1. /ache
There's a hum I feel beneath my feet and a taste in the air that's clouding my brain. In a too green forest, damp moss and roots, I feel myself trying to move towards it - to identify it, this humming; I need to see it.
I think it must be water falling hard and my heart is pounding like it's trying to keep up with each drop. Am I sinking or falling, too? I wipe at my eyes and move my feet towards this feeling. I think, at each bend in the path, that I must be nearly there. One more bend, and this must be it. I've been walking for forever. I'll see it soon, I've got to.
It's a waterfall, right?
I continue down the untrodden path, not knowing how long I've been walking or where I started from. It doesn't seem to matter at all anymore. I've just got to see it, finally. Just to see it. The sounds and smell of rushing water has filled my mind entirely. I want to feel the power beneath my feet, ran by hands through its strands.
Seconds pass and I remember that I'm weary. If it weren't for the humming, for the reminder and the promise of something more waiting for me at the end of this maze, I'd be on the ground. But there isn't much time for questions like this, or doubts, or stopping. I know it'll end soon, this moment – so crisp and delicate – I know it's about to disappear, and I'm so, so close. Just a few more steps. I can nearly feel the mist on my skin now and if I closed my eyes and reached out my hands, I swear I'd be touching it.
I can taste the cedar cool air, filling my lungs and on my tongue, as I push myself through the woods. My legs are aching and they gather strength for one final push. I push past a thick hedge and abruptly stop, almost losing my footing. I'm higher up than I thought, eye level with the crest, and on the jagged knife of a cliff ledge. I look down and balk, frightened by distance between my body and the river below. It's more than I anticipated and fear grasps up my legs to my stomach, resting in my throat. It's thrilling and feels warm, like love.
Time is running out. I know I have to jump, right now, alone. It's all I have. There is no path back, there is no back. I close my eyes and sway, bracing for the fall.
awake
But I don't, not this time. My vision blurs as I'm ripped from the forest and the promise of rivers, and my body stills. I'm back in my echoed room with barren walls and boxes; I can hear the emptiness before I open my eyes. Overwhelming dread fills me, as I come to, remembering.
I don't want to look anywhere yet. I don't want to feel anything real. If only I could've stayed in the dream a bit longer, a few more minutes. I've had the same dream so often throughout the past year so I know that once I see the waterfall, everything is different when I wake up. Like there's a secret I know that no one else does. But that isn't today. It won't be today. With a sigh, I release my hold on my dream and open my eyes. There's no point fighting anymore. Despite the hours of sleep I just got, I'm so exhausted.
I get up out of bed and avoid eye contact with anything that will draw memories of my mom or what her love felt like, as I head straight to the bathroom down the hall for the last time. Everything I do today will be either a last or a first, and I hate the finality of it. I'm not ready to leave yet and it hurts too much to think about why that is. But there's no more choice left. Today I leave my home with my mom etched into every inch of it and exchange it for my dad's sad house in a small dark wet and empty town, that reeks of abandonment and loneliness. I deserve it and now it's all I've got.
I reach the bathroom sink and splash water in my face. I can smell coffee brewing in the kitchen and the sudden wave of sadness startles me as I think about leaving Phil.
Sweet Phil, whose only crime was falling in love and marrying my dying mother, only to be stuck alone with a grieving, teenage semi-daughter with no clue how to interact with her. In the haze of his own grief, there's just no room for me here. Turns out there isn't much that ever held the two of us together, the semi-daughter and the too-young-step Dad. We've tried our best for each other, but all we can see when we look at each other is gaping hole my mom left. It hurts too much.
So to Charlie's I go. To Dad's, real Dad, abandoned Dad. Sad Dad.
Maybe our sads will match, now.
2. The leaving/arriving
"Hey – morning. I checked your flight times and they're still on schedule." Phil says as he enters the kitchen.
"Oh, cool. Thanks." I mumble. I'm so disrespectful, but I can't play pretend anymore. This, whatever it was, is over. No more play-pretend-Dad.
Ignoring my mood, he smiles softly and looks at me. "So yeah, we can head out when you're ready. Did you need any help with the rest of the packing?" he says, like a Saint.
"I'm all set – thanks. I'll send for the boxes once I get there, I'm sorry—" I've got to brush him off. Make this easier on him.
Raising a hand to stop me, trying to comfort me. "Bells, sweetie," he winces, pained; I flinch – this is how Mom used to talk to me, "Uh – sorry. Just let me know…" he finally gets out.
I've got to get out of here.
"Yep. Ok. Sorry." I say quickly, getting up. It's been four months of this awkwardness. The slip ups that remind us both of what we've lost, that sting. You'd think we'd be numb by now.
I clean my bowl of half-finished cereal in the sink and I glance at the clock on my way out of the room. 9am: one more hour till I leave my Phoenix home forever.
On my way back to my room, I yell down the hall at him to soften the blow of what we just dredged up.
"I'm just going to finish my suitcase!" One more hour.
Phil closes the trunk, as I sit in the front seat gazing at my childhood home for the last time. It hurts to think too much about potted plants and running through sprinklers or being hugged so I just focus on the lines of the house. I ignore the For Sale sign. I close my eyes and feel her on my cheek.
Phil sits in the driver seat and slams the door, bringing me back.
"And we're off!" he says a bit too loud, "Ok if I turn on the game?"
I nod in his direction as baseball radio chatter fills the car. As we drive down the sunny highway, I look out the window and try not to see anything.
I've always liked airplanes. The stale chalkiness of the forced air. The weird costumes they make their employees wear. The snacks. The routines of it all. The safety reminders that everyone will forget if anything were to ever happen. It feels like childhood and hope. I crush down that last feeling and try to focus on someone else's words. I've brought too many books for a 3-hour flight, but I couldn't resist. I didn't know what I would crave. Turns out, unsurprisingly, that it's memories. Time to squash that down. Time to absorb someone else's life for a while. Time to escape. And so, it's Murakami that wins. For a few hours, I feel relief. I no longer exist. I am just a character in a book.
We're landing and it's over, but my head is swimming peacefully. I'm still lost to another world.
"There she is!" Charlie pulls me out and he swings an arm around me.
"Hey dad," I say a bit dazed. I'm here.
"Come here, sweetheart. Welcome home." He says as he wraps me in a proper hug.
I don't know about "Home," but it feels nice, anyway. Charlie feels real.
He kisses me on the head, and I haven't felt this kind of love in months: a casual, parental kiss. Maybe this could be home? There's that hope again. I have to force myself to remember that I need to treat for what it is: temporary. A quick pit stop before real adult life begins and I can go move somewhere new and become my own real person. Leave all the sad, dead mom Bella memories behind.
"So, do you need anything? Food, washroom…?" He asks as we begin to walk outside.
"No, I'm all good." I reply.
"And this is everything, all your stuff?" He says, pointing to my two bags.
I nod, shrugging my shoulders.
We head to the car.
I forgot what seeing this house again might feel like. Mom's here too. It's overwhelming at first.
We pull up the quiet, small street to the white house on the end. It's dark by the time we get here, but there are some lights on inside. I can still see her in the window. She's standing in the kitchen doorway. I know it's not real. Why is she here too?
Charlie says something to me, so I turn and nod and smile, not really hearing him. I walk up to the house in a trance, seeing old and new at the same time. I might be sick. I haven't been here in years, why is this house making me feel this way? When I pictured it in Phoenix, it always felt empty and devoid of emotion. I thought moving here would feel like a blank page.
I silently follow Charlie upstairs to my bedroom. He's still talking to me, I think, but I don't hear anything at all now. He keeps looking back for my reaction. I nod again, trying to smile but it comes out wrong. Suddenly exhausted as we walk up the stairs, I can't make myself care.
He mentions the last name "Black" and I see myself catching frogs, a black-haired younger boy chasing me. That's a distraction, at least. I can almost feel the rain on my young skin. Who was that again? And what was Charlie saying?
Once in my room, I don't bother turning on much light. I lunge for the bed, feigning looking around but seeing nothing. I need to either lie down or puke and right now I'm not sure which.
"Ok! Here it is, haven't really changed much… I'll let you settle in." I finally can hear him say through my nausea.
I murmur a "Yeah…" hoping he'll just leave me for a bit.
"Bella?" he asks tentatively.
I try to make my eyes focus on him.
"Get some rest kiddo. Come eat when you're hungry." And he leaves.
The door closes and I just stay where I am. Finally, I close my eyes and lay back on the covers. Willing my heart to slow down, my brain to stop remembering. I try to get my mom out, for what feels like the millionth time. This is so much worse than crying.
Later that night, I'm dreaming again. It's the same dream as always, but are the forests greener? Is there more fog? Then there's the waterfall. The sound of it; the rush; the power. It's getting louder and I'm flying. Soaring over treetops and gazing lovingly at the earth below me. I haven't felt so powerful, so in control ever before in my life. It's invigorating. I feel someone's arms near me, around me? It doesn't matter. I seek the waterfall, finally. To jump off the cliff beside it and join the rush of waves. I want gravity to finally pull me under. I need that humming in my ears to stop. I need the silence. I need the rush.