Obscuring Tears

Chapter Six:

Special

I feel I'm losing myself

When I used to be so sure

What have you done to me

To make me this insecure

Lucy lay in her bed that night, struggling to figure out where she stood in reference to what was going on with Ruthie. Not only that, but Lucy suddenly found herself questioning what she believed. Who was she, really? Never once in her adult life had she felt this insecure. It was like she was standing on a beach with the waves rushing up to her ankles, the sand beneath her caving each time the water went back out. She was sinking quickly. For the first time, she realized that there was nothing she could do. When it came down to it, she was ultimately helpless.

Kevin stirred beside her, exhaling peacefully.

The woman smiled. She may be nothing but a bystander, but she was not alone. Kevin was with her for life. He was there to encourage her, to give her a push when she was acting stubborn. She loved Kevin, would do anything for him. Kevin had a way of making her see things that no one else could. He was that bright light at the end of her tunnel, the fire in her heart.

She sighed, sinking deeper into her bed, her muscles finally relaxing. Feeling suddenly very fatigued, Lucy closed her eyes and let herself slowly drift off to sleep. She wasn't alone. They had each other, and as long as they were together, anything was conquerable. No matter how impossible it seemed, they would get through this, even Ruthie.

There are so many things

That I want to say to you

But I fear that you'd be angry

And take the wrong view

Everything was so silent, so dark, in the Kinkirk house - even the living room that was still occupied by Simon and his older brother Matt. Neither man had an answer as to why they were sitting with no light. The power certainly had not gone off, and all the bulbs in the house were screwed in tight. There was no excuse; the lack of light just seemed fitting.

Simon was staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. His vision was blurred to a degree, they way it gets when your eyes are locked in such a position where you don't seem to blink for years. It was a mere irritation compared to what was going through his mind.

"She accused me of running away," Simon said tonelessly, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had hung around too long.

Matt could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up as Simon spoke. There was no emotion in his voice, no trace of the boy Matt used to know. He looked at his brother's darkened figure, nothing more than a silhouette. He knew Simon was waiting for him to say something big brotherly, but nothing came.

Simon had grown up a lot during the course of the past few years; he had to. Sometimes the new Simon scared Matt, making him realize how little he really knew about his brother anymore. The time away in New York disconnected him and he felt completely lost and alone sometimes – even with Sarah sleeping soundly next to him in their bed at night. He thought that coming back to Glenoak, to the place where he had spent his childhood and knew like the back of his hand, would be a good idea. It was somewhere familiar with a place for him. But when he had arrived, he was greeted with the painful comprehension that everything was different – even the people had changed.

"You can't listen to her, Simon," Matt replied, taking on a doctoral air. "She doesn't know what she's talking about."

"Maybe she was right," Simon said, seeming as if he hadn't heard Matt's advice at all. "Maybe I did run away so I didn't have to deal with anything."

Matt sighed. "We all dealt with what we could in our own ways. Maybe not in the best possible ways, but we dealt with it. You didn't run away; you had a life to get back to," Matt explained. Then as an afterthought, he added softly, "School's important."

"But not more important than grieving for your parents," Simon retorted monosyllabically.

"Oh, Simon, snap out of it," Matt demanded, feeling his patience snap. "You cannot let what Ruthie said get to you. She's hurt and upset and lost. She doesn't know what she's saying."

Simon blinked and glanced in his brother's direction. "But she's right. Don't you get it? I haven't called. I haven't visited. I haven't been there for her when she needed me the most. I was only thinking of myself, and I did run away."

Matt exhaled. "Then we are both guilty of being bad brothers, so sue us. We can't be here every second of every day. Ruthie's been through a lot, yes, but we all have, and she needs to realize that." Matt stood and flicked on a nearby floor lamp. Simon flinched at the sudden flood of light and rubbed his eyes as they filled with water. When he removed his hands from his face, Matt was standing in front of him.

"Come on, I've had enough of this 'poor me' fest. I don't know about you, but I'm beat. It's been a long day," he said, offering a hand to Simon, who shook his head.

"I'm just going to take care of something before I turn in. You go ahead, I'll be there in a minute."

Matt shrugged. "Suit yourself," he mumbles before heading to the guest bedroom where he and Simon were sharing a bed.

Simon waited until he heard the door close softly then pushed himself off the couch. Turning lights on and off as he went so he wouldn't bump into, or step on, anything that would wake someone up, he reached his destination. He was facing a closed white door, straining his ears to hear inside. There was nothing.

Carefully, he turned the knob and poked his head into the room. The lights were off, but he could make out a sleeping figure in the bed.

Simon went to stand by his sister's bedside and watched her breath for a brief moment. As he went to pull the covers up to her chest, she stirred but didn't wake. Her arm moved rest by her head, and that's when Simon noticed several small cuts on the inside of her wrist. His brow furrowed and he ran his fingers along them. He suddenly felt even guiltier than he had that evening as he kissed her head. Before exiting the room to go catch some sleep for himself, he whispered in her ear, "I love you, Ruthie. I'm sorry."

If you could see me now

You would be displeased

But I don't even care

It's like I am diseased

Ruthie was going through one of the boxes that she had not yet unpacked when she discovered something she had thought was lost forever. She removed a large, brightly colored album with her name spelled across the top. For a moment she studied the cover, then flipped it open to the first page. This was the book that her mother had given to her when she was fretting over the lack of attention she received when the twins were just born. How old had she been, seven? She had been so thrilled when she learned her mother was giving it to her, but now it only brought back painful memories.

"Are you going to give me this book when I grow up?" she had asked.

"No, honey," Annie replied. "I'm giving it to you now. I want you to know how special you are to me."

The twins had started to cry then, and her mother left, leaving her to put herself to bed. It wasn't as if Ruthie didn't want her to leave, she had told her it was okay. After all, she was a big sister.

Ruthie would have given anything to have that moment back. She wanted to throw her arms around Annie and beg her not to leave, wanted to tell her she loved her and never wanted anything to happen to her.

She slammed the book closed and set off down the hall with it. Ruthie was walking at such a pace that she was almost running through the house. In the kitchen, she yanked open the drawer where Lucy and Kevin kept their miscellaneous items and rummaged around for stick matches, finding them instantly.

Lucy had come walking down the hall when she saw Ruthie kneeling in front of the fireplace. She couldn't see what she was doing, but a second later there was smoke. The woman ran over to her sister and fell to her knees.

"What do you think you're doing?!" she yelled, reaching into the hearth and grabbing the book, shaking it violently to put out the flame. Surprisingly, Ruthie didn't stop her. Holding the book in her hands, she considered the cover. "What is this?" she asked, glancing at her sister.

Ruthie's face was glistening with tears in the light from the few flames that still remained. "It doesn't matter," she faltered. "It's not important."

"Yes it is," Lucy said, discovering what her sister was trying to destroy. "This is your baby book. The one Mom gave you."

Ruthie looked away. "I don't want it," she whispered.

Lucy laughed as she remembered. "You loved this thing. You'd go around the house showing it to all of us. Ruthie, you were proud of this, why don't you want it anymore?"

Ruthie glared. "I just don't, okay?" she replied firmly. "Just get rid of it." The two got to their feet just as the flames petered out.

"No, I'm not going to get rid of it, Ruthie. Mom gave it to you. It's special."

Triggered by Lucy's words, her mother's voice resonated in her mind:

"I want you to know how special you are to me."

Ruthie could feel her level of anger elevate. "I can't keep it. That would be wrong."

Lucy's eyebrows came together as she tried to read into what Ruthie was thinking. "What does that mean?"

"You don't know what happened. You don't know what I said to her before I left for school that morning," Ruthie explained, her hands balling into fists. She could feel her fingernails digging into her palm. "She hated me."

"What did you say to her, Ruthie?" Lucy asked, her voice calm and, she hoped, friendly.

Ruthie laughed sourly. "Oh, no. You aren't going to go all 'therapist' on me. I think I liked you better when you were acting like Mom."

Lucy felt confused. "Ruthie, I-"

The telephone rang. Lucy glanced between her sister and the phone on the kitchen counter. Sighing, she went to answer the phone.

"Hello?" Lucy answered, irritability sounding in her voice.

"Luce, finally! I've been calling for days," Mary cried, happy that she was able to get through.

"Really?" Lucy asked dully.

"I'm actually looking for Matt. Is he there?" Mary asked.

"No. He and Simon took the twins to the park. They needed to get out of the house for a while."

"What's going on?" Mary noticed the tiredness in her sister's voice. She suddenly found herself concerned. "Is everything all right?"

Lucy looked over her shoulder and wasn't surprised to see that Ruthie had vacated the living room. "No, actually, it's not. Ruthie's having a hard time with Mom and Dad's deaths still and nothing's helping her. We're doing all we can, but nothing's getting through. She just tried to burn the baby book Mom gave to her."

"She loved that book," Mary commented.

Lucy knew her sister was smiling, could see it even though she was thousands of miles away. "I know. Then she said that Mom hated her, but she wouldn't tell me why."

"Oh," Mary said softly after a pause. "I know what's going on. I know what happened."