Disclaimer- Yup, still not mine.
Authors Note- I have been pretty busy lately, what with exams in May, but I really do appreciate all the reviews. Keep up the suggestions too; the think tank is burning on low oil at the minute.
"Farther along we'll know all about it, farther along we'll understand why, cheer up my brother, live in the sunshine, we'll understand it all, by and by." -Emy Lou Harris, Farther Along
We meet up with aunt Nina and uncle Denny in a busy little town just south of Salt Lake City, and they present themselves a lot fresher than my ragged little family. The sight of them greets me like a lighthouse in a storm, a shining beacon of reason and beautiful, beautiful sanity. Uncle Denny works in Denver and aunt Nina moved there with him about ten years ago, just after they got hitched. Uncle Denny is a great guy, but I can't help despise him a little for taking my godmother half the country away from me- I mean, she still visits every couple of months, but it would be nice to have a female confidant as a permanent fixture.
We have dinner in an outdoor café, a nice, French-feeling place that doesn't quite fit the dishevelled and unwashed images of my mother and me. The meal is nice; we catch up on current events, crack jokes and generally avoid the madness that is our being here- which is more than fine by me. It almost feels like my life is once again labouring under its ramshackle definition of normal, but I know it could all turn on its head before I realise what's happening.
My chair scrapes across the asphalt and screeches under my worried weight. The adults all cease speaking at once and turn to look at me.
"I'm going for a walk. Aunt Nina, you wanna come?"
My parents exchange another one of their now patented worried glances. I narrow my eyes at them and dare them to object, but they say nothing, choosing to return to the interrupted conversation as aunt Nina and I stroll off.
We are out of eye and earshot of the café pretty soon, I think it best to put in more distance before speaking, but aunt Nina, never one to be upstaged, breaks the silence first.
"What's eating at you kiddo?"
I glance upwards, at the sunny Utah sky and let out an inaudible ghost of a sigh.
"It's mom and dad. I think.God.I think they might be unwell."
I watch her face intently for any sign that might indicate that she, too, has seen evidence of some sort of irrational behaviour. Her face creases in confusion momentarily, then falls back into it's normal posture, but, and I hope like hell I'm wrong about this, there is a gleam of understanding in her eyes.
"How- how do you mean unwell, exactly? They're ill?"
"No- no, they- dammit- they said some things to me, crazy things, aunt Nina, things that not crazy people do not say. They, they seem convinced I have a sister." Aunt Nina swivels round to face me and I can see the understanding for sure. Coupled with the ferocious waves of pity she gives off, it hits me with the force of a gut punch and I half-sit, half-collapse into a row of shrubbery that borders the sidewalk.
"Reagie, sweetie, I know this is-a lot to take. But I knew Allie- I was her godmom too. I was there, I saw everything, they're not unwell, they're not insane, they're just trying to let you see the truth."
"The TRUTH! Seriously, aunt Nina, you too?"
I scoff and regret it when I see the hurt on her face. She may be just as unstable as my parents. When did I let my guard down for long enough for all the responsible adults in my life to become basket cases?
"Uncle Denny, too?"
She nods and opens her mouth to explain but I rapidly move to cut her off.
"Why now, then? Huh? Why now? They could have told me this story long ago, long before any of these "lights" started showing up, long before I was raised in a dysfunctional and now clinically UNFIT home! If this is the truth, why has it taken so long to be told? If it's the truth, why is it so hard to believe?"
Nina sighs and hunkers down beside me in the shrubbery. She begins to reach an arm around my shoulder, but my back tenses and she hastily withdraws it.
"Your mom and dad, they debated it, they talked about what to do for damn near two years."
She smiles at the memory and then remembers the seriousness of the matter.
"They decided, eventually, that it was best for you not to know. Your mother believed that Allie would come back, but your dad was less sure- that's basically the gist of their separation, actually. But, nasty conflicting opinions or no, they both agreed that you should have the life Allie deserved to have, that you should have the opportunity to be a normal little girl."
Aunt Nina clambers up to her feet and holds out a steady hand to me.
"You're bound to have questions, but I'm not sure I'm the tattoo artist to answer them. You may not believe what we're telling you, and that's ok, you wouldn't be my goddaughter if you mindlessly deemed people, even your parents, to be right. It'll be hard for you, these next few days, but don't ever forget that we love you, sweetie, Den and me and your mom and dad- we love you. We just get caught up in other things sometimes."
I digest this, take her proffered hand, stand myself as straight as my hunched frame will allow and, either due to the days of travel and worry I've undergone, or the crushing weight of my own fallen beliefs upon my shoulders, promptly burst into a loud and messy bundle of sobs. Occasionally, over the wracking breaths and hitching of oxygen, I'm sure aunt Nina can hear me complain bitterly and desperately about wanting a normal family and needing someone to be an adult, or simply not twelve buns short of a dozen.
Aunt Nina, bless her crazy little soul, simply holds onto me amid the startled passing natives.
I must have been crying for a good while, because when we come back to the café, my parents and Den have run out of conversation and are simply drinking the array of alcohol on the crammed table dry. They meet the sight of my puffy eyes and desperate gaze with concern, which I brush aside and sit down; letting my eyes peruse the tarmac ground with immense concentration. Aunt Nina takes her seat too and immediately grabs and chugs an open Budweiser. I begin to think it may be a long night.
God knows how long we sit, long after nightfall anyway, each gazing off into the surrounding emptiness of air and sky. The night manager eventually turfs us out and I walk with four stumbling adults to a nearby motel, check the drunkards and myself in and then sit on the bed watching my parents sleep. They are sprawled on a double bed, my mom's head placed suspiciously on my dad's chest and I trouble myself for a while on what the consequences are when divorced people forget they are divorced. I laugh a little to myself, because it occurs to me that I have spent most of the week watching other people sleep and doing very little in the way of rapid eye movement myself.
I turn out the lights and realise I will not be able to sleep.
I whisper to myself that it's normal, considering the circumstances- strange town, strange bed, crazy parents and relatives. But the niggling, nagging voice buried deep in my skull makes more sense than my own hushed tones. I can't sleep because of the monstrous void where my faith in my family and myself once was; I have no idea who the adults that raised me are. I can't sleep, because I dread the thought that my dreams might be filled with skies that aren't empty, rather bursting with clouds and stars and flashing lights, swarming with a thousand doubts and uncertainties and countless more fears.
Authors Note- I have been pretty busy lately, what with exams in May, but I really do appreciate all the reviews. Keep up the suggestions too; the think tank is burning on low oil at the minute.
"Farther along we'll know all about it, farther along we'll understand why, cheer up my brother, live in the sunshine, we'll understand it all, by and by." -Emy Lou Harris, Farther Along
We meet up with aunt Nina and uncle Denny in a busy little town just south of Salt Lake City, and they present themselves a lot fresher than my ragged little family. The sight of them greets me like a lighthouse in a storm, a shining beacon of reason and beautiful, beautiful sanity. Uncle Denny works in Denver and aunt Nina moved there with him about ten years ago, just after they got hitched. Uncle Denny is a great guy, but I can't help despise him a little for taking my godmother half the country away from me- I mean, she still visits every couple of months, but it would be nice to have a female confidant as a permanent fixture.
We have dinner in an outdoor café, a nice, French-feeling place that doesn't quite fit the dishevelled and unwashed images of my mother and me. The meal is nice; we catch up on current events, crack jokes and generally avoid the madness that is our being here- which is more than fine by me. It almost feels like my life is once again labouring under its ramshackle definition of normal, but I know it could all turn on its head before I realise what's happening.
My chair scrapes across the asphalt and screeches under my worried weight. The adults all cease speaking at once and turn to look at me.
"I'm going for a walk. Aunt Nina, you wanna come?"
My parents exchange another one of their now patented worried glances. I narrow my eyes at them and dare them to object, but they say nothing, choosing to return to the interrupted conversation as aunt Nina and I stroll off.
We are out of eye and earshot of the café pretty soon, I think it best to put in more distance before speaking, but aunt Nina, never one to be upstaged, breaks the silence first.
"What's eating at you kiddo?"
I glance upwards, at the sunny Utah sky and let out an inaudible ghost of a sigh.
"It's mom and dad. I think.God.I think they might be unwell."
I watch her face intently for any sign that might indicate that she, too, has seen evidence of some sort of irrational behaviour. Her face creases in confusion momentarily, then falls back into it's normal posture, but, and I hope like hell I'm wrong about this, there is a gleam of understanding in her eyes.
"How- how do you mean unwell, exactly? They're ill?"
"No- no, they- dammit- they said some things to me, crazy things, aunt Nina, things that not crazy people do not say. They, they seem convinced I have a sister." Aunt Nina swivels round to face me and I can see the understanding for sure. Coupled with the ferocious waves of pity she gives off, it hits me with the force of a gut punch and I half-sit, half-collapse into a row of shrubbery that borders the sidewalk.
"Reagie, sweetie, I know this is-a lot to take. But I knew Allie- I was her godmom too. I was there, I saw everything, they're not unwell, they're not insane, they're just trying to let you see the truth."
"The TRUTH! Seriously, aunt Nina, you too?"
I scoff and regret it when I see the hurt on her face. She may be just as unstable as my parents. When did I let my guard down for long enough for all the responsible adults in my life to become basket cases?
"Uncle Denny, too?"
She nods and opens her mouth to explain but I rapidly move to cut her off.
"Why now, then? Huh? Why now? They could have told me this story long ago, long before any of these "lights" started showing up, long before I was raised in a dysfunctional and now clinically UNFIT home! If this is the truth, why has it taken so long to be told? If it's the truth, why is it so hard to believe?"
Nina sighs and hunkers down beside me in the shrubbery. She begins to reach an arm around my shoulder, but my back tenses and she hastily withdraws it.
"Your mom and dad, they debated it, they talked about what to do for damn near two years."
She smiles at the memory and then remembers the seriousness of the matter.
"They decided, eventually, that it was best for you not to know. Your mother believed that Allie would come back, but your dad was less sure- that's basically the gist of their separation, actually. But, nasty conflicting opinions or no, they both agreed that you should have the life Allie deserved to have, that you should have the opportunity to be a normal little girl."
Aunt Nina clambers up to her feet and holds out a steady hand to me.
"You're bound to have questions, but I'm not sure I'm the tattoo artist to answer them. You may not believe what we're telling you, and that's ok, you wouldn't be my goddaughter if you mindlessly deemed people, even your parents, to be right. It'll be hard for you, these next few days, but don't ever forget that we love you, sweetie, Den and me and your mom and dad- we love you. We just get caught up in other things sometimes."
I digest this, take her proffered hand, stand myself as straight as my hunched frame will allow and, either due to the days of travel and worry I've undergone, or the crushing weight of my own fallen beliefs upon my shoulders, promptly burst into a loud and messy bundle of sobs. Occasionally, over the wracking breaths and hitching of oxygen, I'm sure aunt Nina can hear me complain bitterly and desperately about wanting a normal family and needing someone to be an adult, or simply not twelve buns short of a dozen.
Aunt Nina, bless her crazy little soul, simply holds onto me amid the startled passing natives.
I must have been crying for a good while, because when we come back to the café, my parents and Den have run out of conversation and are simply drinking the array of alcohol on the crammed table dry. They meet the sight of my puffy eyes and desperate gaze with concern, which I brush aside and sit down; letting my eyes peruse the tarmac ground with immense concentration. Aunt Nina takes her seat too and immediately grabs and chugs an open Budweiser. I begin to think it may be a long night.
God knows how long we sit, long after nightfall anyway, each gazing off into the surrounding emptiness of air and sky. The night manager eventually turfs us out and I walk with four stumbling adults to a nearby motel, check the drunkards and myself in and then sit on the bed watching my parents sleep. They are sprawled on a double bed, my mom's head placed suspiciously on my dad's chest and I trouble myself for a while on what the consequences are when divorced people forget they are divorced. I laugh a little to myself, because it occurs to me that I have spent most of the week watching other people sleep and doing very little in the way of rapid eye movement myself.
I turn out the lights and realise I will not be able to sleep.
I whisper to myself that it's normal, considering the circumstances- strange town, strange bed, crazy parents and relatives. But the niggling, nagging voice buried deep in my skull makes more sense than my own hushed tones. I can't sleep because of the monstrous void where my faith in my family and myself once was; I have no idea who the adults that raised me are. I can't sleep, because I dread the thought that my dreams might be filled with skies that aren't empty, rather bursting with clouds and stars and flashing lights, swarming with a thousand doubts and uncertainties and countless more fears.