It Rains on Weekends

Chapter 3

If you're waiting for time to fast forward, just don't look at the clock.

My real dad died when I was six.

We were in a hospital, the smell of cleanser and sterilizer floating through the air, and my father's body was covered under a white cloth. Neither my mother nor me cried.

It wasn't a car crash that time, and the details were hazy, but while my mother spoke to the nurses about it I distinctly heard two words.

"Drug overdose." I had said in the car on the way home from the hospital.

"What was that?" My mother, whom was driving in the seat next to me had asked.Her long nails gripping the steering wheel.

"Drug overdose." I repeated.My mother was quiet for a moment, her gaze focused intently on the road as she drove.So I continued. "What's that?"

"Drug overdose." She repeated plainly."What is there to know?"
I tapped my fingers rhythmically against the cushioned armrest.
Tap-tap-tap.
"I mean, how does that happen?" I continue again after thinking for a second." I..I can think I know a little bit of how I should feel, but I don't feel it. Because I don't understand."
I'm quiet now, feeling that I've said enough and that now its my turn to wait for an answer.But, She doesn't answer me. Now that i think back about it, I don't remember her ever answering any of the questions that I had had when I was referring to my father's death.
She's quiet for a few moments. I was looking out the window, so when she didn't answer, I was surprised when she pulled over onto the side of the road.
"Wha-" I started,  barely turning around.

Smack.

For a second I sat there frozen, the lingering pain from her open palm spreading like wildfire across my left cheek.She had never hit me before, and her nail had cut my cheek, a trickle of blood dripping from it.I was about to start crying when I looked at her face and realized that she already was.It surprised me, as my mother had never cried before and was such a strong woman.Her left hand tightly clenched around the steering wheel, her nails digging into the leather wrapped around it.She was holding it so hard that her fingers turned white.Her other hand was still splayed out in front of her, just suspended in the air as she noiselessly cried. Her face was white and scrunched up, her mouth drawn in a tight line, and her eyes looking towards me but not really AT me.For a second we just sat like that, both of us looking like we were in a stop-motion movie, as the cars passed by.Then my mother's eyes suddenly snapped into focus and her mouth opened.

"Oh." Was all she said, the tears running down her face.One perched on the tip of her nose.The "oh" sound she made scared me a bit. As a child, I remember wondering why that "oh" was like that(at the time). That "oh" was the kind of oh that held no emotion. The kind of oh that just didn't care anymore.
Or, looking back at it now, maybe it was just the type of oh that just cared too much.
I was still at a loss for words, my six year old mind barely comprehending what had just exactly happened. "You hit me." I whispered.For some reason all I could do was state the obvious.

"Yeah I did." Apparently she could only restate my point of obviousness.Then, to my surprise, she unlocked the car door,unbuckled her seat belt, and got out of the car.

"Mom?" I was scared.She didn't respond.And for a second, I couldn't breathe.A woman who looked exacly like my mother but was not my mother was standing dangerously close to the road, motionless as cars whipped right past her face."What're you doing?"

Then she looked back at me, her eyes souless and empty, as she said "I'm going to see your father."

I was terrified.But I knew that I had to stop her.I clumsily unbuckled my seatbelt and ran out of the car, following her to the edge of the road.Except that she didn't stop there.She kept going, walking right into the middle of the road using big, ungainly steps.She looked like she was sleepwalking.

"Mom!" I screamed after her."Stop! You're going to get hit!"Again, I stated the obvious, yet it was amazing how far she had gotten into the road as cars swerved and honked around her.

She didn't respond, she just kept walking.It started to rain.

I ran after her.Narrowly avoiding getting hit by cars.

"Mom!" I screamed through the rushing wind of the cars. "Please!"

I was about to reach her, but to my horror she continued walking, stopping right in the left lane as an oncoming car barreled towards her.And, to my terror, the driver didn't seem to notice her, the headlights brushing against her pale face as it was about to collide with her.That was when my survival, superhuman six year old instincts kicked in, and I tackled her, pushing her onto the other side of the road into a muddy bank.We rolled down a small hill, through bushes,against rocks, my clothes getting caught and ripped on roots and brambles.When we finally came to a stop, we were somehow still melded together, locked in a tight embrace.I rolled off of her body and craned my neck over her face.She had some small cuts along her cheeks, and a welt was forming along her forehead.

But she was alive.

For me everything hurt, and as I leaned over her I started crying.Suddenly , I felt her hand cup my cheek.It was clammy and muddy, but it was warm.

"What happened?" She said, sounding dazed.

"You..you.." I couldn't quite explain, my crying making me cough after every word.

Suddenly her eyes grew wide."Did...did I do this?" She was still laid out on the muddy ground , and she suddenly sounded very, very awake.

"No." I managed to choke out, shaking my head. " You didn't."

"Then who did?"

"Dad did."

For a second she just stared at me as I cried, and then her eyes got all watery and she started to cry too.Then she slung her arms around me and pulled me into a tight embrace.

"Oh..Then we better do something to make him regret leaving us huh?" She said, smiling through her tears.Even though she smiled I could still tell that she was hurting, still hear the sadness in her voice.
Even as a child, I knew that she didn't regret his absence then, and neither did I.
I hugged her back, squeezing her tightly as she cried into the nape of my six year old neck.

"Yeah.Not just today but tomorrow too." I said through my tears.

"And the day after that and the day after that." My mom continued.

"And for forever."I finished."Now, we'll be happy, together."
She laughed, a laugh both brisk and morose.Cynical, cold laughter. But to me, it was loving.
Then we just both cried there, holding eachother even though we were bleeding and torn up and muddy, and even though it was raining,we weren't cold at all.

That was the first time that I had thought I had lost her.

And two years later, she met Judge.