shouted, breaking me away from myself.
My eyes fixed upon myself, tracing and gliding over my body. The dress was beautiful. It was my perfect dream dress that I designed when I was a girl. A ballroom gown with lace sleeves, and gemstones embroidered on the sweetheart neckline and around the bodice of the dress. It was a beautiful dress, but it felt as though something—someone was missing. It was as though it wasn't me standing in the dress. I looked the same, but I didn't feel the same. I wasn't the professional pianist with blonde hair and green eyes who loved the outdoors and donating to charity. I was an imposter. A version of myself who wasn't really me.
            "What's the matter? You don't like it?" Denise asked with a frown, her hazel eyes boring into my green ones. "No, no it's not that— I'm just tired. All this wedding planning has my head spinning," I put my hands on either side of my head, a sigh escaping my lips as my eyes came to a slight close. Denise looked at me with sorrowful eyes. "You look just like her, you know," I smiled. "I don't think I would be able to live up to her standards," I laughed, looking down as my sister joined her hands with mine. "Enya, you're absolutely gorgeous. Hiram isn't going to be able to contain himself," I watched as a flicker of sadness crossed her eyes. "What was that?"
She looked at me. "What was what?" I let go of her hands, crossing my arms. "Your silence is louder than the words you speak, Denise," She looked down, unable to find the words that she was so desperately trying to say. "It's all kind of...scary I guess. You're getting married and I'm here, alone and completely incapable of finding someone who actually loves me," She sat down on the sofa. I sat down next to her, rubbing her back gently. "What about that guy you were talking so fondly about? I thought everything was going well!" A sob broke from her lips as she put her hands together. "It didn't work out. He said that he wasn't going to risk the opportunities that were coming his way, just for me— he said he needed more of a motive to stay with me!"
I pulled her in for a hug, cradling the back of her head as I shushed her through her sobs and whimpers. She held on tight to me, her sobs shaking the both of us. This is how it usually went. She would fall head over heels for the guys who played her heartstrings just right, and when they were finally bored of her, they would simply break her heart into pieces. "You'll find your person eventually. I promise you, Denise,"
         It was evident that she didn't believe me, but nonetheless she wiped her tears and sighed, replacing her frown with a much too fake smile. "You're right. Don't listen to me, this is about you." I kissed her forehead, and stood from the sofa, stepping onto the platform. I took one last look at my dress, hoping to find that my emptiness was gone. It wasn't. I shook my head, smoothing the sides of the dress and walked towards the changing rooms.
___________________

By the time I arrived home, Hiram was no where to be found. I checked the time. It was late. Why wasn't he home?
         I stepped into the kitchen, my eyes falling upon a large bouquet of red roses and a piece of paper with his name written at the bottom.

Enya,
Hey gorgeous, I won't be home tonight. I have to stay late at the office tonight. Just stopped by to grab some clothes, I'm gonna crash at John's place. Don't wait up.

Much love,
Hiram.

I sighed, placing my purse down on the stool next to the kitchen island, and walked up to the bedroom. I changed my clothes, and fell onto the bed. Next thing I knew, I was out like a light.