The Worst Year Ever

Help

Monday, July 9th, 2012

Help

I wake up to find Mom sitting on the edge of my bed, just watching me. I am confused for a moment, and I actually start to think I'm just seeing things because Mom hasn't come to see me in my room in months and she hasn't left the couch of the downstairs living room since Skylar died besides the other day when she made breakfast. When my eyes start to focus, I realize that I'm not seeing things and Mom is actually there, sitting on the edge of my bed, watching me wake up.

I lean up in my bed and look curiously at Mom. "Hey, Mom. What's up? Is everything okay?"

"Yes, everything is fine," she says, but doesn't expand.

"Okay," I say, still confused. "Not to be rude or anything, but why are you sitting on my bed, staring at me. I mean, that's just kind of weird."

"I needed to talk to you about something," she says.

"Okay," I say, and then, "please go on. Don't leave me waiting in this suspense."

Mom doesn't smile. "Well, I have to tell you, Helen, that I'm worried about you."

"Why?" I ask her.

"Well, you've been talking to yourself a lot lately since Skylar--passed," she chokes on the last word. She takes a deep breath before continuing, "And you don't seem as sad as you should be that Skylar is gone." Tears start to well up in her eyes, and she takes another deep shaky breath before continuing. "It's almost as if you feel like Skylar is still alive."

"No, Mom," I counter. "I know that Skylar is dead, I just know that she wouldn't want me to mope around all the time--"

"I know that too," she interrupts me, "but I still can't help but cry and be sad all the time. And, Helen, I think you might need help to help you through Skylar's passing."

I raise my eyebrows at her. "Help? As in therapy?"

She nods.

"That's ridiculous," I say, kind of angry now. "I don't need help. Maybe you're the one that needs help, Mom. You are the one that's moping around all the time and can't seem to put a smile on your face to save your own life."

This makes Mom cry even more and I feel a little twinge of remorse but I quickly shake it off. Mom opens her mouth as if she wants to say something else to me but thinks better of it and she gets up and walks out of my room, covering her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out loud. I almost decide to get up and go after her and apologize. Almost.

I just think that the thought that I might need the one that needs help is utterly ridiculous. I'm not walking around moping all the time like she is. I may seem like I'm talking to myself a lot, but what she doesn't know is that I'm not really talking to myself. I'm talking to Skylar but if I told her that, she might really decide to get me some help. I think she is the one that needs help because she is having a particularly difficult time with this and I can tell. Everybody can tell.

"Harsh," I hear a low murmur from besides me and I look over to see Skylar standing in the doorway to my walk-in closet.

"Well, she actually had the audacity to come to me and tell me that I need therapy when she is the one who is constantly crying, and walking around like someone just frickin died or something."

Skylar raises her eyebrows at me, and I just look at her, slightly confused, and then she points to herself, and I understand. "Oh, yeah."

Skylar shakes her head at me, smiling at my idiocy. We sit there with each other for a moment in silence and I can tell that Skylar is thinking about something. I've always been able to tell when she has something on her mind.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" I ask her.

"Just thinking," she says with a shrug of her shoulders. I raise my eyebrows at her, carefully not looking away from her face. She just looks at me with those blue eyes of hers, seeming to still be thinking about something.

"Okay," she caves under my steady gaze. "Well, I was just thinking again about why I died and the meaning behind it and I am getting nowhere. I don't even have the slightest idea about what my unfinished business is supposed to be."

"Well, Skylar, it's only been a week," I tell her, "You're bound to not get very far in only a week. You just need a little more time. You'll figure it out."

"Well, that's something else that I've been thinking about," she tells me. "I might need your help to figure this all out."

"My help?" I ask her, shocked. "And what can I do?"

"I don't know. I just think you would be able to help me," she says, sounding helpless.

"Well, I don't even know where I would start," I say to her.

"I don't either. Just try to keep your eyes open," she says. "And keep me posted if you think you found out anything interesting. You can call me and I will come to you."

"I still don't understand this. Why does there have to be a meaning behind why you died? You got into a car accident and you died, that's all there is to it."

"That's what I thought too," she said, sounding frustrated. "But God sent me back to the earth, and he told me that I have unfinished business and didn't even bother telling me what and he also told me to keep an eye on you. I told you everything that God and Jesus told me."

"Yeah, I know, but why do you have to keep an eye on me?"

"That's kind of what I'm trying to figure out, Helen," she says. "Just keep me posted if you--I don't know--see or hear about anything concerning my death." Skylar's shape suddenly starts shifting.

I am confused for a moment and I jump off my bed. "What? Is Mom sneaking on the stairs again?" I peak my head out of my bedroom door but I see that the stairs are completely clear of my sneaking mother. I turn around to face Skylar again.

"No, it's not that, Helen," she assures me. "I told you that the longer I stay here, visible to you, it gets harder to keep my form, and you may not be able to tell, but it is extremely hard to even keep this blurry form of mine right now." She looks down at her blurred shape before looking back up at me. "Look, just remember to keep an eye out, and to call me if you find anything, but for right now, I have to go invisibly wander the physical world." And then she disappears completely.

"Bye," I say to my empty bedroom.