Life Without You

1

"The hardest thing in life is finding someone you can't live without, and then living without them."

* * *

There are five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. At least that's what people always say.

I didn't agree.

It had been four weeks since my sister, Amber's death. Four weeks since I had gotten that horrible phone call. Four weeks since I had a good night's sleep. Four weeks since the person I loved the most had been taken away from me.

Four weeks since my world had crumbled from underneath me.

And within those four weeks I had experienced the first four stages. I had been silent. I had screamed. I had begged. I had sobbed. Everyday was different. There was no pattern or order that indicated how I was going to act. Not once did I feel acceptance and I knew I never would. Because how could I? How in the world would I ever be able to accept this horrible thing that made the insides of my stomach twist?

Now all I felt was numb. Empty. I stopped crying, I stopped screaming, I stopped all the things that I had spent the last four weeks doing and instead I had become a shadow of myself.

What else are you supposed to do after you lose everything?

I heard my name being called from downstairs. My father's voice had changed since the last time I had seen him which, had been so many years ago. When I was really young I remember it being light. He was always laughing and smiling. Throwing his head back and clutching his stomach. Slowly, he turned to alcohol. He became this person filled with anger who yelled constantly. Someone you hid from. 

Now his voice was hesitant, like he never was sure what to say.

When I turned fifteen I had gotten a birthday card from him letting me know that he had gone to rehab. He wanted to see me.

I had thrown the card in the trash.

I took my time as I walked down the stairs. I ran my hands against the polished wood of his railing. I took each step of the stairs waiting for there to be a creak like there was back in Philly but every time I took a step the stairs were only silent.

The fact that my father was so well off now made me angry. Did he have any idea how he left us to live?

When I eventually reached the kitchen where my father stood, making pancakes, I was extremely exhausted. Just the thought of having to have a conversation with my father was mentally draining and I had dreaded it the whole walk to the kitchen.

My father looked over at me, the same brown eyes I had felt like they were burning into my skin. "Pancakes?" He asked, lifting the pan up so I could see it cooking inside. I shook my head no and waited to see if he had anything else to say.

He placed the pan back down looking defeated and I almost felt bad. Almost.

He flipped the pancake on to a plate, drizzling on some syrup before turning back to me. "I wanted to talk to you about school."

"No." I said, shaking my head. I wasn't going back to school. Back in Philly the school I went to was one of the poorest in the city. Half the school was missing ceilings so you could see the busted pipes and wires above your head. The lockers were all dented in and offensive words were written on them that no one had ever bothered to clean off. The majority of the kids were horrible, half of Amber's grade ended up dropping out before graduation. Including her.

When she left, school had become a nightmare for me. She had been my only friend and when she decided that it was better if she didn't go to school I was left alone. But back then I rarely went to school anyway, usually spending my time in the apartment with Amber or working. It would be different this time. Now I wouldn't be able to jump into my sister's 2008 black Lexus after a bad day at school. I would have to come here.

"You have to go, Sierra." My dad said. We had had this conversation countless times before and it seemed he was tired of me saying no. "If you miss any more school the principal says you're going to have to redo senior year."

It didn't matter if I flunked out of high school. I didn't plan on graduating. Like my sister I didn't want to go to school and learn pointless things that weren't going to help me in life. In five months when I turned eighteen I was dropping out and moving as far away from my father as possible.

When I didn't say anything he continued his voice becoming soft. "It's been four weeks, Sierra, it's time." But it wasn't, not really.

I looked up at him, observing his graying hair and tense face. Dark bags sat under his eyes. He hadn't changed clothes in the past three days. I hadn't expected my sister's death to affect him. My sister and I had different dads. Neither me nor Amber knew who her father was. We didn't talk about it either.

My father had lived with us in Philly before he left when I was nine and even though my father and I were related by blood, if I died I hadn't thought he would care either. But the way he looked right now. The way he had looked since Amber died it was like she had always been a daughter to him.

I ran my tongue across my front teeth as I thought. Five months, I repeated in my head, just five more months.

"Fine." I said so quietly it should have been impossible for him to hear me, but he did.

He smiled. Like back when I was little. I didn't smile back instead I turned around, heading back to my room as he called out behind me. "I'll let the school know you'll start on Monday!"

And as I flopped back down on my bed and looked back up at the small stain on the ceiling that I had been staring at for weeks the reality of his words hit me.

I was going back to school.

Author's Note

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