Hope and Faith

FIFTY-SEVEN: FAITH

Things had been going well for Faith. She had arranged plans to go see her father again on the weekend. Things with her mother and Tom were going well, and Faith was actually feeling happy for her. And of course, she had Hope, the two of them seemingly closer than ever.

She no longer wanted to stress about unidentified feelings or what if scenarios. She wanted to take it day by day, seeing where life brought them. Stressing about the future wasn't going to change the outcome. So instead, she lived in the moment, appreciating every second she had with Hope.

Faith awoke on Thursday morning, an odd sensation overwhelming her. It was because of the dream she had, moments of it still lingering into her consciousness. It was one of those dreams that she had previously mentioned to Hope. In the dream, she had woken up and began getting ready for the day, which was bizarre, considering she was actually still asleep. In the dream, she felt herself waking up, making her bed, and going downstairs to the kitchen where she came across her mother, standing over the stove cooking eggs.

"Scrambled or sunny side up?" her mother had asked her.
"Sunny side up," Faith responded, then took a seat at the table.

Her mother was beaming, smiling and singing to herself as she cooked breakfast. Mike was there as well, sitting next to Faith, cutting into an omelet.

Faith's mother came around with the plate and placed it in front of her daughter. Faith looked at the plate, picked up her fork, and jammed it into the centre of the egg. The yellow yolk began oozing out, dripping off her fork and spilling across her plate.

That was when she woke up. She sat up in bed, confused and disoriented. Everything in the dream had felt so real, as though she had already woken up and proceeded with her day.

Faith shook out the odd sensation that the dream left her with and tried to continue on with her morning. She made her bed, threw on some pants, and headed down to the kitchen. Mike was nowhere to be seen, and Claudia was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper and drinking her coffee, as usual. That was how Faith knew that she was no longer dreaming. This was more realistic.

"Did you make eggs?" Faith asked as she opened the cupboard and grabbed the box of cereal.
Her mother looked at her. "No, why?"
"Oh. I just had a dream you did."
"Hmm," she nodded absentmindedly, then continued reading the paper.

Faith poured the cheerios into her bowl and sat down at the table across from her mother. It was fascinating, looking back on their relationship and analyzing how drastically things had changed in such a short period of time. Faith couldn't fathom that they'd already been in Meadow for nearly two months. And yet in those two months, so much had changed. They had their ups and downs, but when it came down to it, Faith loved and appreciated her mother. It took a lot for her to admit that, considering sometimes all she wanted to do was yell and scream at her.

For most of her life, Faith felt like no one truly understood her, especially her parents. She somehow held them responsible for Grace's death, which she knew was ridiculous, but she felt like she had to blame someone. Her parents became that scapegoat. She resented them. She resented everything they did. The divorce and the move was just the icing on the cake of an already perfect disaster.

But for the first time in a long time, things were beginning to look up for them all. Faith was happy, her mother was happy, hell, even her father and brother were happy. Faith felt as though she was in an episode of the Twilight Zone, where everything was eerily perfect and nothing made sense. How did we get here? Faith thought to herself. How did we survive all of that and somehow make it out alive?

She was feeling emotional – sentimental even, and she hated it. Faith disguised her feelings as best as she could, so that any time she felt an ounce of emotion, she tried to shut it off. But right now, something was overwhelming her and she felt the sudden urge to cry. She stopped chewing her cereal, looked at her mother, then left the kitchen and ran upstairs.

There in the bathroom, she turned on the tap and splashed water on her face. It was cool and refreshing, and she felt the slightest bit of reprieve. When she lifted her head and looked in the mirror, she noticed how pale she was. Perhaps she was getting sick.

But Faith never got sick.

It was then that she felt the nausea. She ran towards the toilet and opened the lid just in time to empty the contents of her stomach.