Mirrors

Resiliency

Chapter Thirty-Two

Resiliency

The first step was to accept it. But healing is the longest process. You ask yourself whether or not this is really happening. You ask yourself if you have a problem or not. Why am I feeling this way? There isn’t anything wrong with me. There shouldn’t be. But as you look closer and deeper into your heart, the more you realize how broken it is. No matter how much you try to wind yourself up, you just keep falling back down. You’re like a windup music box: later the music just dies out.

Resiliency; some people have it, some people don’t. I might say, when it came to emotions and feelings, I was equivalent to a guy. I always felt that I should cope on my own, being the brave person that I pretended to be. There was no need to tell mom or dad. Virtually all the friends I knew were at the other side of the country. The people in my middle school were dumb asses—at first. I never gave them a chance—not until the eighth grade.

Eighth grade: the best year I had since I’d moved away. When friends accumulated. When I started to be comfortable in my own skin. When I met my best friends.  

That was when Valerie started to change to Irene. I might not be the little Irene I used to be, but I definitely wasn’t Valerie anymore. The biggest mistake I had? The emotions I decided sealed off into a bottle, into the bottom of the ocean. I made it sink somewhere I couldn’t see it any longer. The anger, the hatred, the sorrow: they were gone. I wasn’t happy; I was empty.

Freshman year, a wonderful surprise came during Christmas time. Mom and Florence came home. After three years of leaving, they had finally come back for the holidays. It was an emotional time, where Mom and Dad reunited with open hearts. Apologies were given and received. Hugs and tears were Christmas gifts. I gave my mom my first kiss and hug since she left. The anger that filled up inside me over the years melted away instantaneously.

Finally, things were finally getting better. I had a brighter future and a better relationship with my family. Even though the scars still showed a bit, like the five cutting marks on my arms, the storm had finally passed away.

But as the thunder rolled by, the last lightning bolt struck. And tragedy came my way. You all know the rest of the story.

The memories stopped after seeing and apologizing to Valerie. I was back in the ocean where it was empty and quiet again. But I wasn’t alone this time. Little Irene and Valerie swam in front of me, side by side and smiling. They held each other’s hand, then held out their free hands to me. I accepted it gratefully.

“You have one more person to meet,”  little Irene said.

“One more person?” I asked, surprised.

“You hadn’t forgotten older Irene haven’t you?” little Irene asked.

“Older Irene?” Valerie smirked. “Everyone’s older than you in comparison. Don’t you mean Irene Valerie?”

“Irene Valerie?” I repeated.

“Yeah!” little Irene answered. “She started calling herself that after high school.”

“Do you want to meet her now?” Valerie suggested.

Something dawned on me. With everything so calm, with everything I finally understand, I hadn’t given the chance to think about my family in the present. They must be worried sick for me. My death was so quick, so unexpected. I wanted to see them, just to check how they were coping with my lost.

“I want to see my family first,” I blurted out.

“What do you mean?” little Irene questioned.

I nodded my head. “I mean: I want to see my family before anything. I want to see how they’re doing without me. That they’re all right.”

“All right,” Valerie and little Irene said in unison. They let go of each other’s hands, revealing the mirror behind them.

I treaded for a second, looking at the dazzled mirror. Then I swam toward it, slowly moving my finger through the mirror. It felt like nothing, like it was part of the ocean. It displaced because of the movement of my hand. I pulled my hand away, feeling nervous. But unlike the other times before, the mirror didn’t pull me without my consent. It seemed to wait there, letting me make my own decision for once. And so, I swam in.

Closing my eyes was the only way for me to prepare for this. As I opened my eyes, I found myself in Quinn’s room. Florence, now nine years old, sat on Quinn’s bed. Quinn was twelve—the unlucky number. They sat there in silence. They were in each other’s company, but they hadn’t had anything to say. I stood in between them, as awkward as them. But inside, I felt happy to see them again.

Though, I haven’t paid too much attention to them, they remained an important part of my life. They helped me stand up on my feet, helped me realize that life was better than it seemed. Sure, they could be total donkeys at times, but that was what normal siblings do. No matter how much anger that came out of me, I always knew that I’d love them and they loved me.

I walked over to Florence and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. I whispered an apology to her, for making her life a living hell. I moved to Quinn, the sister that was the closest to me, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. I whispered, “I love you,” in her ear and pulled away.

A wondered look came across Florence’s face. A remorseful grimace struck Quinn.

“Did you just say something Quinn?” Florence asked, bewildered.

Quinn shook her head.

“It—it sounded like Irene,” Florence pointed out.

Quinn smiled. “You too?” she asked, nodding her head. “I heard Irene too.”

Florence began to cry, smiling at the same time. “I miss you, Irene. And I’m sorry, too.”

“I love you, Irene. Be careful, all right?” Quinn said, looking around the room, tears flooding her eyes.

“Is she our guardian angel now, Quinn? She’s not waking up anymore?” Florence asked.

“I think so.”

I walked out of their bedroom, going through the door like a ghost. Through the kitchen I went, finding my mother. She was fixing up dinner, cleaning a piece of meat on the counter. Her concentration was focused on the meat, not being able to let anything distract her. Though, she was partially lost in thought. I went behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist like what I used to do when she was preparing a meal.

“I love you, mom,” I whispered delicately in her ear. She had heard my voice, and found herself tumbling back into a chair close by.

“Irene?” she said, looking around the room expecting me to be with her. When she realized that I wasn’t going to be there, she buried her face in her hands. From head to toe, her whole body began to tremble rigorously as she sniffled and hiccuped.

“Come back to me, baby. Please wake up, Irene.”