12 The Long Way Down

The buzzing of my phone wakes me. I roll over and pick it up… seven missed calls. I shoot up and quickly try to dial her back when Leo runs into my room.

"Raphael… it's Amber on the phone…" I grab his cell.

"Amber?"

"Raph," her voice is raspy "…I was shoveling the snow off my steps… when the police showed up…Raph…my family, their car…an accident… they're all gone…" I hear muffled cries over the line.

This is wrong. This is very wrong.

"I'm there Amber. I'm comin' right now. Ima be there with you real soon."

"Yes, ok…" she hangs up.

I turn to my brother. I'm desperate for him to give me an answer. He looks at me with remorse. I don't know what to say, so I scream. I drop the phone and fall to my knees and scream again. My blood beats hard in my head.

I feel Leo come to me and help me up, holding me by my shoulders. "Leo, her family, they're all dead. They were on their way here…I have to go to her."

"I'll go with you," he says.

Donnie, Mikey and Splinter are standing at my door. As we leave, our father places a hand on my shoulder, "Let her know that we are here mourning with her, Raphael." I nod and go out with Leo into the sewers.

We arrive at the ladder and I head up and remove the lid. I see Amber, lying on the tatami mat. She is still in her winter coat and boots and her back is turned toward me. I call down to him, "She's in here. Stay back for a while." I climb in and kneel beside her. "Amber…" I touch her arm.

"Raph…" She sighs. She takes my hand and pulls me down to lay behind her. "Please, just hold me. I feel like my whole body will fall a part if you don't." I hold onto her as tight as I can without smothering her. She lets out a wail and cries. Her body pulses with each gasp. Her sorrow echoes down into the sewers. My bandana is wet with my own tears. Leo appears in front of us and kneels, resting his had on ours. Outside the small basement window I see the snow is falling thick.

We stay there on the floor until Amber cries herself to sleep. The window is fully covered. I stand up and cradle her in her arms. Leo and I walk up to her apartment. There are decorations everywhere. The small pine tree in the corner is sparkling. There are two plates of cookies on the bar wrapped in plastic. There are red and green presents hiding behind her couch. I nod to Leo and take Amber into her bedroom. I remove her coat and toss it on a chair. I remove her boots and stack them on the floor. I tuck her in as best I can. I sit beside her. I can't help myself. I touch her hair. I caress her tear-stained face. I kiss her forehead. I go back to find Leo standing by the front door. He's already turned off the tree.

"I put the cookies in a plastic container and placed it in one of the lower cupboards. The presents are in one of the spare bedrooms upstairs. I don't know what to do with the tree." He says.

"That's fine. Thanks." The ipod is still playing jolly music. I pick it up and change to one of her favorite stations.

"I can go now if you want." He says.

"No, Leo. Please stay. We can just sit and…"

"Of course I'll stay."

We sit in the living room quietly. The wordless music hums softly. I can see the snow still falling through the gaps in the curtains. I rock lightly in the recliner. Leo is slumped on the couch typing on his phone, and then puts it away. He looks over at me. "I told Donnie that we were all fine and that we would be staying the night." I nod. He leans back and closes his eyes. I never cared what Leo thought, especially about me. But I feel so helpless now. And it's not often we are alone like this. I don't know how to start a regular conversation with him, so I just speak into the air.

"I wish there was more I could do. I wish I could take away the sting, Leo. Even if they had to die, I wish I could take the pain away from her."

He looks over at me. "Raph, the fact that you know her, and are willing to share the pain with her is more than enough. Just think. If you never met her, she would be hurting all by herself right now. She has no one else to call on but you. The foolishness I sometimes hate about you is the very reason you're able to be here to comfort her now." He looks toward her bedroom. "It's strange how things work out, how the world works to balance itself. I don't think we'll ever understand death, especially when it comes to our doorstep, but I do know she appreciates your presence more than ever." I feel a little calm come over me as he speaks. I hate to admit it but he sounds like Sensei. He looks back at me and smiles slightly. I smile back... It's early Christmas morning. Some time during the night we fall asleep. A long time ago someone was born on this day. Some baby is probably entering the world right now. I guess it makes sense that some people may die before the day is over. Fate does not observe holidays.

…

I awake to the smell of fresh coffee. My neck is a bit stiff from the way I slept in the recliner. I look over at Leo and he's still sleeping. I get up and walk into the kitchen to find Amber sitting on a stool with a hot cup beside her. Her hair is pulled into one messy braid down her neck and she's wearing that big long shirt again. She doesn't notice me standing near her; she is writing something very quickly in one of her journals.

"Amber." I say softy.

"Morning, Raph." She does not look up.

I sit down beside her. Her lips look dry and her eyes are red and puffy. I want to throw her book on the floor and wrap her in my arms. Instead, I place my hand over hers to stop her dashing pen. She looks up at me.

"I need to finish this. Then start packing. I can't leave today cause it's a holiday. Tomorrow I'm using my open ticket to fly home to Pittsburgh and take care of the funeral arrangements. I'm going to have a lot of help from old friends of the family, so you don't have to be concerned. My phone has been ringing nonstop all morning." I remove my hand and she continues to write.

"I'll watch the shop while you're away."

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

She makes a face like me want to help is hurting her. She closes her book and looks at me. She starts to speak but nothing comes out. She purses her lips and rests her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her.

"One moment, I'm so full. I feel like I can have everything and then I'm stabbed in the heart and it drains empty onto the floor. Why? Why does God do this to us? He takes the time to lift you up and show you everything that is possible. And then just rips it apart right in front of you? Does he really do it to make us stronger? Or just to watch us snap?" Another wave of tears roll in and I hold tight to her shuddering body. My jaw is stiff. I hope I'm helping her somehow.

She wipes her eyes and grips the front of my shell with one hand. "Raph, even though it's hard, you still have to do what's right, don't you?"

I don't answer but continue to hold her. I look over to Leo. He is up and looking over at us. He face is just as sad as I feel.

Soon Amber takes her journal and goes to her bedroom. She stays in her bed the rest of the day. She doesn't eat anything. I ask her to but she won't. Mikey, Donnie and Splinter arrive later. They join me and Leo in the living room. We chat softly about different things. We eat some leftovers. We stay there waiting for Amber to come out but she does not.

…

Early the next morning we stand in the back of the bookstore. Amber is bundled up holding a small carry-on and her laptop. She hugs us all. She stops to look at me. She kisses my cheek and says goodbye. We watch her get in the cab and drive off toward the airport. My family leaves but I stay back a while. I cry…hard.

…

She's been gone for two weeks now. And the funeral was last week. I would have done anything to be with her. She was there all alone when she had to bury her entire family, and I'm stuck here huddled at the foot of her bed, like a dog waiting for their owner to come home. I feel so fuckin' helpless! What's keeping her away for so long? I try calling her but she doesn't answer. The only communication I get from her has been one text a day:

Meeting my brother's and sister's in-laws. I'll be gone all day.

I'm fine, just busy with things. Text u you later.

I just got in. I'm so tired, Goodnight.

I'm in, Goodnight

I'm in, Goodnight.

Goodnight.

I feel like she's shutting me out on purpose and I don't know why. I roll off her bed and walk into the living room. I turn on her ipod and listen to her favorite music. I think it's boring, but it makes me feel like she's here with me. I fall back into the recliner and it rocks me slowly. It's four pm. Amber won't be texting me 'til about ten. She'll probably stop all together soon. Why is she doing this to me? I'm waiting for her. Doesn't she know I'll listen to everything she has to say? I just want to hear her voice. I want to know what she's feeling….

I immediately jump up and go to her bedroom. I know exactly what I'm looking for. I find it…on her bedside table a dark red journal, and written on the cover: My Raphael, A. Grant, 2010.

I pause before I open it. What am I hoping to find? Guilt hits me. I turn of the music and go sit in the kitchen. I read the first entry.

'7-7-10.

It would not be right to start this journey without mentioning my uncle Bubba. I've written about him before in other journals but for this, he is the genesis of what will be enclosed in future writings here.

My uncle died of liver cancer. The last letter uncle Bubba wrote to me was the strangest of all. Reading it made me think he was telling me his deepest secret before dying. He pleaded with me to never sell the bookshop and to never seal up the manhole cover in the basement. He told me to never be afraid and that he hopes I understand what that means someday. He also told me to only surround myself with people I know I can trust. I've followed my uncle's last wishes and left Pittsburgh to start a new… life? adventure?, here in New York. In my first few weeks of living here I was completely overwhelmed. New York is too big! And the people walk too fast and never look you in the eye. Everyone seems to be the most important person. I almost decided to just stay in the shop and let the people come to me. But I have, since then, made a few acquaintances, just some other local shop owners. We do hang out sometimes and the records store owner is trying to date me. I've been searching to find the people my uncle told me to look for; the ones I know I can trust. I didn't know I had to deny everything I thought was possible and question my sanity to finally find him. … Was he really there with me in my basement or did I hallucinate? Is my loneliness making me conjure up imaginary friends? No. The sewer lid was lifted, one of my beers is empty in my hands and I didn't drink it. He called me 'sweetie'. This makes me wonder about all the stories my uncle ever told me. And it also made me believe that every word he ever put on paper was the truth. We both couldn't be crazy. And I hope my little thief comes back one day.

PS, Happy Birthday to me.'

I read another.

'7-22-10

I was always interested in other people's stories. I like to picture their history in my mind and write them down later. I like to imagine what they thought and felt. I think our short timelines of life are full of great beauty and fascination. No matter how simple the story they tell me, I find a way to pull the magic out of it. But last night the tables were turned. He asked me where I came from and how I think and feel. No one has ever asked me this before. It's like he was offering to become my living, breathing diary. I suppose someday when I'm old and senile and my past won't matter anymore, I'll pick on some young soul who's unfortunate enough, to hear the story of my amazing, early-morning visitor who drank tea with me and wanted to talk about me….'

And the final entry.

'12-25-10

Dear Steven,

I am writing this letter to you to tell you that I finally forgive you. I don't know where you are now or who you've spent your time with while I was growing up without you, but I've found someone that makes my heart so full, there is no more room for the abandonment you use to haunt me with. I was never able to tell my mother about Raphael, but I feel like I can tell you everything. Maybe it's because you two are total opposites, you will never meet in life or in death. I say this, not because I'm angry with you, but because it's true. I love the truth. The truth is that Raphael is strong and sincere. He's a bright light, cursed to live in the darkness. When I first met him his eyes were sharp and cold. But now, he only looks at me with warmth and acceptance. I feel like I could fall a million times and he would always be there to catch me. I know if I'm ever crying he'll hold me. And I know if I had ever had to go away, he would wait for me. And it's not because I'm anything great or immaculate. He is the one! He is the man I know I can trust. And he is who I want. And I've never been more afraid in my life. I don't know when the news will get to you, Steven, that my entire family is gone, ripped away from me in one instant. My hand isn't writing fast enough to put all what I am feel down right now. It's cruel to think that the only way I could have what I want is for my family to never know about Raphael… now that my path clear, I am sick to my stomach. I can only think of what I need to do. Just knowing that he would wait for me, no matter how long, makes me feel like such a monster! But I can't stay in this fantasy world anymore.

Once upon a time, I could have called you Father. But you didn't want to be and you didn't deserve to be. And as much as Raphael has proven himself, by just being himself, I can never call him My True Love. I'm not that selfish that I forget where I came from. It was your choice to walk away and never return. I have walked away but it's time for me to come home. There is no other way for this tragic fairy tale to conclude…

The End

-Amber'

I finally wipe away the tears. My mind is so mixed up. What she feels about me and what she says she has to do…I don't understand. I'm too anxious to think about what she really means. I have to call her. I begin pulling up her number from my cell when I hear the shop's front door ring open. Amber! I open her apartment door and stand at the top of the steps. I then hear two voices; neither are Amber's. I'm silent as I hide behind the door, listening.

"…can tell this will be a substantially beneficial appraisal. I'm betting the condition of the storefront alone will grant the entire building historical security from the city," The old man says.

"I totally agree. Just look at all this charm: original built-in shelving, copper ceilings, and look at the craftsmanship of the flooring!" The bubbly woman says.

I hear them walk closer to the back of the shop. They find the hidden door behind the bookcase and open the door.

"This is simply amazing! A part of American history; a secret room used to make moonshine during prohibition! And the underground delivery trail is still there?" He asks.

'Yes, but the owner is stressing her needing to put down a new floor before we sell. It really is a potential danger, seeing that it leads to virtually all the sewers of New York." She says.

"Yes, it could lower the cost, but it won't take away from the story. Lets see the rest of the building." He says.

They start to head up the stairs toward her apartment and I hide under her bead. This can't be happening. They walk in and continue to invade her home.

"I've known about this shop for years, what's with it selling all of a sudden?" he says.

"Well, there was a family tragedy and the owner had to go back west. We would have been in here sooner but it took her a while to send me a copy of the keys so we could get in… look at this cute kitchen! And there are two more potential apartments upstairs, but the patio has been recently updated." She says.

'Well, then let's see the patio first and work our way down. From what I've seen so far, she can sell the business and the building for top dollar! She could walk away with at least ten, ten point three million maybe."

"Wonderful!" she says as they disappear upstairs.

I quickly crawl from under her bed, and make my way back to the sewers. I leave her journal on the kitchen counter. I forget to put it back. She has abandoned me.