Читать книгу Little Girl Lost: Volume 1 of the Little Girl Lost Trilogy - Cindy Hanna - Страница 7

CHAPTER 2

Sally cannot help but question.

How did my marriage manage to survive?

While pondering, she realizes that getting through the tough challenges together is what made James’ and her relationship stronger.

“Divorce,” Sally mutters aloud. The word leaves a vile taste in her mouth.

What a nasty word. Why do so many people get divorced?

She remembers back to when she was first familiarized with the concept, recalling her “sleepover” friend, Julie Anders, from her youth.

* * * * *

Julie’s parents, like Sally’s, do not get along—their disagreements end one day when Mrs. Anders announces, “I want a divorce!”

There is no more shouting or name-calling, just that awful word— divorce. Sally, unaware at the time, soon witnesses the life-altering effects it has on individuals. The changes come rapidly. Mr. Anders moves. Next, their house sells. A month later, Julie and her mother move to Texas to live with her maternal grandparents. Sally never sees her friend again. It is all so sudden—so permanent.

Three years pass since the argument where Sally screamed at her parents to stop fighting. She is ten and Eric eight.

It’s not fair. Eric and I shouldn’t have to grow up this much.

We’ve seen and experienced way too much.

Sally finds that the less she is acquainted with the word divorce, the happier she is. Soon, however, she discovers that she is not immune. Divorce descends upon her own family like a dark cloud, eclipsing the sun’s rays.

One day, her mother finally has enough: enough beatings, enough verbal abuse and enough feeling helpless as she watches her husband beat their children. While their father is at work, her mom packs a few belongings for each of them. Completing her task, she calls, “Come on, kids, we’re going to stay with your grandparents.”

Eric questions, “But what about Daddy? Is he coming?”

“No!” She takes both children and seeks sanctuary with her parents who live in Pasadena. Her father helps her file for divorce. He also protects her and the children, like a ferocious pit bull, when his son-in-law arrives, demanding that his family return home with him.

Time passes quickly after her parents’ divorce. Sally and Eric stay with their mother, per the court order. In an act of kindness her father doesn’t often show, he moves out so his wife and children can return home.

Sally and her brother grow inseparable. Their community, centered on conformity, places a negative stigma upon them. Sally is protective of her younger brother, often commenting, “It’s just the two of us.

Gotta look out for each other.”

“Promise you won’t ever leave me,” Eric says.

Sally hugs her little brother tight. “I promise. I’ll always be there to protect you.”

Eric smiles and hugs her back.

The siblings take solace in being the other’s best friend and confidant. They have each other. Alone, their mother shoulders the burden of being a divorcee. Sally watches how her mother is shunned from social circles and repeatedly turned down when she volunteers to help with school and team activities.

She observes her mother’s frustration.

I’m never going to put myself through the hell of divorce.

Sally feels the sharp sting of rejection from the same neighborhood kids she has always run with.

I haven’t changed or done anything wrong. My parents just got divorced. I don’t understand why the other kids avoid me.

Sally is jealous as she watches other kids play together with their complete families.

Look at them with their cocky smiles, the one that shows how happy and safe they feel.

She wants to run up to them and shout, “Wipe that smug grin off your face! Don’t you know? Nothing ever stays the same. People change and families crumble right before your eyes.” Instead, she chokes back tears and turns to her brother as an ally.

The McFees feel freest at the beach, where they blend in with the masses and have a sense of anonymity. Whenever they can, they drive to their sandy sanctuary for several hours of therapeutic fun and relaxation.

Years pass. Sally becomes a pre-teen and then a teenager. Her mother never remarries. Sally and Eric become more inseparable.

The day Sally gets her driver’s license, Eric is there to congratulate her, “Way to go! Weren’t you nervous?”

“Yeah. I was scared I’d screw up.”

Upon arriving home, their mother looks at Sally and suggests, “Why don’t you two take the car and drive around a bit?”

“Really?!”

“Sure. Just be back before dark. Okay?”

Sally smiles broadly. “We’ll be back before it’s dark. I promise.”

Grabbing her brother’s arm, she makes a dash for the door before her mother can change her mind. “Come on, buddy, let’s go.”

Eric high-fives his sister. “Partners in crime?”

“Always!” Sally responds, high-fiving him back.

They feel invincible—she sixteen, he fourteen. The world is their oyster. They cruise around a bit to experience Sally’s new freedom before ending up at the local pizza joint. After spending the afternoon munching on pizza, sipping ice-cold sodas and playing video games, Sally and Eric head home.

The next day is a spectacular Saturday—perfect beach weather.

Sally and Eric ask, “Please, Ma, can we go to the beach today?”

Their mother shakes her head. “I wish I could, guys, but I’m swamped.” She brightens. “But Sally can drive. No reason you two can’t go.”

“Really?” Sally asks. “You trust me to drive all the way down there and back—alone?”

“Sure, honey. Just as long as the two of you stay together.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Sally says.

Excited by their new independence, the siblings load their stuff into the car and head down to Redondo Beach. It is a glorious day, complete with blue skies, waves calling to them and the smell of sunshine on their hair and skin. Sally grabs her boogie board and says, “Last one in is a rotten egg.”

They race out into the waves. Due to the riptide that day, they keep repositioning themselves back near the lifeguard tower and stay out in the waves for hours, catching one good run after another, having the time of their lives. Eric looks at Sally as the day begins to wane.

“One more ride? Then we can leave.”

Unable to resist his puppy dog face, Sally says, “Okay, one more, then we’ve got to head home.”

They paddle out on their boards and wait for the perfect wave. It arrives, and they align themselves to ride it in. Positioning themselves side by side at its crest, the two smile broadly at one another. Sally says, “See you on the other side.”

They both paddle in earnest and begin to ride the top of the wave.

By the time they realize their mistake, it is too late. They have over paddled and drop out over the crest of the eight-foot, monstrously powerful wave. Unable to stop what is happening, Sally desperately looks at her younger brother and yells, “Hold on, Eric, this is gonna get rough!”

“I’m scared!” he says, his eyes opened wide.

Sally offers him a reassuring smile. “I won’t leave you.”

Over the top they both pitch and are immediately sucked headfirst, straight down into the foaming churn of the whitewater. Sally cannot distinguish which way is up or down. Unable to hold her breath any longer, she gasps for air, her lungs filling with burning salt water. She begins swimming as hard as she can, clawing her way to the surface, choking and gagging. Breaking free, she fills her lungs with air, spews out the saltwater she has taken in and then swims for land. She pulls herself out of the water and staggers onto the shore, dropping to all fours still gagging and coughing up saltwater.

Turning around, she expects to see Eric alongside her. All she finds is his boogie board. Gooseflesh blankets her skin. Standing up, Sally scans the water to locate him. He is nowhere to be seen. She runs up and down the shore calling his name. She sees him, limp and broken at the water’s edge. Lifeguards encircle him.

Running to her little brother, she hears someone call his name in guttural tones—it is herself. “Oh, my God! Eric. No! Eric!” She drops to her knees by his side.

One of the lifeguards tries to pull her away but she fights him, crying, “Get off me! This is my brother.”

A second lifeguard steps in to help pull her away. “Miss, you’ve got to let them do their job.”

Sally relents. “What’s wrong with him? Why isn’t he moving?”

One of the lifeguards answers, “Looks like he’s broken his neck, probably when he hit bottom.”

Horrified, Sally looks at her brother’s lifeless form.

He’s so…pale.

“He took in a lot of water,” the lifeguard continues. “They’re trying to breathe life back into him….”

The lifeguard cannot bring himself to finish. Sally helplessly watches as they work on Eric for what seems like forever. She hears the shrill wailing of approaching sirens in the distance and mumbles, “What am I going to tell her? How will I— She trusted me— I was— I was supposed—”

She rides with her brother in the ambulance as the EMTs furiously attempt to revive Eric’s still, small body.

He’s so grey. Come on, buddy, fight. I’m right here. Don’t leave me.

Every mile they drive draws Sally into a deeper state of shock.

Her heart pounds, her skin grows cold, and her mind thrashes against the horrific scenario playing out before her.

Upon arriving at the hospital, they pronounce her baby brother— her buddy—her soul mate—her confidant—dead.

Sally falls into a zombie-like state, going through the motions of life, yet gaining no enjoyment from them. All she wants is to smile—really smile again. She simpers on the outside while crying on the inside.

I just want to laugh with him again. I loved belly laughing with him until we couldn’t breathe. I feel so cold—frozen—like an isolated iceberg.

Sally hates to be cold. She is alone and feels alone. Nothing she does has any real meaning. She awakes, sobbing, every night reliving that dreaded moment on the beach.

Why did we take one more ride? If I’d insisted on leaving, Eric would still be alive. Why did I let him talk me into catching that wave? Why?

Sally avoids going to bed until the wee hours of the morning, fearful of nightmares. Her stomach muscles hurt from constantly crying. She hugs herself in an attempt to halt the impending ache. A sickening artificial smile appears on her face and her eyes burn as tears flood them, endlessly streaming down her cheeks. Silently, they come like Ninja soldiers making a stealthy attack. Without warning, they overwhelm her.

Just once I want to win this emotional war. But I can’t. This is what I deserve—this hell I’m living. This is my punishment for failing my little brother.

And so her torment continues. Sally falls asleep sobbing and awakes crying out to Eric. Every night and morning, there is a fresh puddle of salty tears soaked into her pillow. She hates the mornings most, for with them comes the gut-wrenching reminder that she has to face yet another day without her beloved brother. There seems to be no end to her purgatory.

Sally’s mother has her own demons to contend with. Wracked with the grief and guilt only a parent can feel, she questions her every decision of that fateful day and seeks clarity by journaling.

Why did I let Sally and Eric to go the beach alone? Why didn’t I go with them? Surely I could have saved Eric from that horrible accident—if only I’d been there. Why was he taken from me? What did I do to deserve this? What did he do wrong? Why wasn’t I allowed to say, Ügoodbye”?

I can’t stop scorning myself for not giving him a hug before they left for the beach. It’s stupid. I was washing dishes at the time and my hands were wet. I was too worried about dripping water on the kitchen floor to give my son his final hug goodbye…and now I’ll never be able to hold him again. Why didn’t I just take the time to embrace my child?

When will these incessant daunting questions stop plaguing my every thought? At times, I think I’m going mad. Might be easier if I did. At least then I wouldn’t be aware of the immeasurable pain I’m in.

I’m a horrible mother! A good mother would have kept her son safe. A good mother would have saved him. A good mother would have been there with him as he lay dying: to hold him, to hug him and to comfort him. Why wasn’t I a good mother? How can I do right by Sally, after so completely failing her brother? I can’t. She’s better off if I just stay out of her way.

I know Eric’s death isn’t Sally’s fault, but…. Why did Sally let them ride an eight-foot wave? She should have known better. As the older sister, she should have seen it coming and protected him. I am a horrible mother. I just realized that deep down I do blame Sally for the loss of my son.

At a time when they should be drawing on one another for strength and comfort, Sally and her mother fall into the pit so often visited by those overwhelmed with grief. They grow further and further apart. They speak to one another only when necessary and spend little time together, avoiding the house that reminds them of their terrible loss.

Just as Mr. McFee’s violent temper had never been discussed, Eric’s death is their elephant to ignore. It takes its toll on Sally and her mother. Since the day of the accident, neither has been able to bring herself to face Eric’s bedroom. Instead, they close the door. This allows them to fool themselves into thinking that perhaps Eric will come bounding out of his room in his goofy manner at any moment. But they both know better. His contagious laughter will never again liven their house.

We’ll never see his twinkling green eyes or feel the warmth of his embrace.

These are the realities that neither can bear to accept, so Eric’s room remains sealed—unaltered—as if a shrine. Their loss and shame is never faced.

Collectively, mother and daughter come to realize that it is better to keep his room shut and ignore it, than to face their shattered emotions.