The alarm chirped at 6:00 am sharp, arousing Phoebe from her sleep. As she woke up and stretched, a smile was subconsciously plastered across her face, an indication of her normal cheerfulness. Then she looked at the calendar and saw the date: October 9. Her smile immediately flipped to a frown, and she let out a sad sigh.
Phoebe showered and dressed, then headed downstairs for breakfast. Her father was already at the table eating a bowl of cereal. "Good morning!" Mr. Terese said cheerfully.
"Morning," Phoebe replied with considerably less enthusiasm.
Her tone was all Mr. Terese needed to know. "What's wrong?"
"Just…thinking about her," Phoebe half-said, half-mumbled.
Mr. Terese face fell upon hearing that. "I understand. She's been on my mind recently too. Are you alright to go to school?"
"Yes, Daddy. Better to stay with routine than stay here and mope."
"Alright then." Mr. Terese stood up to hug his daughter. "I love you, Phoebe."
"I love you too, Daddy."
Phoebe walked to school with her head down. Childhood memories are usually scattered, but she remembered October 9th 12 years ago clear as can be.
Four year old Phoebe was chattering (well, as much as someone as quiet as her chatters) to her babysitter. Her parents had promised her a new puppy, and Phoebe was regaling the babysitter with the breed she might want.
"Maybe a spaniel, or a lab, or a terrier, or a…"
Her chatter was interrupted by the door opening and her parents walking in. Phoebe ran to them excitedly, but something seemed off. Why did they look so sad?
Her parents paid the babysitter. When she left, they turned to Phoebe. Her dad said, "Honey, we need to talk."
The family sat down at the kitchen table. Mr. Terese continued, "Phoebe, this isn't easy to say, but we were just at the doctor, and…" He paused as if gathering strength. "Mommy is sick. She's going to be going through a lot in the next few months to try and get better, but it's going to be hard for a while."
Phoebe's mom quickly added, "I'll still be here for you, sweetie, but I'll have to use a lot of energy trying to get better, and I won't be able to do all the things I usually do, at least for a while."
Phoebe stared at them confused. Mommy can't be sick. She seemed fine just yesterday. They played house together and she read Phoebe a book about dogs. Phoebe asked the only question she could think of. "What about the puppy?"
Her dad sighed. "I'm sorry honey, we can't right now. We have to focus on Mommy getting better, and things will be tight."
Phoebe sat and mulled it over. Her heart sank at not getting the dog, but something told her that wasn't the primary concern. She looked at her parents. Both looked worried and a little scared. Phoebe didn't like seeing that. She wanted to make them happy again.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
Her mother beamed at that question. "Of course! You can be extra helpful with setting the table, cleaning up without asking, and doing what we ask of you. We need to you to be a big girl while I go through treatment. Can you do that?"
Phoebe smiled. "Yes, I can Mommy! I'll be the biggest girl ever."
The family hugged, but Phoebe could still sense uneasiness. She comforted herself with thoughts of the puppy. She'd just have to wait for Mommy to get better, but she could be patient.
They never did get that puppy.
"Pheebs!"
Phoebe was jolted out of her memories by Arnold calling her. He was calling out for the driver's side of his used Acura, his 16th birthday gift. He was looking perfectly preppy as always, wearing a polo shirt and khakis. Phoebe blushed, both because she hadn't been paying attention and because, well, it was Arnold.
"Hey, Arn."
"Hey, Pheebs. Want a ride?"
"Umm…thanks but no thanks. I kind of want to walk alone today."
Arnold looked at her puzzled, "Um, OK. Are you alright? You look a little down."
Phoebe blushed again. "No! I just feel like taking a walk. It's such a pretty morning."
Arnold continued to look puzzled, clearly not believing her. He knew though not to argue. "OK, Phoebe. See you at school."
"See you," Phoebe replied.
Phoebe watched him leave and sighed. This day was going to be hard enough. Phoebe told herself to keep it together. She didn't need any extra questions.
Phoebe reached school and headed to her locker. Already there was her best friend since third grade, Keesha. She was the only one who really knew the details of why Phoebe would be upset today, the rock that Phoebe could lean on if things got too bad. As usual, Keesha looked perfectly made up and put together to the point that it looked effortless. In contrast, Phoebe was wearing jeans and a simple yellow top with no makeup, her usual attire. What wasn't usual was the pensive look on her face, replacing her normal bright smile.
Keesha wasted no time. "Pheebs, we need to talk. Arnold already told me about this morning. What's bothering you, and don't even try to hide it from me because I will get it out of you."
Phoebe looked down at her feet and said in a soft voice, "It's October 9th, and for whatever reason it feels extra hard this time."
Keesha's eyes immediately snapped in recognition. She put her arm around Phoebe. "You think you can make it through the day?"
Phoebe nodded but didn't look up.
"OK. I'll keep the rest of the gang off your back."
"Thanks, Keesh." Phoebe squeezed her arm in gratitude.
Phoebe was able to concentrate (to a point) in her morning classes. At lunch though, with the mundane chatter of her friends failing to distract her, she receded back into her mind and her memories.
It was a hot, humid July morning, one of those days where one breaks a sweat just by stepping outside. Phoebe (now five) was sitting in the middle of the front church pew, wearing her best dress. Her father was sitting next to her, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world. Phoebe listened to the priest talk about Mommy, who was lying in the front of the church in the casket. Phoebe wasn't listening as she tried to process what had happened.
A few days ago Phoebe visited Mommy in the hospital. She didn't understand exactly what was wrong, but one look at Mommy's frail appearance and struggles to breathe made it crystal clear. She crawled into the bed and let her mother hold her. With the machines beeping in the background, Mommy told Phoebe how much she loved her, and how her and Daddy would need to be there for each other. The word goodbye wasn't said, but even to the little girl it was obvious what was happening.
The service continued. Daddy got up and said a few words before starting to cry. Phoebe had never see him cry before, and that scared her more than anything else. After the service, Phoebe stayed quiet. A bunch of relatives and other people she didn't know kept coming up to her, but she had no interest in talking. She just wanted to go home.
Unfortunately for Phoebe, there was a luncheon afterward at the Terese home. She kept herself scarce in her room, looking through her book about dogs and wishing she could read it like Mommy could. When it sounded like everyone finally left, Phoebe came back out. She stopped at a picture of the three of them. It was taken a little more than a year ago. Everyone was happy and smiling. Starting at that picture, it hit Phoebe. It hit her that things would never be the same again. That one of those three happy faces was gone. Forever.
"Daddy!" Phoebe yelled.
Her father came into the room. Phoebe ran into his arms and sobbed for a long time.
"Phoebe! Earth to Phoebe!"
Phoebe's stupor was broken by Carlos. "C'mon Pheeblino! I finally tell a joke that gets a laugh from the peanut gallery and you just sit there like you just watched one of those distressed animal commercials."
Phoebe blushed and stammered, "Sorry Carlos, I guess I was distracted."
"I'll say," Wanda interjected. "You've been out of it all day. What's up? You didn't fall on your face in front of the cheerleaders again, did you?"
"No," Phoebe shot back. "I…I don't want to talk about it OK."
"Oh, c'mon. It can't be that bad." Wanda pressed on, ignoring Keesha's "back off" look.
"Look, I said I don't want to talk about it, OK!" Phoebe snapped. The outburst from the gang's most gentle member stunned everyone into silence. Phoebe took that as her cue to get up and storm out, holding back tears.
The afternoon passed without incident. For a while, her friends tried to get her to open up while walking the halls or by passing notes, but by the end of the day they gave up. Even Keesha couldn't get through, despite her pleads for Phoebe to talk. Phoebe couldn't get home fast enough. She had business to attend to.
When Phoebe got home, she found her father sitting at the dining room table sipping coffee and reading a book. He heard her come in. "Hey honey, how was your day?"
"Alright, all things considered," Phoebe replied half-heartedly.
Mr. Terese was not fooled, "Phoebe, you can't bottle it in like this. If you don't want to talk to me, talk to one of your friends, or a teacher, somebody."
Phoebe paused for a minute, then said softly, "I'd like to go visit Mom's grave."
"I had a feeling you would," Mr. Terese said.
"Do you want to come?"
"No, it sounds like you need to be alone this time. Just make sure to pack some food for dinner and to be home before dark."
Phoebe went to her father and kissed his cheek. "Thanks, Daddy. Love you."
"Love you too, but my point about talking to someone stands."
Phoebe got on her bike and started pedaling across town to the cemetery. Despite being sixteen, with money too tight for a car and no adult family members close enough to teach her, learning to drive was still an open question. Oh well, I could always use the exercise, Phoebe thought. In truth, she loved riding her bike. It was almost thirty years old, but still very special.
Mark Terese sat at the dining room table and frowned. His twelve year old daughter was his whole world, but she was growing up fast. During the past seven years of it being just the two of them, Phoebe had learned quickly to do things on her own to compensate for what Mark could not. He was so proud at how she adjusted while still remaining his sweet little girl.
The problem though was how she was growing physically. She kept getting taller and lankier seemingly by the day. At her last check-up, she measured 5-foot-7, and the doctor indicated she wasn't done growing yet. Keeping her in clothes that fit was becoming a problem. Mark suspected Phoebe's latest wardrobe was already becoming too small and she just hadn't told him yet. In addition, for someone who became a vegetarian at nine, she could sure eat.
Unfortunately, it wasn't just clothes that needed replaced. It was well past due for Phoebe to get a new bike, as she was now too tall for her current one. As always though, money was tight. Mark's job as an adjunct professor at the local college paid less than most people would think, and while their Social Security survivor benefits helped, that just got them over the ends meet line. Luxuries such as a new bike weren't in the cards. Phoebe never complained, and luckily wasn't materialistic, but it still hurt Mark knowing he couldn't give his daughter even the simplest of things a girl her age should have.
Deep in thought, the light bulb finally went off. Mark couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner. "It probably needs fixed up, but I bet Phoebe will love it, and I know exactly who to call to help."
Mark found the phone and dialed Tim's father. "Hello John, it's Mark…I'm doing alright, thanks. You... Hey, I have a restoration project you might enjoy."
A week later, Mark called Phoebe into the garage (which given they didn't a car, was used as storage).
"I can't believe I didn't realize this earlier, but I think I've solved your need for a new bike." He gestured to the corner of the garage. "What do you think? I had Mr. Reynolds fix it up and clean it."
Phoebe pursed her lips at the bike. It was canary yellow, and despite the cleaned up look, it was clearly old, at least of a 1970s vintage. There were no frills at all, especially compared to the new Huffys and Schwinns her friends had. Still, Phoebe knew of their financial situation, and she was happy to have a bike that could handle her lanky body better.
"It's great, Daddy. Thank you."
Mark knew (and understood) that she wasn't sure, but he knew what would change her mind. "That was your mother's bike. She loved to ride. We rode together when we were dating. We tethered our bikes together so she could guide me. Not that it always stopped me from crashing." Mark chuckled at the memory.
Phoebe hugged him and kissed his cheek. "I love it." Her enthusiasm this time was genuine. "We should get you a bike, so we can ride together. I can guide you, although I'm as crash prone as you."
Mark smiled. "That would be great, honey. I'm sure mine is somewhere in all this junk. One thing though."
"Yes?"
"Do you have to stand on your tiptoes anymore to kiss me?"
Phoebe giggled. "Nope."
Mark sighed. "You need to stop growing, child."
Phoebe proudly rode her new bike to the park to meet the rest of the gang. She first met up with Carlos and Ralphie. They were less than impressed by her new wheels.
"What *is* that you're riding, Pheebs?" Ralphie teased. "I think I saw that bike at a flea market last week."
"Yeah, and that color," Carlos added. "We're not trying to attract birds here." The two boys high fived, smitten with their cleverness.
In a soft but confident voice, Phoebe replied, "This bike was my mother's."
Ralphie and Carlos dropped the teasing. Even idiot pre-teen boys understand there are lines not to be crossed.
Phoebe reached the cemetery and walked her bike up a trail she knew by heart. She stopped right under a large oak tree. A few feet past the tree was the headstone.
DIANE TERESE
1957-1992
LOVING MOTHER, WIFE, DAUGHTER, AND FRIEND
Phoebe placed a mini-bouquet of lilies (her mother's favorite flower) in front of the headstone and sat down against the tree. For a few minutes, she just sat there and said nothing, almost as if gathering strength. She closed her eyes and listened to the birds chirping, the wind blowing, and the other natural sounds of the outdoors. Despite the morbidity, she considered this one of her most peaceful places.
Finally, Phoebe began to speak.
"Hi, Mom. Sorry I haven't visited in a while. Things have been busy. The animal shelter was having a fundraising drive these past few weeks. We raised over $5,000! Otherwise, things have been pretty normal. Keesha and Wanda I think are trying to set me up with Arnold. I love them to death, but they just don't listen when I tell them to back off. Well, I guess Wanda listened when I told her that today."
Phoebe sighed. "I guess I was a pill today at school. This day always hurts, but today felt much worse, and I don't really know why." Tears began to stream down her face. "I didn't want to deal with it until I got here, so I pushed all my friends away. I know they care about me and are worried, but…it's hard to talk about, even after all these years. I hope they understand."
Phoebe had no idea if there was anything after death, and thus had no idea if there was any chance her mom could hear her. Still, these monologues always helped Phoebe. The thought that her mom may be listening somewhere gave her the closest thing she could have to a mother-daughter relationship.
Phoebe wiped her eyes, pulled herself together and continued. "Daddy's doing alright. He's been getting closer to Ralphie's mom lately. It looks like it might be going somewhere. I'm glad. He deserves happiness, and it would be nice to have a female adult figure to discuss...things. Not that anyone could ever replace you of course."
Phoebe reached into her backpack and pulled out a notebook. "Sorry I haven't written anything new lately. Everything they said about junior year being the hardest yet was true. Next year I finally get to take a creative writing course. I can't wait. If you don't mind, I think I'll try to get some writing done here before I have to go home."
Hearing nothing, of course, Phoebe opened the notebook and began to write. She felt she did her best work out here with nothing to disturb her and (she hoped) her mother watching over. After a half hour, a voice broke her concentration.
"She's over here!"
"Wanda! This is a cemetery. Stop yelling and show some respect."
"Yeah, yeah. We found her, didn't we?"
Phoebe looked up in surprise and saw the whole gang coming towards her. "What are you guys doing here?" she stammered.
"You were acting weird and distant all day, and we were worried," Dorothy Ann started.
"So we pestered Keesha until she told us what was going on," Arnold continued.
"We went to your house, and your dad said you'd be here, so off we went," Tim added.
Keesha walked over and put her arm around Phoebe. "You're always there for us, there's no way we weren't going to be here for you, even when you were trying to push us away."
Phoebe smiled and held back tears. "Thanks guys."
She tried to come up with something else to say, but couldn't. The group sat around the grave in awkward silence for a few minutes. Ralphie broke the silence.
"Pheebs, is it just me, or are your dad and my mom getting really close?"
"Not now, Ralphie!" Keesha yelled and she hit him. Before a ruckus to start, Carlos spoke up
"Tell us about her."
Phoebe smiled and nodded. "Well, she's where I got my activism from. Once, when she was about our age, she hitchhiked to Louisiana to protest offshore drilling…"
As Phoebe continued the story, she looked over to the headstone. I miss you every day, Mom, but don't worry. I'm definitely not alone.
A/N: There are details throughout the story that were originally ideas from other fics from other authors, particularly theultimateSora. All credit to those writers.