Audrey Hepburn's Pearls: Part I

Chapter 90.1: 1995, Georgina

Chapter 90.1: 1995, Georgina

These early mornings are the worst. When I wake up scared, not knowing where I am for a few seconds… I expect to still be in that apartment, expect to see Paulie in the doorway before I open my eyes. He looked over me, watching me to make sure I was still breathing even though I did not want to breathe.

He understood, I really think so. After I told him how I felt, he believed me and understood me. He tried, at least. That’s all I could really ask for. Somebody, who understood and could ease the pain even though there was so much pain.

But I remember he went through so much pain, too. On these quiet mornings when my thoughts are the only things hanging in the air, I remember what happened to him and I can’t bear the pain.

How could such a kind heart turn into what I saw in those photos? He looked so beautiful to me anyway… That picture of him in the hospital bed. He was so thin, like a corpse, but that wig he wore gave a reflection of old times. I knew that wig. To think it survived. It was long and brown, dark brown. Curls, wavy hair. Soft hair. The curls framed a face I did not know, but I knew those brown eyes. Gone of kindness, but they were his same eyes. Those sweet brown puppy eyes.

Sometimes in his apartment, he’d hold my hand in the wheelchair and we’d sit together. He’d be on the couch, I’d be in that wheelchair unable to move. I refused those painkillers. It was a stupid thing to do, but I didn’t want to be like him. He’d abuse any medication that came his way, and to be honest I was afraid to be like him. Even using the pills as prescribed, I was scared. I could see what medications could do, and I was terrified.

I’d hold his hand, squeezing his hand even though he hurt. He let me, and that is all I could really ask for.

He explained to me why I hurt. Frankie did, too. That doctor cut me up. My insides, he cut me up too wrong. There was fire in me, down there, and it just hurt all the time. I can’t remember now when it stopped hurting, but it did for a long time. Too long.

I am damaged everywhere. I’ll never be complete, and that hurts, too. Paulie understood that, but he isn’t here anymore to understand. Its hard to know if anyone will understand again.

My mind is damaged, too. I know that for sure. I can hardly speak. I can hardly stand to see anybody, I can’t go outside. The medications make it better, but I am scared of them, too. I am scared of everything.

In bed, I can’t move. I don’t want to move. Too much damn pain inside, no longer physical but its everywhere. It makes my limbs heavy, too hard to move.

Every year around this time its too hard to move. With each passing year, the memories fade a little more into the distance but the hurt is still here. Those feelings never ebb.

The only happiness I feel is, when I awaken a little more, I can see this is Cha Cha’s room. Its real, because I see the bear I bought for her at the toy store when she was fourteen. It is the first thing I see in the morning. The bear, still in its yellow raincoat and hat, is sitting cheerfully on the dresser. Its beat up now, but we’re all beat up anyway. It is cheerful despite that, and I think this is a good lesson. A daily lesson, maybe.

There is still anger, disappointment, rage, despair. But there is that cheerful bear.

If I stare at it long enough, I think about Cha Cha. How he is her bear, has been since she was fourteen years old. Maybe she woke up just like this for god knows how long, seeing that bear first thing. What did she think when she woke up? Did she think sad thoughts, unbearable things? Did she see the bear and get cheerful?

If I think long enough when waking up, I wonder if she understands, too, if she woke up like this. And that makes me cheerful, too. If only barely. And maybe that is all I can really ask for.