We Were Gods: Oleander: Book One

A Twist For the Worst

The school year has come and gone. Once again, I did not pass my classes. I would like to use my "God" predicament as an excuse, but I know that even without it I would still have not passed. I cannot even count how many times I've been held back. I'm picking at the tattered quilt mother made long ago, the dusty fan groaning above me as my parents speak in hushed voices in the kitchen. Everything tastes stale. Rolling over on my side, I let out a sigh. I know they are talking about me again. Lindie quietly plays on the floor beside me. Every once in a while she looks up at me and grins wildly. She is the only thing that keeps me going these days. We recently celebrated my birthday and hers.

My forearm stings where a fresh tattoo is beginning to scab. I received the tattoo at a party the other night in commemoration of my flunking and failing life. It has been months since I've last talked to Ra or so much as opened my book. I am refusing this life as a God. I just want to be normal and have fun. I-

"They're goin' to drop him, Patricia. They're ain't nothin' we can do for him now. He's past the age where it's acceptable to even be in school." I can almost feel my father's disapproval. Don't get me wrong, my parents never really "punished" me but their disappointment and disapproval was more than enough weight on my shoulders for punishment.

"He can do it though, Wilbur. Maybe if we got him to a different councilor... or more meds! There has to be something... There just has to."

"Darlin'..." The pain in his voice is a slap in the face. Tears well in my eyes and I wrap my arms tightly around myself to hold my heart in. "We've tried everythin'. Our boy just ain't cut out for school. He's just-"

"What about that man?" The silence is almost unbearable. I do not know who they are talking about, but the heaviness between them is enough to scare me. I roll back over, my bed creaking as I face the door. "He said Ole would have problems. He warned us a long time ago and-"

"Do you really believe that psycho? Pat, you're graspin' at straws here... we have to be rational."

"Our boy's not dumb, Wilbur. He's just-"

"Not driven." The words are like a death sentence. "He can't stay focused on anythin' long enough to really care. He's always creatin' random little projects for himself and then never finishin' them. He doesn't see anythin' through and he doesn't care. He just assumes that we're always goin' to be here to take care of him. I can't keep doin' this, Pat. We can't keep doin' this." Before I even know what I am doing, my body is pressed against my doorframe, door in my trembling hand. "I love him, Patricia. You know I love him with everythin', but... he should have never been our burden to bear."

The world stops.

My lungs freeze.

My heart screams.

"O-oh! Mon chou cou, you feeling any better?" My mother's wrinkled face is pulled back into a smile that doesn't meet her eyes when she sees me. Neither one of them heard me walking out to the kitchen.

I am going to be sick.

"W-what do you mean, dad?" I whisper, stomach bile rising to the back of my throat. "Whose burden am I?" I stare up at him, eyes narrowing.

"That didn't come out right, son. I didn't mean it lik-"

"No. You did mean it. Explain yourself." I have never in my life talked like this to either one of my parents. We have always had a solid relationship, even when I'm breaking their rules they still love me. "I need answers, now."

"Oleander Wilbur Lavouie, you stop acting like this right now." Father warns, arms crossing over his sunken chest.

"I just want some fucking answers!" I stomp, rationality out the window. Both of my parents gasp. Never, in all of my years on this Earth, have I sworn at either one of them. I haven't so much as uttered the word "Jesus Christ" in front of them.

And then I hear the most terrifying sound I have ever heard. My mother wheezes, hand against her chest as she struggles to breathe. My father and I run to her; my parents' eyes locking in fear. "Mama! What's wrong?!" I place a hand on her arm; her skin cold to the touch.

"Call for help!" My father yells, cupping my mother's face in his hands. "Breathe, Patti. Breathe, darlin'."

The thing about life is it sucks. It's unpredictable and eventually all of it ends. Everyone dies. And let me tell you something, nothing and I mean nothing prepares you for the death of a parent. The two hardest things a person can go through is the death of a parent (or guardian) and the death of a child. There's no way to heal from it and there's nothing you can do to stop it. Death comes to us all and time is simply borrowed. If you have someone you love today, I suggest you go ahead and tell them that. Not one person is promised to live until tomorrow. No one is promised another second in this life.

Not even you.