Tuning Heartstrings

Chapter 3

(Written July 29, 2014)

I freeze as I look at the living room—or what is left of it.

On the ground lies broken glass from the frame of the last family photo we all took. I pick up the photo and look at the smiling faces of my brother, mom, and dad.

Then, my eyes fall onto a pool of blood. I scream and I run to the bleeding body of my dad.

He is lying beside a broken bottle of alcohol. I lift his arm, check his pulse and feel nothing. I realize the blood hasn't come from an injury on his arm but from a knife that rests in the center of his abdomen.

As I sob and hug him, all I can repeatedly whisper is, "Dad."

The room feels larger in the darkness of the night, and I have never felt smaller in my life. The arms that once held me and lifted me to the sky are now lifeless.

As I weep, I realize my mom is nowhere in sight.

I get up and search the kitchen, their bedroom, and finally the bathroom. Wondering whether Dad hurt himself and whether my mom played a part, I find myself back in the living room. As my teary eyes stare at my dad, they move across the room and settle on the couch. The couch is flipped over and pushed away from the wall.

Again, a feeling overcomes me, and I feel myself drown in more terror. I get a flashback to the day my parents came home after selling their small business. They needed the money to support Connor's dream of becoming an Air Force pilot. We even sold our house and entire furniture to downgrade, but Connor and I declared that there would never be a couch as perfect as this one. After our constant nagging, our parents decided it was the one thing we could take with us.

I come back to the present moment and stare at the couch. It reeks of alcohol. I grab it by one arm to pull it into the middle of the room and flip it over. But before I can use any force, I see an arm lying underneath the couch. I quickly push the couch away and see my mother lying motionless with pills scattered around her and foam escaping her mouth. Vodka is spilled by her hair.

I touch her neck gently to check for a pulse but feel nothing. I fall onto the ground once again and stare at her face one moment and my dad's the next. I wail. "Connor... Connor, you lied. You said you'd return. You lied. You fucking lied. It's all over!"

As I continue to cry, another memory floats in front of my eyes in the darkness of the living room. It's the day Connor received a phone call informing him of his first assignment overseas. When I realized this meant he'd be gone for a long time, I began to cry. I screamed at him and cried to my parents to not let him go. I called him a liar, but he calmly reached over and hugged me. "My sweet little ladybug, Connor has to go. Lizzy, I want to fly and be free, but I will always be near you. You'll always see me in the sky." He then picked me up and took me to my bedroom window.

"See that bright star, Lizzy? From now on, that's me. Whenever you miss me, just come here and look at the star. You will be reminded that I'm always here. But for now, please let me go."

A week later, we were at the airport dropping him off. When I saw him for the last time, he looked at me with teary eyes and a big smile, "Liz, I promise I will be back."

Months later, the day Connor was supposed to come home for his first holiday, we all rushed to the airport eager to greet him. I stood grinning in a dress that Connor had bought for my previous birthday.

As people began deboarding the plane, everybody came out slowly, except for Connor. I waited and waited until I saw a familiar face. It was Shane, Connor's best friend. I yelled, "Heyyyy Shane, over here", ran to him and gave him a hug.

"Hey there ladybug, how have you been?" he asked, smiling. But quickly I realized it was a sad smile and tears were streaming down his face. I stopped hugging him and stepped away as my parents came over to greet him. "Shane, hello young man," my dad said, chuckling. "Where's our Connor, Shane, and why are you crying? Did you miss us that much?" My mom laughed in unison.

Shane picked me up while shaking his head.
My dad proceeded to ask again, "Where's my boy? Shane, we want to meet him!"

And then Shane spoke the sentence that has haunted me ever since. "Lizzy... I'm so sorry. It should've been me. It really should have been me. Connor passed away in an airplane crash two days ago. I'm so sorry."

Before he could explain, darkness filled my vision, and I fainted.