Falling Colors

Chapter Twenty-One: I Still Said Nothing

The wind whipped through my hair filling my nose with the smell of oncoming rain.  I looked up at the sky as I walked back towards my mother’s grave; dark angry gray clouds were rolling in, making the sky seem heavy.

        Leaves decorated the neatly cut grass and I jumped over the majority of them, thinking about how I had a game like this with my mother when I was younger.  My mother had loved fall and had a million games for me to play with her.  It was one of the many reasons why I loved fall.  When autumn came I thought of my mother and all the happy times I had with her.

        My dad was within sight now.  He was kneeling down by her grave, one hand on her gravestone; I could hear a slight mumbling and slowed my pace so I wouldn’t disturb him.  I wanted him to have as much time as he needed alone with her. 

      He rarely visited my mother anymore; this was the first time I remember him coming this year.  He never told me when he was coming to visit her by himself, but I could always tell when he had gone because he’d be solemn and quiet for a few days after visiting. 

       Lightly I dug the toe of my combat boot into the grass.  I had to ditch my three inch suede boots due to all the mud that had gotten on them.  They had been destroyed and could not be cleaned, but I couldn’t part with them just yet; they sat in the corner of my room with mud stains all around them.

     Something cold and wet hit my cheek and I wiped it away with my hand; rain had begun to fall.  I looked up at the sky and saw the threatening gray clouds from earlier were now almost black.  I began walking towards my dad again; he hadn’t seemed to notice the rain that was progressively falling faster.

      I picked up the pace, and soon I was there, next to him, lightly putting a hand on his shoulder.  This was the first time I’d touched him in four months.  He had made attempts to touch me, put a comforting arm around my shoulders, hold my hand, all the basics a parent is born with to know how to comfort a hurt child.  I on the other hand had strayed away from comforting him in anyway.

       His body went rigid, and he dragged his gaze away from my mother’s grave.  Tears were in his eyes, but his eyes were happy almost grateful.  He gave a weak smile then stood up, and held my hand lightly in his, not wrapping his fingers around and trapping it, just holding it there and staring like it was a small butterfly.

       “I guess it started raining, huh?” he mumbled, longingly he stared at my hand.

       Raising my eyebrows in response, I removed my hand from his and put it in my coat pocket, gripping tightly onto the envelope that was in there.  I wanted to go home and sleep away the barrel of emotions I was feeling.

     “We should get going,” my dad said, not making a move, but instead stared at his opened palm where my hand had been only seconds ago.

      Turning on my heel, I began walking towards the car before he spoke again. 

     “Odette, she’s still here for you if you ever want to just talk, okay?  She might not answer you directly but she’ll listen.  Sometimes that’s nicer than having someone give you the answers to the questions you have.”  He picked up one heavy foot after the other and passed me going towards the car. 

       I watched him walk away for a few moments, before I turned around and headed back to my mother’s grave, setting a cold hand down delicately on the headstone. 

      My lips quivered and I kept moving my tongue around in my mouth trying to get the feeling of what it would be like to actually talk again.  I did miss talking, sometimes, but not enough to begin doing it again.  If I spoke one word, then I would have to talk about everything, and I wasn’t ready for that, even if everyone else was.

       I thought of something I’d want to say to my mother now.  Should I tell her why I did it?  What I was feeling right now?  What I had been feeling then?  How much I missed her?  How much I missed my old life with her and my dad? 

       So many possibilities of things to say, yet I still said nothing.  I didn’t even think anything or give a silent prayer in her direction.  I stared at her gravestone for a few more moments then got to my feet and went to the car where my dad was waiting with the heater on.

       My hair was dripping and my clothes clung to me, but I ignored the chill that was going through me.  The rain had picked up while I was out there, but it meant nothing to me, it was simply crying the tears I wanted to cry but didn’t. 

       He put the car into drive, and off we drove towards home where Leigh would be waiting for us with an earnest and understanding look on her face.