The Story I Never Published

nine

I Want to Give Back

~*~

As a twenty-five year-old female, I should have a very stable mindset by now. But to the situation I am in right now is making me feel like I have the brain of a five year-old.

I'm blaming myself for something I didn't even do.

"Please stop blaming yourself for Papa's death," Nevaeh pleads while caressing my back.

In between sobs, I muttered, "if I haven't left, he would still be alive."

I still remember that day Mama called my phone during class hours.

"Hello?" I whispered to my phone as to be careful not to be heard by the teaching professor.

"Quinn, are you in class?" My Mama asked from the other end of the line. I muttered a simple and quiet 'yes'. "Okay, I'll call you later," she answered and then hung up.

After class, I rushed to dial Mama's number. Without wasting so much time, she picked up on the first ring.

"Quinn," she started in an unsteady tone, "you're dad..."

"What happened to him," I asked, being uneasy and fidgety all of a sudden.

"He was on his way to the post office to send you a few things," she started through a heavy breath and shaky voice, "but a drunk man tried to steal his money and other belongings."

"Mama..." I mumbled, trying to compose myself.

"The–the man stabbed him several times," she told me as she was crying, "he didn't make it."

As I recalled these happenings, my vision became blurry, lips started to shiver, and tears continuously fell down to my cheeks. These salty tears dropped down to the marbled stone plaque, with Papa's name, birthdate, and death date, dug deep down to the cemetery's grass fields.

It was hard losing my father. Especially that I am more on my mom's side, I never got to hang out with him more. I regret not coming home when he passed away. I have alot of regrets I want to correct yet, like what they always say, you can't change the past but you can build your own future.

And that's why I'm back here, with my mother and sister. I want to make things right. I want to give back to them for all of the years that I've been gone.

And I hope that I'm not too late. Especially for Mama.

• • •

Silently, I closed the front door, trying not to make any loud noise for this big house echoes like it's some sort of  museum.

I dropped Nevaeh off to rest while I fixed some of Mama's hospital papers so my sister's probably sound asleep. It's really late after all.

I walked silently along the empty hallway, wanting to goo look at Nevaeh's room when I saw her by the living room couch lying restlessly.

"Hey," I whispered in a hushed tone. She didn't move though. I grabbed a blanket from the stockroom and spread it across her body.

I took a quick glimpse of her laptop, only to find out she was just watching Black on Netflix.

Such a koreaboo.

I was about to leave her some peaceful rest when I heard her mutter something under her breath.

"Thank you, ate," she whispered half-asleep and with closed eyes, "glad you're back."

I didn't respond any further but just let her rest instead.

I'm happy she's not mad nor disappointed in me. I'm proud of her being mature enough to understand the situation I went through. And that's enough for me.