"I'm Not Crazy"

VI.

My mom wasn't religious until she met the man who eventually became my step dad. In fact, she and my father were strictly agnostic together. My fathers family was very devoutly catholic, and he always said that my mother was a breath of fresh air because she wasn't. He was a free spirited type of person. He was the type of person that wanted desperately to know and see everything. Catholicism simply could not hold him.

He died when I was 7 years, 8 months and 26 days old. It was raining that day. The sky wept.

I don't want to talk about how he died, but for the sake of clarity, I'll say it was not something of a spectacle. It wasn't something that would raise eyebrows or incite mystery. He got sick and then he died, and it wasn't something anyone needed to ponder beyond than that. I want to believe is matter infinitely more to focus on how someone lived.

The last thing he said to me was, "I'll see you tomorrow, Charlie."

He was unaware that he would not see me on that fictional tomorrow. He didn't know that he wouldn't have another tomorrow ever again, because he died that night. Everyone around him knew he was going to die. I knew he was going to die. This thing happens when you're in the hospital, where everybody watches you dying, but nobody tells you what they see. Most hospital rooms don't have mirrors in the room. They're in the bathroom, where people who are healthy enough to walk can see them. When you're dying, you're normally in bed. There's normally a tube in your bladder and you don't walk to the bathroom because you can't. That means you can't see the mirror. You can't see how much you look like a dying person.

I could see it though, and so could everyone else. His lips were pale and his hair was thin. His cheeks were sunk in more than I could ever recall. He told me he'd see me again, and I just knew he wouldn't. I don't like to remember him that way. I like to remember when he was healthy; how he ran with me, and played games, and read books. I liked to think about how strong his arms were when he picked me up, and how it sounded when he sang in the shower. It was loud, and off key, and distinctly him.

My mom met Franklin four months later. He was older than my dad, among their many other differences. My parents were highschool sweethearts, and I was born when they were both 20. When my dad died they were 27. My step dad was 36 that same year. He had a 12 year old son named Matthew, an estranged ex-wife, and no other children.

I don't know much about romance. With the exception of watching Bird/Basil smile whimsically when referencing their Riley, I had no idea what loving another person was supposed to look like. Having recently discovered that I didn't actually know Bird/Basils true name, it's fair to say that I couldn't read much into what I thought I knew about their love either. I was ignorant. I knew nothing. Love was completely out of my realm of knowing.

Even in my ignorance, I can infer that things moved remarkably fast between my mother and Franklin. My fathers body was probably still recognizable in his coffin when they told me they were getting married. He'd only been buried for 9 months. They'd only known eachother for 5.

My mom hadn't ever held a job before. My dad had been part of the janitorial staff at city hall back in Redding. It wasn't exactly a lucrative position, but city halls campus was beautiful, with pink flowers in spring, and a big decorative fountain up front. He took pride in working there, and it afforded my mom the ability to be home with me. On his work days she'd pack a picnic, and he'd take his lunch outside on the benches with us while I ran laps through the garden beds. My mother thrived at being home. She was made to be a little bit of a housewife, and back then I loved it. I wanted her home with me too.

So it was natural for her to fall back into a marriage so quickly. If I had been older, I probably would have expected it. I would have looked at how woefully unprepared she was to be alone, and I'd have understood it. It wouldn't have felt like such a betrayal to see her move on so quickly.