An Innocent Mistake (#Wattys2016)

Chapter 30

I peek in through the gate, clasping on to the grill that spills the nightly chill in my hand. The lights of the house are on, showing from the windows. But the room upstairs that has always been mine, is dark. I assume that nobody has touched my things, my belongings which I haven't seen for so long- that it's enough to make me forget how exactly they look. Except the cozy bed and the flabby blanket which I want to burrow under. Huddle into tightly, wrapping my whole body. And never come out of it.
The manicured grass, and trimmed hedges are thickly green, unaffected by the autumn air. Except the variety of flowers that bloomed in the spring are gone. Their petals are shriveled. The standing post lights at the edges of the lawn are dimly glowing while two wicker chairs are hanging out without the owner. I remember there used to be a small wicker table on which mom and dad used to put their coffee mug. Then I wonder what if they changed the lawn furniture and they are the new ones. Maybe I can't remember well. But beside that barely anything looks different.
"Your house is so beautiful." Martha whispers like a ghost next to me. Her eyes are left wide open, absorbing the sight.
"How do I go in. I am really scared of mom and dad's reaction." I turn to Martha. "What would they do?"
"They won't kill you."
"I am afraid if they will yell at me." I cast a glance on the pavement, where the swinging shadow of the branches from the tree appear like hungry fingers of a monstrous creature.
"Maybe. Because your mistake is not small. But don't take my words seriously. They might be really happy to see you after a long time."
Martha scares me even more.
"I know everything will be really bad." I walk away from the gate, fingers slipping off the grill. I want to look back but fear whips my heart. It all seems impossible. I can hardly see myself in front of mom and dad, hanging my head low in guilt.
I go over by the fence and longingly stare at the house through the bars. Martha comes after me and places her hand on my shoulder. "You were so excited before, then what happened now? Why are you lost thinking about bad things?"
"I don't know. I am having a bad feeling. When I think something good will happen, it never happens."
Martha launches a sigh. "I know this is really hard for you."
"I can't do this. "Uneasiness inflates my chest, making it difficult for me to breathe. I feel a bulge of guilt growing inside, pounding with my heart. I keep telling myself, mom and dad hate me. They will not accept me.
"You can, Beth. You are strong enough to do this."
"No. No." I fall to the solid ground, hurting my palms. "I am weak." I rock back against the fence, watching the empty road running down the long block. Trees sway over head as the wind howl. I feel cold and scared.
Martha crouches down and sits against the fence too. There are dark circles under her eyes as the eyes itself look hollow, and distant.
We sit side by side, linked with a sisterly feeling.
"You are very lucky that you belong to this amazing home. I would have never runaway if I lived in here."
"I know my mistake. But I was blind back then. I thought stupid things like they were the truth. My life was much better than the one with Ragenite."
"Maybe you lived there to realize how beautiful your life is. Someone like me can never think of it like that. I have never thought that one day I will be free from my bad aunt. She always made my life hard and terrible."
I ponder as Martha speaks. She gives me a slight relief. I realize I only need some supportive words to reduce my tension.
"I wonder where Julia must be. At home. What if she moved away?"
"Is Julia the one that you used to go to park with?"
"Yes."
"Is she still your best friend?" Martha asks, skeptically. I feel her eyes acute against the side of my face, while I idly stare out. I give away to the drowsiness, bellowing my mouth wide open to yawn.
"I guess, if she still thinks so. It feels like ages since we have met each other. She might have changed."
Martha holds a long pause.

🍁

After an immense while when I wake up, I find bright morning greeting me. The black night is gone and white clouds are scattered across the light sky.
I recall the moment I fell asleep, talking to Martha. Thinking of her reminds me of the head unconsciously resting on my shoulder, at the edge of falling. I think about waking her up, but she is trapped in the deep sleep, whistling as the air trespasses in and out of her nose.
I tuck my small hair behind the ear and maneuver Martha's head off of me. The moment she feels the inconvenience, she jolts out of sleep, startled as if the earth has moved under her. She twitches her eyes at the pale day, but spending whole night outside unwillingly, has probably caused her to feel less cold. Like me. She pummels her eyes with the fists.
"It's morning." She says like I haven't known it before her.
"We slept outside the whole night." I curtly remind her, looking inside the house. I wonder what is the time and what are mom and dad doing. They sure are home because cars are parked in the driveway.
"I am really hungry." She whines.
There is nothing left in the bag to give her, except the residue bar that I can share. I take it out and noisily unwrap it. "I have only this left."
"Beth, I don't like sitting here. I want you to go inside your house. Don't be afraid. We spent the whole night here. Please?"
I consider the idea. Should I really get over the fear? Stop being afraid?
Martha gives my body a minimal shake and I take my eyes off the gray ground. She looks at me eagerly, expecting a positive response to come out. But bad thought overpower me.
My left leg feels like metal rod is strained through to produce a sturdy balanced effect, as if I have lost my limb. I struggle to even slightly move, but it strikes a pang of pain. I close my eyes to eliminate the suffering.
Martha gets up before me and kindly assists by slinging my arm around the nape of her neck to life me off the ground. Though my leg screams in pain, I still manage to stand on my feet clumsily with the constant help.
"How's it?" Martha asks.
"It's barely alive." I figure it must be due to sitting in the same position for hours.
"Will you be able to walk?"
I nod. "Yes. Kind of." But trap in vulnerability, afraid to fall without support. "Can you carry my bag? Thank you. And sorry it's heavy."
Martha shoots back down against the fence, clasps on to the strap that has come to the edge of tearing apart and hurls it on her shoulder. Her back crooks under the weight.
Reaching up to the wrought iron gate, not far from where we sat. I notice the padlock is securing the two giant gates. I can't do anything. Only dad can unlock it when he leaves with the car.
"Now what are you gonna do?" Martha dabs the concern. She gropes through the gate design for the proper view.
"We probably have to wait."
"Until when?"
"Until someone comes out."
"What if they don't?"
I give her an apparent look. "Someone will. I don't know when exactly." I gently bend down to ease the ache in my lower thighs, as I move forward.
We begin to return to the calloused spot on the solid pavement that the hustling voice swerve into my ears from the back. Like that is the only audible sound I am capable of hearing, and beside that everything stays strangely unheard. I turn around holding my leg in an explosion of surprise.
Dad. He is out of the house heading to the driveway. Suddenly, my heart beats sharply. I barely have control over my nerves. Just then a hand slides over my shoulder and I flinch away. I know it is Martha, then why do I react like that. I steal the glimpse of her face- smeared with excitement and optimism.
"Don't be scared. Just act like it's a normal thing."
I stay motionless. Quiet. Refrain from answering.
I look back to see what dad is doing. Is he coming over to unlock the gates. I peer in closely, finding mom standing on the gravel with folded arms. She is not dressed up for work, but instead watching dad cranking up the car engine- roaring to life. Dad comes out of the car and heads toward the gate where I am standing on the other side.
I turn away to avoid it from happening. This is not true. I don't know how to face him.
The clapping shoes on the cobble path sounds closer every second as I wrestle to keep myself steady. I wish I hadn't done this. I wish I hadn't run away from home. I can't take the guilty.
The rhythmic steps stop quite distance before the gate and I try to maintain the stagger breathing. It becomes terribly hard. The wind pushes pass me but I am unmoved, pretending to look stiff and dead.
"Hey there." The voice calls. "Hey-hello, who are you over there?" Sound becomes aggressive and I panic.
Martha doesn't speak because she is took stunned to produce words. I keenly charge my glance at her. Then she says, "He is coming."
I hear the jingling of the lock. I know dad is angry and this is the worst moment I can be in. What if he yells at me because he thought I was someone else, and later found out it's was me. Bethany. What will he do? Seize my arm and stomp me inside to burst his vile anger on me?
"Who are you? What are you doing out here?" Dad treats us as we are some anonymous. But Martha is. Just then I feel his presence behind my ashamed back.
I slowly turn around, gaze planted on the ground, meeting with his polished black shoes.
Dad backs away two steps, and crouches down staring up at my face. I keep my head low.
"Beth." A faint whisper spurs his mouth to move. I steal tiny imperceptible look of his face, myself drowned in the disastrous humiliation. "Is that you?" He doubts if he has seen me in someone else.
Not squeal from me.
"Bethany, my child. You are alive and safe. Tell me I am not dreaming." He speaks in disbelief. "Regina." He screams back at the house. "Our Bethany is back. She is here. Come."
I muster the confident to fight eye to eye. Dad is shocked; frenzy of incredulity storms out of him. Instead of what I expected- he sweeps me into his arms pressing me against his business suit. The perfume from his body runs into my nose making me feel his closeness and affection.
"Where have you been? The day we found you were missing, we searched up everywhere. We informed the police station for missing child report. But you were no where." His voice sounds like he is holding his tears.
"I am really sorry, daddy. I am really really sorry. The life is no good outside the house."
Dad takes me apart from him, while his hands still grasp my arms. He doesn't want to lose me again.
"Have you been on the streets the whole time?" His worry tenses.
"No." I say. "A lady took me to her house. I lived with her."
"How was she to you?"
Just in time, mom arrives in astonishment, her jaw drops in awe. She runs up to me. "Bethany, my baby." She snatches me from dad and embraces me tightly. She shower the kisses on my head. "I thought I lost you for forever. I don't how I thought you were dead."
"Regina, don't talk like that. We have found her."
"Don't forget she came to us. Otherwise where haven't we looked for her." Mom talks bitter in my love.
"I am sorry, mom. I gave you so much worries and made your life hard."
"Why have you done this?"
"Because.."
"Because?"
"I thought you stopped loving me. You and dad always worked and I thought you both forgot me." I nervously speak, my heart beats in my throat as if it would leap out of my mouth.
"Really? I am sorry to you, my dear. I caused the problem. Otherwise you wouldn't have ever done this."
I pull away from mom, realizing Martha is left alone. I see her smiling at me.
"Come, Martha." When she comes forth. I introduce her to mom and dad. "This is Martha, my new best friend." I entitle her with a close relationship. "I wouldn't have been here if it wasn't for her."
"Hi, Martha." Mom says.
"She helped me so much that I can't thank her enough." I see Martha's complexion explaining the light abashment. I am standing with mom and dad, and she is divided by a small space between us.
"Come on, Martha." Dad breaks his silence. "Wouldn't you want to come to your best friend's house?"
She fiddles with her fingers. "Yes." She says.
We go inside. When mom opens the door, my eyes are big as owl looking around the place. My beautiful home. Everything is same, but I am more happier. I feel a altered vibe. I breathe in a new beginning. Truth accepts me and I accept the truth.
"From today, Martha, will live us right in this house." Mom declares. "I will always think I have two daughters."
Dad gazes both of us with pleasure.
"Isn't that true, Larry?" Mom wanders over to dad.
"Indeed. It would make us even happy to see our daughters happy. You have come a long way. We won't let you go back without nothing. If you want we can talk to your parents."
Martha becomes sad. "Dad, you can't talk to her parents because- they are dead." I go over to solace her feelings.
"Oh, I am truly sorry." Dad realizes.
"Come here sweetie." Mom calls her over, and when she does, mom bends forward and says, "Don't ever feel alone. You will always have us as your parents. Now you are part of our small family. We will give all the love." In return, Martha responds with her quietness.

🍁

"I can't believe this is really happening." Martha and I roam the green lawn- wet grass brushing our bare feet.
"Your parents are really nice"
"That's why it seems like a dream. I don't know why I made such mistake. They forgave me so easily."
"They truly love you. They don't want to loose you again."
I take Martha around the tour of my house. I show her everything on the outside. Then as the salty cold starts to eat my skin, I head inside, closing the door behind. I rub the sides of my arm to produce heat. Since mom seems to turn the heater up, the warmth pats me to comfort.
Dad has gone to his office, while mom stays home. She is working in the kitchen. I see her carefully taking out the China platter out of the delicate pile of dishes from the cabinet and goes back and forth to gather up snack with the pure apple juice filled to the brim in the glasses.
Instead of going upstairs, I tempt to go to the kitchen.
"Are you taking out snacks for us?" I curiously pry.
"Yes. Can you take these glasses over to the center table. In the living area. I will be right with you."
"Okay." I happily carry them.
Later, mom brings the snacks and places it on the table while we sit on the sofa.
"Thank you, mom."
Mom curls her lips in the happiest smile. It makes her look unique and beautiful. I learn that sometimes you don't mean for things to happen but they still happen. They are inevitable. If I hadn't runaway and realize from my mistake, then everything would have been same.
I am extremely glad this happened. If I think or not, but mom certainly calls my mistake innocent. Perhaps I made an innocent mistake.