Reaching the Shore

Part 3

It was around eight when I decided to get up, I took a taxi, left my car parked near that park, and I got home.
Home that no longer seems like home, home that I thought was so small and now seems to be huge.
My mother and sister's things are everywhere, even in my room, and it's strange because they never went in there or maybe I didn't notice them.
The photos, the books, the shoes, their clothes.
And everything is in disarray, because I haven't touched anything since the police arrived to search.
I won't be able to do it, not with all these things around me, I won't be able to sleep and I haven't done so in weeks.
I get up and decide to tidy up all the mess there is.
I start from the kitchen, I hide their cups with the hope of feeling less pain tomorrow morning, I clean everything and move on to the living room, then to the bathroom, I throw away their toothbrushes, their products, their make-up, everything that is theirs , and I move on to the rooms, I start from mine, the easiest, and in the end I move on to their rooms, but I stop, I freeze, I don't even go in, I observe them in silence, I lock them and I go to my room where I throw myself on the bed looking at the ceiling.
I like cleaning, it clears my mind, when I clean or am busy doing anything my mind doesn't seem to work, it shuts down, and it hurts me less.
And now instead I think and think and I feel like I'm going crazy.
I look at the ceiling and wait for sleep to come.
Tomorrow will be a new day, a different one.
I will have to move on, go back to doing what I used to do, to live my life, with the only difference being that I will be alone this time, my mother won't be there for breakfast, my sister won't be in the car begging me to take her to school, there won't be Ethan in the library waiting to study together, there will only be me, and it scares me, because I'm afraid of getting lost without them, of not knowing what to do.
In the end I fell asleep even though it's late and I wake up too early.
I only have two hours of sleep but I feel somehow energetic.
My mind is set on the goals I have set for myself, and on nothing else, I have turned my heart off for now, I will not allow it to make me feel weak or useless.
I get ready, I look at the empty table in the kitchen without eating anything and I go out.
Hiding the cups was useless because everything reminds me of them, and the desire to eat or go into the kitchen isn't there anyway.
Once outside, I remember that the car is parked near a distant park, and I would go and get it but I'm busy and I can't be late.
I take a taxi and go to my mother's restaurant.
She had opened a small restaurant a few years ago, it was her dream, "the shore", facing the sea, but she left, even if her dream came true now she is not here, there's only me.
I look at the empty shop window, the roses placed in her memory in front of the door, and I look around.
The restaurant is exactly as she wanted, all in white and blue wood, flowers everywhere, marine decorations, photos, a large sign with the name of the place and a large orange tree in front of the door.
The place screams my mother, and I didn't believe that places and objects could be sad but The shore seems so, every single piece of furniture, every single vase, every single piece of cutlery, even the walls seem sad without her, it was she who gave life to this place, it was her smile, her jokes, the coffee she made me in the morning before lessons together with our chats, her laughter, the songs she hummed while she worked and the breaks she constantly took to talk to her friends at their usual table.
I look around, and it's as if I'm reliving everything again, I remember the past scenes here, I remember many things and while I do it I'm afraid of not remembering some, that my memories will stop existing.
I start working, stopping every now and then to observe the sea waves and passers-by.
I clean everything, and I call Jessica and Sonia, the waitress and the cook who worked for my mother with the hope that they are still available, and they are, I tell them to come at two, I open the restaurant, several people arrive, I serve them the coffee before Sonia, the waiters and the dishwashers arrive, and before other customers arrive I sit on a chair overlooking the sea and I check my phone, various messages, emails, and useless notifications.
Nora wrote to me several times, and called me at least twenty times, yesterday I didn't write to her and she was probably worried.
I call her and she doesn't answer.
I hate it when she doesn't respond, even if I haven't responded to her for hours, I imagine her frustration.
"I'm in class, sorry, is everything okay?" she writes to me.
"Oh God sorry, I forgot, yes everything is fine, sorry if I didn't answer you."
I forgot that there is class at this time, which I chose not to go to.
I have decided that Mondays, Fridays, evenings and weekends I will spend them at the restaurant, to carry on my mother's dream, I don't want this place to close, not after my mother worked so hard to have it, I will try to send it forward, even if it will be difficult and the rest of the days I will focus on university, I will dedicate myself to studying.
It's difficult but it's not impossible, I hope.
Sonia and Jessica arrive and greet me with a big hug and very sad looks.
"We are happy that you called us" tells me Sonia, a woman in her fifties who however seems much younger, who is the cook and best friend of my mother , I have known her since I was little.
She is a very kind person, she has big eyes, short dyed blonde hair that she always keeps in a low ponytail and two pink cheeks and a bright smile, she is short and thin and always wears floral dresses in summer and colored sweaters in winter.
Jessica on the other hand is a twenty-seven year old girl, and she is the waiter and cashier, she has worked here since day one, she is also very kind even if she doesn't speak much, she is often silent, but she is still good with customers.
She has long black hair with purple locks that she always keeps tied up, blue eyes, she is full of tattoos on her arms, and she almost always dresses in black, I like the way she dresses, and I remember that my mother often begged her to wear a blue shirt because according to her it would bring out her eyes more.
After a few minutes the place fills up, and we all get to work.
Sonia goes into the kitchen, and Jessica starts fixing the missing things and the other two waiters and the dishwasher also arrive.
At the end of the day everyone leaves and only me remains.
I turn off the lights, close up and decide to take a walk on the beach.
It's half past ten, the beach is full, I observe the people and the water which is a large black space that cannot be distinguished from the sky.
There is a bonfire and a group of teenagers screaming and laughing and I watch them smiling, because my sister would have loved a bonfire here, she would have loved playing the guitar with her friends around the fire on the beach at this time on Monday.
She was the opposite of me, she was what I describe as ''being alive'', she wasn't like me, she was extroverted, sociable, romantic, impulsive, she had a strong character.
She and our mother were very similar, not only in character but also in appearance, they both had blue eyes and short light hair, and the freckles, the same features, the same height, even the same style, they were identical.
Many times I envied my sister for this, because she was closer to my mother than me, because their relationship was more special, not that I was treated differently or excluded, I simply noticed that they were closer, but I didn't see it as something negative, my mother had no preferences or anything, perhaps it was just the fact that she saw in my sister herself when she was younger, she said it once, we were at the table and we talked about similarities and characters Ethan was also there, he was the one who started the debate, he was talking about the fact that they told him that he was a copy of his father, and that in his opinion it's not true, although in my opinion it is.
And my mother said that my sister is her copy, then we got to me, and she said that I look like the man who was supposed to be my father.
I remember crying that night, I hated what she said and the fact that she said it, I hated and hate talking about him, and that statement was like an insult.
Nobody noticed that night, because I didn't say anything, but I was annoyed.
And I know that my mother didn't mean to hurt me, or bother me, but she hurt me anyway, and what hurt me more were my sister's strange looks that seemed to judge me.
Now I smile, I smile at the stupidity of that episode, at how touchy I was and I smile because every moment spent with the three of them, even when I got angry, I felt offended, or annoyed, now I would pay to relive it, I would do anything, I miss everything about them .
I get up, take a taxi, and arrive at the park.
My car is still where it was.
For some reason I can't and don't want to go home, the idea of ​​having to go in and not find anyone, being alone terrifies me, makes me feel even more alone.
My house doesn't feel like home anymore.
It was they who made it so, their presence, not the walls, not the roof, not my bed, not my things, not me.
I find myself thinking again, observing the sea ahead.
This place is so calm, there are few people walking around, and a couple of stalls selling food, the only sounds comes from the cars on the street, the waves of the sea and a street singer who however can be heard far away and who in fact I don't see.
I know that sooner or later I will have to get used to it, that it won't go away but that I will simply have to learn to live like this and that with time it will hurt less, but it seems impossible, it seems impossible because it is as if I no longer have an anchor to hold on to, I don't have a reason, someone to live for, I'm fucking alone and I can't give meaning to my existence, and it always ends up like this, that I'm abandoned, everyone abandons me and if I could I would abandon myself too.
Does it make sense to swim if there is no shore to reach? Isn't it better to stop and reach the end, the bottom?
It's tiring to keep going, it's very tiring, and in moments like this it seems useless, I seem useless.
I sound pathetic.
My throat tightens, my stomach starts to hurt, my head spins, my hands shake, I can feel my stupid heart pounding, my body weak, and my tears still refuse to come out, my eyes, they burn but no tears, nothing, just my stupid heart and stupid thoughts seem to work.
I look at the sky and try to calm down.
But breathing is difficult, moving is difficult, it's like I'm really drowning, as if I've reached the bottom, and I'm unable to rise to the surface, it's like it's too late.
Is it really too late?
They've all gone away, what am I still doing alive, why do I still have to suffer while they're gone,they are already on the shore, on the shore of a place that I can only reach if I let myself go, only if I throw myself, only if I drown , a place that I will reach only if I stop thinking, that will make me stop thinking, that will make me stop suffering, because maybe I'm not as strong as I thought I was, maybe I deserve to go too.
If I go no one will suffer, I won't hurt anyone, I won't do like my sister, she left me knowing she was my last anchor, she left as if she hadn't left me behind, as if I wasn't worth it, she didn't even saw me worthy for a goodbye, she knew that I was suffering for our mother, for my best friend, and she was selfish, and I will be too, even if I won't leave anyone alone by leaving.
I too will dive into the sea and I will reach my mother.