Time After Time || Chris Cornell

22. It Pulls You Back

Seattle Washington, April 4 1990

(Andi is 20, Chris is 25)

ANDI: "This is the last box right?" I ask as I pick up a small cardboard box from the floor of our bedroom. I glance down at the contents of the box, making sure I wasn't forgetting anything as Chris comes back into the bedroom from loading up the rented U-Haul van. 

"Yea babe," He exhales, flipping his dark curls out of his face.

After Andy had passed away, Chris had the idea for us to just get a place of our own. I think he just couldn't bare the thought of living here now that Andy's gone, and to be honest, I can't either. 

I miss him every day and no matter what I try to do to take my mind off of it, all I can think about is how I wish I could've saved him. It kills me inside knowing that I couldn't. I've been time slipping more often over the last week because of the pain and grief I am holding inside and pretending that I'm ok when I'm not. Every time I slip, I always end up in that same spot, trying to get to him from the park and seeing him being wheeled away into the ambulance. Other times I end up in this apartment but still only after he had left for the hospital, but never in time to actually save him. I hate it. It's like re-living the same memory over and over again without anyway of changing it. 

It didn't take Chris and I long to find a house that we both loved. It's a small 2 bedroom 2 story home, with a small basement for Chris and I to set up a practice/rehearsal space. It's not much but we love it and that's all that matters. The closing date was yesterday and so we immediately packed up as fast as we could to move into our new home. We honestly didn't have much furniture other than just a couch, a T.V and all of our bedroom stuff so the house is still pretty empty for now but we're working on it.

"You think maybe I should call Xana...? Maybe try and talk to her...?" I ask as Chris takes the box from me and places a quick kiss on my lips.

"No," He says shortly, walking out of the bedroom with the box in his arms.  "After the things she said, I don't give a fuck about her right now," 

Like I mentioned the last time, Xana hasn't been exactly on the best terms with us after that little blow up last week. A few days ago she decided to come back later at night, completely fucked up out of her mind on who knows what - coke, heroin and probably some whiskey mixed in there too I suspect - and attempted to take the last of Andy's things but all the while screaming at Chris about how he changed and how much of a 'fucking chode' Chris had turned into. I had never seen her act that way. It was completely uncalled for. Needless to say her and Chris had an exchange of nasty words with each other and he was about to call the cops before she finally took the hint to leave. 

Why does this always happen when someone dies? Why does everyone pick sides and end up fighting and hating each other. Same thing happened with my mother.

I know I haven't really touched on the subject of my mother since the incident between her and my father, when I heard them fighting that night but I guess I should bring it up now. 

Watching your mother die is a strange thing to go through at any age, especially when you're young. The summer I turned 16, my mother had become very sick really quickly. At first she thought it was the flu. She felt weak, feverish and would barely eat anything at all, always wanting to sleep and pretty much left me to take care of her and myself. This went on for weeks, much longer than a normal flu would last. I finally convinced her that I would take her to the doctor to see just what was wrong. After a few tests she was diagnosed with Cancer - leukemia to be exact. The type where you start to fade really quickly. If I hadn't convinced her to go, the doctor said she would've been dead within a week.

I had no idea what to think or what to feel at that point. It was like I was suddenly in a dream I couldn't wake up from. But I didn't have time to feel sorry for myself, I had to be there for my mother. So that same week they started her with a blood transfusion and chemo-therapy. 

At first she seemed to take to it really well. She wasn't as run down as before and was almost back to herself. Then as the second round of treatments started, that's when the chemo sickness began to take over and it was almost just as bad, if not worse than if she hadn't started any treatment at all. In the midst of all this, I was also time slipping. Sometimes I'd slip for a few minutes and other times a few hours - you know the usual. But I'd always make it back in time for my mother.

Then after a horrible incident where my mother had to be rushed to the hospital because she was in so much pain she couldn't walk, she had told the doctors that she'd had enough. She didn't want to go through treatment any longer and that she would rather live out her last few weeks or months feeling normal again, than to prolong the inevitable. I tried to change her mind, that she had to keep fighting but in reality she had already come to peace with the fact that she had lived as long as she could.

I was angry at first. How dare she give up and basically leave me. I was 16 years old and I had no idea how to make it without her. Again, I was being a selfish teenager not really thinking about how much she was in pain. The chemo was only to give her more time anyways, it wasn't a cure for the type of leukemia she had.

It was the Spring after I turned 17 when she passed away. I'll never forget the day. It was a strange feeling being with her until the end, saying all the things that needed to be said so that she knew how much I loved her. I also did my best to not slip in the middle of it given the fact that it was the most gut wrenching thing I have ever gone through in my life. But something was keeping me there with her, not letting me slip and miss the last moments I had with her.

Making the final arrangements with my dad was weird. They hadn't talked to each other since their divorce but I couldn't do everything myself, I was just a kid. My mother's side of the family basically got pissed and fought over everything and I was left to live with my dad, who I hadn't lived with since I was 15. It was fine though and you know we're still close now but it was a huge adjustment for him since he was used to playing clubs and bars, travelling and hadn't really had the responsibility of raising me since I was 15 - well really since I was a little girl. Eventually he got used to me again, and it was like the bond between us never broke. I finally told him all the things I held inside since he moved out and left me with my mother. I became daddy's little girl again, though I was always his little girl, we just needed to make amends. When I threw myself into my schooling and playing so that I could graduate early, it was hard for him but I had to do it. As much as I loved the bond that me and my father had rekindled, you could say I still have unresolved feelings about my mother's death, since I basically have been pretty much numb from it since it happened. That's why I wanted to run as far from it as possible. So Seattle was perfect.

I still see my mom sometimes when I slip. It's usually only for a few minutes at a time, but I'll see her in the kitchen of our old house, or when my father is just walking in the door from a gig and she greets him with the love she had for him before everything fell apart. It's comforting to know that I can still visit her, even if she doesn't know I'm there.

"Babe...? You alright?" Chris asks me, breaking me out of my reverie as he appears at the front doorway.

"Yea... yea, I was just..." I exhale as I grab my bag from the floor of the now completely empty living room. I sling my bag over my shoulder and un-tuck my curls, then glance up into Chris's blue eyes that gleam.

"C'mon, let's go home," He says sweetly reaching out for my hand. I look around the apartment one last time, quietly saying goodbye to Andy, then I take Chris's hand and lock the door one last time.

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