|
I walk through the front door and take a look around. Nothing has really changed.
The furniture is still the same...no, wait; they have got a new coffee table. Well, the old one had really seen better days. There are the photos on the main wall. One of me, the eldest girl, then one of my twin brothers...must be a recent photo, they have really changed since I last saw them five years ago.
It feels funny being back in the old house. It holds so many memories for me...some good, others, well!
There's no sign of Tabitha the cat. Well, I suppose she was ten-years-old when I
left; she's probably dead now.
I walk up the old rickety stairs to my old room. It's still the same as when I left it. Mum and dad have obviously kept it as a sort of shrine...suddenly I hate myself for leaving.
It had been a quick decision, one minute I just had to go. There was no time to tell anyone of my plans; they would only have tried to stop me after all.
I wander into my parent's room and breathe in the aroma of lavender. My mother didn't have many luxuries; she did however love the smell of fresh lavender, and it fell in bunches around the airy room.
I suddenly notice the pots of pills on my father's bedside table. One of them I know is for heart trouble. My grandmother used to have them prescribed for her. I feel so
mean; have I caused my father's obvious illness. I pray not!
My brothers' room looks as though Hiroshima has occurred all over again. Yesterday's clothes are on the floor, and a half eaten bowl of cereal is on the pillow of a bed. I smile in spite of
myself; twelve-year-old boys are supposed to behave like this!
The afternoon sun is starting to fade, and the house descends in to a gloom. I remember how dark home always was. Even on the sunniest days, it always sat in the half-light.
I see that the door through to the integral garage has been bricked up now. It doesn't surprise me; I knew they would do that sooner than later. That alone makes the house darker still, as there was always a glass panel in it...allowing light to filter through.
My mother had always hated that door, even before; it had to have been her idea to get rid of it.
Suddenly a bang shakes me; it is the boys back from school. I hide behind the large refrigerator and hope that they will follow tradition and run shouting and screaming upstairs. Instead they are so quiet and place their school bags on the parquet flooring in the hallway.
James pops his head around the door quickly; luckily he doesn't spot me. How he's changed...more serious somehow. Dan must look the same, they are identical twins...in looks and mannerisms.
I want to call out to them, but something stops me. Whilst I deliberate about when to go, I hear the purr of my mother's car. God, what'll I do now?
I listen as two doors slam and two pairs of footsteps tread on the shingled pathway.
Suddenly I come face to face with them. I can't speak; neither do they. My mother is so drawn and looks so much older than her fifty years. My father...I almost sob, he looks like a lost soul. Every bit of him that was so big, so great...it's died. He is a shadow of his former self. I scream out "NO...I've done this to you all...please forgive me!"
They just look straight ahead of them and ignore me.
My mother tells my father that if he won't finish that...that place, she'll get someone in to do
it! She is pointing at the bricked up door and is visibly shaking as she shouts. My father puts his fingers in his ears and tries to block out the noise...life, anything.
I realize that they can't or won't see me and start to leave. Upstairs there is still silence.
It is, I suppose, my entire fault. Life was getting hard for me five years ago, and having failed my all-important exams, my boyfriend suddenly dumped me...no reason he said!
In a moment of madness I had walked through that infernal garage door and ended it all with a chair and a rope. My mother had found me hours later. Apart from killing myself, I had killed all of them. Oh yes, they were still alive, but their insides were as dead as me.
I wish to God I had never caused them this much pain.
"I love you mum, dad, Dan, James," I cry. Back in the kitchen, my mother hears the chimes sound in the garden as the breeze gently blows them.
Turning to my father she says, "She was here again...our Helen, she came back!"
©2002 StoriesByEmail.com
|
