A Few Days More - Sanders Sides

The Day I Met the Real Him

Trigger Warnings: Talks of Suicide, Suicide Note

I hopped off the cracked and lifted sidewalk and onto the front lawn of the place I call home. After a long day of school, I had to walk home alone today too. I wish I didn't. It makes my anxiety go nuts. But, Roman had a rehearsal, Remus had baseball practice, Patton when to the animal shelter to volunteer, and Logan and Damion are being heavily swamped with college shit right now.

And while it wasn't my favorite thing to walk home by my lonesome, I wanted to support my family and not drag them further from their interests.

I wiped my shoes at our welcome mat before opening the front door with my key. When I did, Mother's head shot up from her place at the dining table. She was reading through something, seeming to have lost track of time. "Hey, Virgil!" She cheerfully greeted.

"Hi, Mother," I responded. I set my backpack down, looking back up to see her coming over to me. I met her in the middle, a little nervous as too what she might say. Instead of saying anything, she pulled me into a hug. I returned it. A feeling of calm running through me as her hand stroked my hair.

"Good day?" She asked.

"Yeah," I said, wanting to ignore the mountains of homework I had in my backpack.

"Like, a really good day?" She asked again, pulling away to meet my eyes.

"I guess so. Why?" She didn't answer that. Rather, Mother put her hand on my back and guided me over to the dining table. I felt like I was in trouble. Like I was being escorted to my doom. I took a seat across from her. Her eyes lapped the book that she was previously reading. Only now did I notice it was a leather-bound journal.

"Honey, you know I love you so much, right?" She questioned. I nodded, still confused. "And you know that your Father can't hurt you anymore, right?" Again I nodded, more worried now than confused. "I only ask because, the other day when I was cleaning out my closet, I found this..."

From under the table, she pulled out a large moving box. It was shut, but I could see it was packed with things. She slid the journal over to me. I eyed it oddly as I picked it up. It felt cold and lifeless. The leather had none of its original qualities, showing its age.

There was a name on the cover though. It seemed to have been rubbed off with time, but upon closer inspection, I could read the words clearly. Amon Black, 1993.

Everything around me stopped. This was just all that mattered right now. I looked at Mother, a dumbstruck look written all over my face. Mother took in a breath, nodding her head. "That and everything in this box was your Father's." She muttered. I stared at the box in front of me.

Standing up from my chair, I could now see the top of the box read, Amon's Stuff. I opened the box, shaking from the thought of what could be inside. At the top of the box was a framed picture of Mother and Father's wedding. The two of them looked so happy, their foreheads rested against each other with big happy smiles. Father wore a classical black tuxedo with a dark blue tie while Mother wore a baby blue wedding dress.

She looked beautiful. Father looked happy, something I've never seen him. "Your father was not always the monster you grew up with," Mother told me, looking at the photo as well. "I think our wedding was the last day he was truly happy. During our honeymoon, we both drank. I didn't as much as him. But, I think he realized the alcohol made him feel calm. That made him realize he wasn't okay. Instead of fixing it, he let his problems consume him.

"If I had to guess, I'd say when you were born, your father...Amon was worried that you'd be a reflection of him. You would remind him of everything he saw wrong with himself. He wanted to love you, Virgil. But at the very same time, he was afraid of you." I ran my hand over the framed picture. Father looked so much like me. It's hard not to see the similarities.

"Are you okay, Virgil?" Mother asked.

"Y-Yeah," I answered half-heartedly. I set the picture down on the table. As I was digging through the box so more. My hand grazed a piece of ratty paper. I went to pull it out, my heart sinking into my shoes. It was a note. His last note.

My eyes read it, shaky breaths leaving my body. 'Dear Sinthia and Virgil, you know where this is going. I'm sorry. You two both deserve something better than what I can give you. I've caused my own son so much harm and my wife too much pain. I can't repay the pain I've dealt. I can't go back and change. Today is my final day. Yet, I hope you both live happy lives. Forget about me. I know that's a big thing to say. And even if you don't believe it, I'll miss you.'

"Why didn't you ever show me this?" I said to Mother. She turned her head, silver tears slipping down her soft skin.

"I didn't know how you would take it," She admitted. "You were just starting high school. You were having daily panic attacks because of the PSTD your father gave you. I didn't know how this would affect you." I looked back in the box while Mother wiped her tears.

I found another picture frame. In it, was a picture of my Father. He looked about 10 in the picture. It made me smile. There were two other girls in the picture, both were older than him. My aunts.

"I wanted you to know, Virgil," Mother spoke up once again. "You don't have to see the rest of this stuff. I don't want this stuff to hurt you. I just wanted to show you this on a good day. I wanted you to see the Amon Black I remember. I don't want you to live with those awful memories anymore. If it was up to me, I'd take them. But since I can't, I want to replace them."

"Thank you, Mother," I cried, pulling her into a hug. And we stayed like that for the rest of the afternoon. Going through Father's old stuff. Trying to feel like a full, normal family. Something we haven't been in a long time.