the memories will wane,
the aftershocks remain

It killed me that I wasn't surprised when I got the phone call from Melanie. I should have been inconsolable. I should have fallen into a heap on the ground. I should have screamed, kicked, or refused to believe it.

Instead, I closed my eyes for a moment and and asked her if she was okay.

"I don't know. I think I'm angry… maybe. I was planning on calling her tomorrow to tell her about the baby. I-" she sighed and I could hear her tapping on the back of the phone, a nervous habit she'd had since we were kids. "I think that I'm relieved. Does that make me some kind of a monster?"

"Mel, don't think like that," I turned over in bed and looked at the clock. Five o'clock. There was no way I was going to sleep now. "No one could take her – no one could keep her in one place. She wasn't going to get better." I switched the phone over to the other ear as I climbed out of bed. Immediately, I regretted leaving the protection of my thick comforter as my feet met the cold tile.

"I feel so guilty," she said, with a squeak, possibly trying to conceal what would have been a sob.

I was in the kitchen now, in my just-out-of-bed slump. I stared at the two appliances on the counter and took a few moments to sort out which one made coffee and which one made toast. "You have no reason to feel guilty," I countered, as filled the glass coffee pot with water from the sink.

"I was a horrible daughter, Sam. I took off across the country when we were twelve! I didn't want 'an enriched learning environment', I wanted out!"

"There is nothing wrong with wanting out," I said, trying extremely hard to imitate her Responsible Twin voice. Looking down, I groaned as I saw my toaster overflowing with water that I had poured from the coffee pot. Luckily, it wasn't plugged in.

"I left you with her. She was nuts and I just packed my bags and got out of there without even looking back," she rambled on, as I emptied the toaster back into the sink. "We should have called someone when dad left. That's when we should have done something; she could have gotten help a long time ago. She was too far gone once we graduated."

Turning the sink on again, I filled the pot with water and carefully monitored where I poured it into the coffee maker. Satisfied, I turned it on and walked over to the pantry to grab a bagel. "The past is the past, Mel. We need to worry about what is happening right now. Do you want to call dad or start making the arrangements?"

"Oh… I think I'll make the arrangements, if that's okay with you."

Typical.

"Fine. I'll call him in a few hours, let's meet for lunch and figure out whatever needs to be done. I'll probably bring Carly, too. She's good at details," I said, while walking to the toaster with my bagel, only to remember the dripping, pathetic mess that it was.

"Thank you, Sam. I just… I couldn't handle talking to him right now. It's hard enough on normal days."

"I know, I know," I took a bite of the chewy, cold bagel in my hand. "This is really happening, isn't it?"

Her end of the phone was quiet for a moment. The thing that we had feared since we were in elementary school had finally happened. "I'm afraid so, Samantha. I'm going to let you go, alright? Will you be okay?"

I asked myself that question every day since we learned about mom's problem. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'll see you this afternoon. Bye, Mel."

I hung up the phone and set it on the kitchen table before walking to my bathroom. I put on my fluffy bathrobe that was hanging on a hook on the door, and then, stepped in front of the sink to brush my teeth. I looked up and studied my reflection. I had so much in common with my mother. The blue eyes that got a complement from anyone who was brave enough to get close, the blonde hair that people took years trying to achieve artificially, the slight frame that allowed us to constantly eat without bothering to count calories… These physical similarities were always a bit haunting, but that wasn't what I worried about as I locked eyes with a stranger with the blood-shot eyes in front of me.

I rinsed and spit before walking back to the kitchen and looking at the coffee pot that… made a beautiful pot of hot water, as I had forgotten to add the coffee. I sighed and picked up my phone and dialed a number that I was far too familiar with.

In two rings, he picked up.

"Ungh."

"Freddie?"

"What could you possibly want before six o'clock in the morning?" He groaned, "I don't have to be in until ten o'clock today, I was going to sleep in. The one morning that I can sleep in and you are going to call me at five thirty in the morning. Five thirty! Why would you do that, Sam?"

"My mom committed suicide last night."

A beat and I could hear the springs of his mattress as he sat up in bed. "I'm so – Sam, I didn't mean to. I'm sorry, I just –"

"Don't worry about it," I said, walking over to the couch and slumping down. "I mean, it sucks… But it's not like I could have stopped it from happening, I guess."

"Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"Could you come over?"

"Of course," he replied, and I could hear him hurrying as if every second mattered. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes, just hold tight."

"Freddie, could you do me a favor?"

"Yeah, no problem. What do you need?"

"I need some damn coffee."

This story is inspired by Next to Normal, a Pulitzer Prize-winning musical. I strongly suggest you listen to the soundtrack, it is phenomenal.