What Lies Beneath

Chapter Two

Chapter 2

I didn't realize I fell asleep with my head in my mother's lap until around nine at night when a nurse comes in and wakes me up.

"You should call someone and go home," she whispers, as if my mother is sleeping.

I nod my head and stand so the nurse can do her work. I take one last look at my mother as I walk out the door, her facial expression never changing.

~~~

"Hey mom, I'm leaving for the day. If you need anything just call me."

She does not respond, only blankly stares. No motivation to do anything except stare into space while her only child is dying to hear her say one word to her. Why can't she just understand I need her? I need her to be here for me like when I was a child.

"Rebecca?" She glances up at me and gives me a ghost of a smile but her eyes are still confused. I know she needs a doctor, but I refuse to do it; she must have the strength to do it herself.

"Mom? Please, it's Matthew, your son." She slides back into her facade, but I will not allow it. "No! Come back! I need you here!" But nothing, and she slinks down into the couch, obviously terrified of my yelling.

A single tear drops down my cheek but I wipe it away quickly - I refuse to cry anymore. The feeling of pure loneliness lingers in my stomach and slowly eats away at my soul. I can tell she does not understand anything, so I run.

I leap toward the front door and the crisp summer air attacks parts of my revealed skin. I run to the main streets and keep trudging forward, every exasperated breath taking me one more step. I run as far as my body can take me until I can't take it any longer. Just then I stumble over my own feet onto the asphalt of an abandoned parking lot. I lay and cry harder this time, feeling nothing but the rising and falling of my chest with an empty heart.

~~~

I snap back to reality and turn my back on her. I walk out the hospital doors and do not stop until I reach my house several miles away.

The similar summer chill nips at my skin as I walk over the cold grass and frozen dirt underneath it. I don't pay attention to the cars driving too fast past me or any other form of life as I walk, although my brain automatically keeps replaying terrible memories over and over again in my head.

~~~

"Hello darling," I hear her say to him.

"Rebecca," I hear him say, "how glad I am to see you, it was such a long day."

"Well I'm sorry sweetie, is there anything I can do to make it better?" she asks.

"No, it's just another day," he responds. They sit in silence as the fridge opens and she takes out the dinner from the oven. It smells like turkey with mashed potatoes, his favorite. "Wow, I wasn't expecting this!" he reacts gleefully.

"Well, I figured that we need a special occasion every once in a while." I can imagine her smiling at him the way that she does - dashing and loving. Someone takes the plates from a cabinet and casually makes conversation.

"So is Matthew upstairs?"

"Yes," she responds, not thrilled in the slightest.

"Rebecca," he says, exasperation in his words, "please, not tonight."

"I just said he was upstairs and nothing more David, don't overthink it," she barks. The room sinks to silence, no other words wanting to be spoken. I hear him peck her on the cheek and leave the room. Footsteps lightly tap each stair on his way upstairs and suddenly I hear him right outside my door. I can feel his loving hug coming toward me, his kind words speaking into my ears, hoping to get me through this night once more.

The door opens, and there is nothing, not even a shadow of a reminder of who my father is, or once was.

~~~

I realize I am at my house when the familiar gravel stabs at the worn bottoms of my shoes. I look up at the vacant house and I don't want to go inside. Nothing is welcoming and, quite frankly, I'm scared of the pink room. I had never wanted to see that room and now that I have, my house doesn't feel like my own.

I walk through the same rusted door and go straight to my room, making sure not to glance at anything else.

I silently shut my door, as if I'm going to wake someone up. I take my comforter and go to my closet.

~~~

I pick up my stash of hidden crayons I had taken from the school and kept over the years and go into my closet. We can't afford crayons so I figure if I take a few at a time no one will notice. I push aside my hanging clothes to have a clear view of the back wall. The walls are drawn all over with lines and squiggles that improve as I grow taller.

I have been working on this for as long as I can remember. When I was smaller, I was only able to reach the lower parts of the wall. Now that I am growing, I use the parts I could not reach before. My creations grow with me and act as my journal. Some kids like to write, but this is my way of venting.

My entertainment as a small child still sticks with me today. Sometimes, actually most of the times, I will come in here and either stare at my drawings or add some of my own spark of color to it; it is one of the best ways to keep my mind off of everything.

~~~

I wrap myself in my blankets and shiver myself to sleep that night, rethinking over and over the sight of my mother curled and destroyed. The sight of my childhood dancing on my walls brings me more at ease as my mind drifts off into a quiet abyss.