My Confessions.

Chapter 3 - Home Sweet Home

“Well.. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“No not really. Can we talk about it later?” I was in the car with my mom. I was furious after just having a huge fight with my best friend which resulted in me getting kicked out of her house.. It was stupid reason, but what can I say? She’s immature.

“Alright baby girl. I’ll be ready to listen when you’re ready to talk,” she said smiling.

“Yeah .. okay.” I quietly replied.

I reached forward and turned on the radio. After setting it to my favorite station and turning up the volume, I looked outside the window at the terrible late January weather. We wouldn’t be driving in such bad winter weather at this time of night if my insane ex-best friend hadn’t ended our sleepover before we even got to the sleeping part. I was lost in my thoughts when I heard mom’s phone ringing. Probably her work. Being a doctor takes up most of her time and energy. Yet, she somehow always finds time for her only child. We were pretty close, closer than a lot of family in this generation. Most of the time we acted more like best friends than mother and daughter.

She was using weird hand getures, implying that I should turn the radio down while she was on the phone. Me being the angry teenager that I was, I refused. I turned it up and turned back to the window, letting the song express everything that I couldn’t.

“Hold on one second…” she said to whoever was on the other end of the phone. She turned to look at me, clearly irritated.She knew what I was feeling, so she tried to sound as patient and supportive as she could while she said “Jacky! Darling, please turn it down. I understand that your cross, but this important. Now please, we can talk about this -”

“MOM!!  WATCH OUT!” I shouted looking out my window, but it was too late. We had already hit the crossing deer with so much force that it went flying onto our windshield, breaking it. We were betrayed by the slippery road beneath us, throwing our car in different directions at unimaginable speeds.

I never got to hear the end of that sentence.

                I woke up with a start and attempted to clean up the mess on my face that my tears had caused . I’ve had this dream many times in the past few years and every time I wake up with a start, almost drowning in my own tears. It was a miracle that I lived, with only a few minor injuries. A miracle that I wish had never happened. I still blame myself. It’s my fault and everyone knows it, they just say it to my face. If I hadn’t been stupid and irrational, things might have turned out a little better.

                I got up,not caring what time of night it was, and decided that I haven’t visited mom in a while. As I walked down the roads that I knew so well after visiting so many times, I couldn’t help but think of how differently things would have been if I had just turned down the stupid volume. I entered the graveyard and automatically headed to mom’s grave. I have this place memorized like the back of my hand. That’s what happens when you just can’t let go.

I knelt by the familiar grave and read the carved letters, “A beloved, faithful wife and a wonderful mother” Wonderful mother? That’s an understatement. When it comes down to describing mom, words don't do her justice. I hate myself for being the cause of such a terrible tragedy. It wasn’t supposed to happen. I know everyone dies, but it wasn’t supposed to happen so soon and that way. Mom was supposed to live a long, happy and successful life filled with love just like she had wanted. She was supposed to grow old with my dad and watch me graduate, get married and have children of my own. She was supposed to sit on the front porch on a warm summer’s day, with my one of my children on her lap as she watched dad play with the other.

But now, none of that would happen. Why? Because of me.

I didn’t notice that I was crying, not until after the tears fell onto the ground.

“I’m so sorry mommy. It’s all my fault. I’ll never be able to forgive myself. I’ll never be able to move on and live life the way I used to. You always wanted the best for me, and I know you would want me to continue to live happily and lead a good life, but I can’t. Because of me, the world lost a great person. You were one of a kind, rare and hard to find. And because of me, you’re gone now mommy. Just.. Gone. I’m sorry mommy, I’m… so sorry.”  I said hoarsely, my voice cracking towards the end.

                I sat there for a while, sobbing quietly. I did this often and it helped sometimes, but then I would remember that none of this would bring her back, or erase what I had caused. After I calmed down a little, I got up and head home.

Home. A four lettered word with so much meaning behind it.

For a lucky few, home meant warmth, smiles, security, and family. A place you could turn to whenever you needed it. A place full of great memories that occurred over the years. A safety net. Once inside that safety net, you are surrounded by people who love you and care for you.

I used to be one of those lucky few. Used to being the keywords. Now home resembled emptiness, loneliness and pain. All the great memories that occupied my household have been replaced by more tragic ones. Whether it was the kitchen where I stood with mom as we baked cookie for the neighborhood bake sales. Or the bathrooms were we would spend hours getting ready and applying make up before an event. Or the front door, where mom would impatiently nag me to hurry up every morning. No matter where I was at home, I was reminded of her and what I had done.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside with a loud sigh. I drew in a sharp breath when I saw the lights on and heard movements in the kitchen. I grabbed the baseball bat that I hid in the coat closet and slowly headed to the kitchen. I had my other hand holding my cell phone tightly, ready to call 911 at any moment.

As I crept towards the kitchen I heard a glass fall to the ground and breakfollowed by a loud “Crap!”

Unfortunately I knew that voice, I knew it too well. I dropped my baseball bat and angrily walked to the kitchen, a scowl on my face.

“Dad what the hell do you think you’re doing?” I asked. Who does he think he is? He can’t just waltz in here whenever he feels like it. Especially not at 2 AM.

“Jaaacckky…hhheeyyyy,” He slurred.”Howw yaaa doinn-OW!!”He said clearly having trouble standing still. He was stumbling around, his breath reeking of alcohol. Great, just what my wonderful night needed. Isn't he just the icing on top the cake?

 “Dad... Let’s just go upstairs. You need to take a little nap.” I said trying to stop myself from lashing out at him as I helped him up the staris.

After he passed out in his bed, I left his room to get myself cleaned up.

I lay in bed wondering how many other 17 year olds have this much on their plate as well. Probably none. Sighing, I decided that 4 hours of sleep, is better than none.

Before drifting off into a dreamless slumber, I realised that the biggest mistake I ever made, was that I took my family and what we had for granted.