Habits

Shadow War

I remember the night we left the manor. In fact, I remember both nights we left the manor.

The first time was fuzzy for a while. I was still young and naive and lacked the ability to really get what was going on, I guess.

I was numb, at the time. Most 7 year olds would be when they find out their mom left them and their unborn siblings all alone with no thought to the consequences of her actions.

I don't remember much of the fighting that endured. I know Scrooge and Donald went at it for what felt like hours, both angry, both ending in tears. I remember staring at the words on the screen behind them. I wasn't the smartest, but I knew what "Lost Transmission," meant. I knew what "No Signal," meant.

I do remember when Della left. She sang her lullaby to the boys and told me she had to make a trip and that she'd be back early in the morning. I remember waking up, and she wasn't there. I just figured she had left with Uncle Scrooge and Uncle Donald.

I remember being rushed to pack only what was essential. And being taken out of the mansion, and brought to the houseboat on the marina. I remember never looking back. I wish I had panicked or threw a fit or cried or screamed. But I was silent. Numb. Cold. Whatever you want to describe it. It didn't even feel real. It was like one day I had a mom and the next I lived with my Uncle and my brothers and it had always been that way, and it always would be.

I guess the only thing I don't remember is when I forgot. Or, I guess repressed it. That's what our therapy leader called it. Repressed memories happen due to a traumatic event, and your brain not being able to deal with those memories. I guess 7-year-old me couldn't handle the thought that her mother abandoned her. Though, it's not like I'm handling that very well now. Or ever.

This time, though, it was different. The boys were numb, but old enough to understand. They'd remember. I wasn't sure if that was for better or for worse.

Our departure was almost silent. I finished my packing, the boys did theirs, and we put our stuff in the car and left. Not a word was said. The tension was thick enough to slice with a steak knife.

I wasn't numb though. I cried. A lot. I was shaking, and sobbing and an incoherent mess. It was real. This was all too real and I hated it. I didn't want this to be real. I wanted to go back to the mansion, to be with all of my family. But this was real, and I had to go with my brothers and Uncle Donald. This was real. And I had to deal with it.

The boys were ignoring me. I knew they were, because I know they had spoken to Donald before. But could I blame them? I kept a huge secret from them. Granted, it wasn't intentional, but I thought I had control over the situation. Uncle Donald and Uncle Scrooge and I had it all under control. Of course, all of that was thrown out the window when Dewey decided to climb onto the wing of the plane. Literally.

Did Donald know? Or would it only upset him more?

We stayed in a hotel the first two days, which was uncomfortable. Not because of the cheapness or anything. I just missed the sounds of Ms. Beakley in the morning, or Webby's excited shouting that could be heard no matter where you were in the mansion. The harsh contrast between Ms. Beakley's realism and Webbigail's optimism. Not that we didn't see them, though. It just took a bit for us to even get settled in. So I guess, at least that didn't change.

I... missed Scrooge's grumbling. Not that I held a grudge against him before. But he had no right to say anything about "trouble." Yeah, we get into messes and make mistakes, but that's a part of life. He built the ding dang rocket that tore our family apart. Sounds a lot like trouble to me.

I couldn't be too mad, though. It just sucks it had to be this way. Though, I guess that's just life, isn't it?

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