Lying awake in my new bed is peaceful yet haunting. It means that day one is over but it also means that another one is bound to begin.
The room is completely dark except for the little Disney Princess nightlight Kara has plugged in on her side of the room. I can just barely see the stars twinkling in the sky out of the window.
"Hey Avery?" Kara asks quietly so as to not wake up her siblings in the next room over.
"Yeah?" I reply.
"I heard your mom died. Is that true?" She inquires.
I take a deep breath upon hearing her question. Hearing the words out loud still rock me to my core. She has only been gone for a little over a week and yet it still stings as if it were just moments ago that I found out.
My reply is simple to keep from crying. "Yeah."
"How did she die?" The little girl continues asking me questions about my mother's untimely death.
I sigh. How am I supposed to have this conversation with a little girl? I still don't really understand it all myself how am I supposed to assume that an eleven-year-old will?
"They think she drowned because she drove off a bridge." I reply honestly. I do not know how else to respond other than with the truth.
"Why would she do that?"
"I don't know, Kara." I do not think I should be having this conversation with her. She is still young and innocent and I really do not want to be explaining suicide to her.
"Why would she want to leave you?" The little girl continues.
"I don't know." I try my best not to cry. Having this conversation when my wounds are still so raw, is painful.
Do I think my mother drove her car off a bridge on purpose? No.
Do I think she would kill herself and leave me here alone with my father? No.
Does everyone else believe that? Yes.
Does the evidence gathered at the scene suggest that she killed herself? Yes.
All I know for sure is that something doesn't seem right to me and that I don't want to talk to an eleven-year-old about it at midnight. It is too upsetting.
I sit up in bed and throw my legs over the side, placing them on the ground and standing myself up. I move towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Kara asks, sitting up.
"I think I need some fresh air." I reply.
"There's a window right there." I can't see her because of the darkness but I can almost sense that she is pointing to the window.
"Thanks. But I am going to go sit outside for a while."
"But, it's dark out there." The little girl's voice trembles. "There could be monsters out there."
"I know. I'll be fine. Go to sleep." I smile although I know she can't see me.
I quietly make my way down the steps and slide the back door open slowly so that I do not wake anyone up. I don't want anyone else to have the problem of falling asleep like I am. That just wouldn't be fair of me to inflict that burden upon anyone else.
I sit on the top step of the back porch and stare up at the stars. It's too cloudy to see a lot but there are enough for me to look at.
"Kara has never been good at keeping my mouth shut." Someone speaks behind me. He startled me. He was so quiet opening the door that I didn't even realize he followed me out here. He sits down beside me. The subtle light from the moon illuminates his face just enough for me to figure out who is sitting next to me.
Logan.
"I don't mind her questions, really. She's inquisitive. I just think she is trying to make conversation with me." I reply.
"She also hasn't quite learned how to know when to stop. I don't think she realized how upset she was making you." He touches my knee with his.
I shrug. "It's not like she did it on purpose. She's eleven."
"I know. But I'm going to talk to her and tell her not to ask you about your mom anymore." Logan assures me.
"No. You don't have to do that. She should be able to ask me anything." I play with my fingers. "Plus, it's not like avoiding the topic will bring my mom back or anything."
I look back up at the sky, wondering if she is looking down on me at this very moment.
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"It won't. But it might make it easier for you around here if you don't have to talk about it." He says.
I look back at him. "It's not that I don't want to talk about it. I just don't really know what to say." I reply honestly. "Or how to feel, really."
"You don't have to know what to say. Or feel. No one is expecting you to." I look up at the sky ad them back at him. Why is he being so nice? Just a few hours ago he was glaring at me for making his little sister cry. "I don't want to assume how you are feeling but I sort of do. My dad committed suicide when I was only a year old." He admits.
"I'm so sorry."
He shrugs. "I didn't even know him. But all my life, I feel like I did. Then four years passed and my mom apparently moved on with your dad. And then Peter was born and my dad's death was put on the back burner. It's like my mom forgot he even existed."
I nod. With that reveal, it is obvious that Logan feels the same resent towards my dad that I feel towards his mother. Granted, he has had a lot more time to get over it than I have, but we are in the same boat.
Maybe we can be allies and help each other through this.
