All I hide

Chapter 2

After breakfast, Catherine and I clean up the kitchen while our brothers retreat to the living room to play. She washes the dishes while I wipe the table and worktop, a comfortable silence between us.

"Hey Sam?" she calls softly while wiping down the sink.

"Yeah?" I glance at her but she's not looking my way, the back of her penguin onesie greeting me instead.

"How are you doing?"

There's more weight in those four words than there should be for a supposedly normal question. I'm not sure how to answer and begin wiping at a spot that I've already cleaned. If I say I'm fine, she'll know I'm lying but how can I say the truth when I don't exactly know what that is either?

"Hey." She places her hand atop mine, stopping its absentminded movement.

I turn my gaze to her again, seeing the genuine concern in her green-brown eyes. "I don't know."

"I know it's hard. You and Alex lost your mother. Jacob and I lost our aunt. Mum lost her baby sister. And I know it's harder for you both because of everything with your Dad. I'm not going to pretend I understand how that feels...but Sam, you don't need to put on a brave face. No one expects you to be all healed and ready to move on. This isn't exactly something one moves on from. They just learn to live with the pain and longing."

"Cath." I'm not sure how to respond. Even though she's only a few months older than me, these past couple of years she's really stepped up as a big sister, always making sure I'm okay and not becoming too overwhelmed by anything.

"Seriously, it's okay. Just let it out."

Her arms come around me and even though my feelings are still a tangled mess I don't want to unravel yet, I hug her back and close my eyes as a few tears escape. "I miss her," I admit quietly. "Why did she..."

"She's in a better place now. Wherever she is, I'm sure she's happy."

I let Catherine's warm hug comfort me. I let her gentle words wash over me. I let them sweep the mess in my mind under the rug and silence the voice that's been yapping at me constantly for the past two years. The one that keeps telling me everyone is wrong.

You see, everyone believes my mother took her own life. The police confirmed it. The coroner's report confirmed it. My mother's letter confirmed it. But the thing is, it was my fault. I gave her the pills. She asked me for her sleep medication in the middle of the night and then I woke up the next morning to be greeted by her cold body.

If only I hadn't given them to her. Or maybe I should've given her the dose she needed and not the whole bottle. I could've just taken the correct number of pills out of the bottle instead of trusting her to take the medication properly. But how was I to know she was planning to overdose?

Still I can't help but feel partly responsible. The shock of finding her body in the bed and the almost empty bottle of pills on the floor, her arm reaching out as if she was trying to cling onto life in the last moment but realising it was too late, is something that haunts me to this day. I didn't scream or cry, just slowly fell to my knees as I put two and two together.

Alex found me a while later staring at her. He was too young to understand what was happening, putting his hands on my cheeks and asking me why I hadn't woken Mum up yet when she had planned something special for my birthday. Something special, huh?

How was that something special? Thanks Mum, really. Thank you so much. I am truly grateful that you...no. No. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for not being able to help you as much as I should have. Maybe then you wouldn't have done this and we'd be laughing and smiling as we celebrate my birthday today. I wish you were here. It's supposed to be a day of celebration but now, it's a day of grief.

****

Sighing, I read the message on my phone once again before putting it away, leaving it unread. I do this every time he texts me. Read but not reply. I know it's bad but I really hoped he would've given up by now. It's been two years after all. I guess we're both persistent and stubborn. I'm trying to push him away and he's not letting go. Birthdays, Christmas, Easter, New Years...even when there's no occasion, he never fails to let me know that he's still thinking of me and he's there for me and all I need to do is let him know and he'll come running. I appreciate it. I appreciate all of it, but I wish he'd stop because it hurts.

I know this is harsh and unfair of me to say since he's a victim too but he's become a reminder of my father's betrayal and that betrayal led to Mum's passing and it's just too much to handle. When it all happened, I shut down and retracted into myself. I stopped being a daughter, a friend, a cousin. The only thing I focused on was being a sister to Alex. That's all that mattered to me. As long as Alex was smiling and laughing, I managed to cope. As long as he's okay, I'm okay. If he's happy, I'm happy. That's what I kept telling myself to make each day a little easier.

It's wrong though, isn't it? This mindset isn't healthy for me because it means I've been neglecting myself. If I keep it up, I'll break. Why does it matter though? It's an easy pattern I've fallen into so it'll be no challenge to keep going this way. Until, of course, I go so far that I become lost and no longer know who I am.

That's what happened to Mum. I'm assuming something similar happened to Dad. They both fell into a comfortable pattern and didn't realise how bad it was until they were forced out of it. Dad lost both of his families – his own fault, I know, but it must feel horrible nonetheless – and Mum couldn't cope with reality so decided to leave this world.

If I choose to break out of it before I'm forced to, will it be easier? If it's a conscious choice I make by myself, will it be easier to deal with the obstacles on the way? I have to do this for myself and then by extension it will benefit those around me too.

Except what exactly am I meant to do? I don't know how to prioritise myself or take care of my needs. I don't know how to process the chaos in my mind or swim through the feelings I'm drowning in. All I know is that I'm tired of feeling miserable, tired of feeling guilty and tired of feeling tired. I don't want to hate myself or the world on my birthday. I want to feel happy and grateful for being alive. I want to find beauty in the smallest things and cherish everything.

My phone buzzes again as another message comes through. He told me grey can be beautiful too. I want to start believing that.