I'm pretty sure it's my fault we're moving. Like, after mum's accident I just wasn't the same. Everything kept bringing back memories that left me speechless, none of them were good either. I mean everything; the what seemed to be very empty school hallways – yes, it's possible for a hallway full of over 100 people to feel very lonely especially when everyone pities and feels sorry for you – reminded me of all the times my friends and even strangers ran up to me asking questions "Are you Mary?" "Is your mum the one in hospital?" "Why are you at school when you could be with her?" The worst question was "Are you okay?" How am I meant to feel? Happy? Sad? I honestly felt nothing; I didn't know what was going on. I thought she was going to be fine and that I was going to see her again, that my family was never going to fall apart. I'd perfected the answer to this actually, it was routine to me, put me in a contest and I would get it the same and perfect everytime. I'd look them straight in the eye, smile, nod and say "I'm fine." My bed and my pillows remind me of all those times I stayed up until 3am crying over everything and the fact I was losing my mum. The shops reminded me of when my best friend told me that his mum told him about the accident, that he got told it was life or death and she probably won't make it. Even spaghetti reminds me too much of the accident. I was eating spaghetti at the time with my cousins and then my aunty came home, in tears of course, she pulled me aside.
"Mary. Your mums asleep" she said to me, or at least I think that was what she said.
"Wake her up" that was all I said to the situation before I walked off. That was all I thought of the situation. I thought that she was just asleep and could be woken up. I didn't know about how she wouldn't wake up and I certainly didn't know that the last time I saw her we were arguing over a stupid puzzle. I mean I knew what "asleep" meant but I didn't know that it was possible to never wake up.
The mirrors the worst thing that reminds me of mum. I'm a spitting image of her apparently. I can't look at myself anymore because every time I do not only do I see my mum's eyes looking back at me – I see eyes that are full of hate and disgust. Not that I hate people or she hates people, mum was never like that. I wasn't either until she left. It's just that I feel so responsible for her death. She needed to get to the hospital sooner and I refused to stay with her, it was just too scary for any child's eyes – to watch your own mother dying in front of you. So, now you understand why I'm so messed up.
Back to the story I was trying to tell you. We're moving and it's my fault. If I adjusted to change and that fact that mums gone then maybe I would have stayed at The Springs and not have to move to Lillian Falls. I should have kept my grades up, I should have taken the time to grieve instead of bottling it up and taking it out on unsuspecting people who were just trying to help. A fresh start would be good though and dad did just give me his laptop so I can keep in touch with everyone and he offered to unpack the house and let me choose my room because he felt bad. I guess my luck was changing after all and it was hard for dad to stay in Springs. He needed a change of scenery anyway- seeing the garden everyday that mum worked so hard on was killing him slowly.
It's been a week now I couldn't bear to watch dad unpack everything by himself. It was hard watching him open boxes and finding all of Emily and mum's things. Of course Emily hadn't died- she just ran away after mum did. We knew where she was but I don't think she'll be coming back too soon. I don't think I wanted her to actually, as much hate as I had for myself – my "sister" will always be 10 times the coward then I ever was. I had the guts to stay around and not flee off to a tiny little town with my boyfriend when I had a family that needed looking after.
My new room was perfect. Nice view, lots of space, cool but not cold and my own bathroom! Although being the only girl living with dad had its advantages like getting to use the bathroom whenever I felt like it, but when dad was in there he took longer than mum did in there. I had just finished unpacking all of my clothes when I heard a massive smash in the living room. I ran down stairs, well I slid actually- fast and down the rail. I got around the corner and looked into the living room, dad was standing there, he didn't look too angry but I could only see the back of his head. "What'd you do now, clumsy?"
I walked into the living room and saw a stack of plates all over the floor, I looked up. I didn't know what made me more angry. The fact that my dad just broke the plates I made him for Father's Day last year or that my cow of a sister thinks that she's welcome in this house after she left for over a year when I needed her. "What. Are. You. Doing. Here." I spaced out my words and spoke every letter perfectly. The voice though that came out of me, I don't even think it was mine.