Tattered Beauty (Watty Awards 2011)

Chapter 24

Chapter 24

I guess once you fall in love with somebody, the need to do extravagant things every Saturday fell away. It was replaced by random weekday hangouts which involved only being with each other, like Tuesday night walks in the park—which happened to be what I was doing with Daniel now.

            The weather was not as bitterly cold as usual. Spring would come early this year, I hoped. Daniel’s warm hand wrapped around mine to keep the frostbite away and also to let everyone know that he was a taken man. Today was three months to the day we had started dating. I opted for a romantic walk rather than a four course dinner. “I need to tell you something.” I said suddenly.

            “That sounds rather ominous. Very well. What is it?” He asked.

            I veered off of the shoveled cement pathway and into the snowy grass. “I need to show you something, too.” Sometimes, secrets had to be revealed. Even the deep, dark, scary ones you never want to bring to light again. My mind was telling me to leave the memory in the “do not touch” box, filed away deep inside, but my heart was telling me it was imperative to share this part of my history with the boy I was falling for.

            I stopped at the big oak tree in the heart of Central Park. This was the place where I used to come in my days of homelessness. This was the place where it happened. “It happened here.” I said emotionlessly.

            “What did?”

            I sat down on the ground—in the snow—leaning against the tree. I closed my eyes and felt Daniel sit down next to me. I could feel him trying so hard to understand. “I remember it well. Let me tell you a story, love.”

***

It was a sunny spring day in April. The leaves and flowers were beginning to bud again on the many trees above us. Remnants of last autumn’s dead leaves littered the bright green ground. It was a week before my sixteenth birthday. My family—Mom, Dad, Sarah—and I were all gathered under a large oak tree on a blue and white checkered picnic blanket. It was a day I would not soon forget.

            Little fifteen year old me was leaning against the tree. I had my guitar out on my lap and was playing random chords, hoping to pass it off for a song. In all honesty, I was awful and my playing never went anywhere, but my parents still complimented me on my efforts. “Let’s eat now,” My mom said when my ear splitting strumming became even louder. The gold watch on her wrist announced that it was twelve thirty. She pulled a case of fresh strawberries out of her bag and a couple plastic wrapped sandwiches.

            I scarcely remember my mother this way. She was younger, prettier too. Her hair was more blonde than gray; her blue eyes hadn’t yet frozen over to ice. Her face was not lined with worry as it would be in the future. Her voice wasn’t always tight and controlled. My mother used to laugh during these times. Back then, she wasn’t too bad when she was still human.

            I put my guitar down by my side and dove into the strawberries. Sarah snatched the one I was headed straight for. “Hey!” I shouted at her. “You took the one I wanted.”

            She opened her mouth to reveal half-chewed strawberry bits, “Better luck next time, little sis.”

            Sarah was my seventeen year old sister. As a child, I was completely in awe of her. As a teen, I was jealous beyond belief. Sarah was perfect: perfect grades, hair, clothes, and friends. I always felt like second best whenever she was around. She had Mom’s blonde hair and her blue eyes. Being a real life Barbie, there were always plenty of boys chasing after her.

            I, however, was an awkward turtle. I wasn’t the catch that Sarah was. I guess I just didn’t have the same flair. Maybe I was too much of a good girl. Sarah may have had the “good girl” look going on, but I knew for a fact that she liked to go out and party whenever our parents were out of town. She usually paid me off to stay quiet. Anyway, I wasn’t usually invited to any of these parties. My mother told me I just needed “time to grow into” myself. Whatever that meant.

            I took another, equally as good strawberry out of the plastic container and bit down on it hard. Stupid Sarah. She should just go move out to Harvard already, where she was accepted to go to college. She planned on being a lawyer—go figure. She should pack her things and leave.

            Then things changed. The atmosphere turned cold and scary as soon as he entered the park. It was instantaneous—I wish I could have done something to stop it.

            The boy walked up to us, “Hey, Hailey. Looking fine, you are.”

            This boy was an ex of mine who I dumped a week or two earlier. He was way too possessive for my taste. “Hi,” I said with an annoyed tone. “Why are you here?”

            “I wanted to give you a good-bye present.” He smiled, eyes wild.

            “I don’t want it, go away.”

            A gun came out of his pocket so fast; you would have missed it if you’d blinked. It was loaded and ready to go. “Die, bitch. If I can’t have you, nobody can.” He fired one shot. It went clean through my shoulder and into the tree behind me. Pain shot through me; it hurt like nothing I’d ever felt before.

            “No!” Sarah flung herself in front of me as he fired again. The bullets hit her hard: once in the stomach and another through her heart. She landed on my lap—cold and bloody.  

            He ran out of bullets, realized he was in deep, deep trouble, and scattered. He left us to deal with the consequences.

            My arm may have hurt like hell, but I knew Sarah was worse off just by looking at her. Her skin was paper white, and her eyes were half closed. Blood was rushing out of her at an alarming rate. My parents flew to her side, which was right on my legs. “Sarah! Sarah!” They screamed. The sound of their panic still rings in my ears to this day. “Stay awake, baby. Help will be here soon.” Dad was on his phone calling an ambulance—a helicopter.

            “Love you, mom.” Sarah croaked out. She was fading slowly. She turned her head to me; it took a massive amount of effort for her. She looked deep into my eyes—her eyes. “Stay strong, little sis.” And she faded into oblivion. My sister died that day in my arms, and it was my fault.

***

I moved Daniel’s hand in the dark to feel the hole the bullet made in the tree. It was still there, waiting for its explanation to be discovered.  “After Sarah died, I got on the wrong track. Parties, drugs, sex,” I looked at him, “Because nothing mattered. I had indirectly killed my own sister. She died right here and I couldn’t save her!”  Tears started pouring down my face. “I should have died. She should have lived. That’s why my family and I don’t get along very well. They want her back…and all they have is me.”

            Daniel wrapped his arms around me and held me close. “Hey, now. It’s okay. It was her time. Not yours. She gave her life for you for a reason. You have such potential.”

            “No, it wasn’t her time! It was my time. God was supposed to take me. But he took her instead. She was perfect and was going to change the world. If God was real, he would never take someone so good in exchange for somebody like me.”

            “If you never started getting in trouble, maybe we never would have met. You think about that?” He suggested calmly, wiping my cheeks.

            “Are you saying we were meant for each other?”

            “I don’t know, Hailey. I don’t know. But all I know is that I love you and I’m here for you to the end. No matter what happens.”

            Maybe God wasn’t so terrible after all. Maybe it was me he was trying to help out. Maybe I was going to change the world, too.