*You are my sunshine, my little sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey…
That song ricocheted throughout my head today. I wasn't tired, even though insomnia was kicking my ass at night. I was fully awake, replaying that song over and over in my head. The song keeps repeating. It's not happy lullaby you would hear a cheery person would sing; it sounds soothing and eerie.
I decided to not go to class today.
Today is cold; I'm outside on the roof of the girl's dorm today. The school roof was too much of a walk to get too. I keep thinking about my past now. I don't know how, but I thought I blocked everything out, and now everything is coming back at me all at once. My head hurts, and I'm hungry. But I'm not tired though.
Our stepfather told Alfred and I mother was sick, that's why she always carried around a dark blue purse with a tube and a device that beeps once in a while, but he said she would get better.
My mother always said her stomach was hurting, but said was only a stomachache.
When Alfred and I were children we would believe anything that our parents told us. Anything. Like when mother said that she wasn't going anywhere, we would smile and hug her frail body.
Was I foolish as a child not to notice my mother slowly dying? Or maybe because I was just a child and not having a care in the world, but only knowing mommy and daddy are happy. Seemingly happy.
My mother always said her stomach hurts. The doctor took out tiny black rocks one day. I didn't know what it was then, but now I'm older, I learned it was gallstones. She always said her stomach hurts, she lost weight really fast, I thought she was just exercising too much. One day she came back from the doctor, she told us that she was sick, but she will get better. I learned that there was something inside her, slowly growing.
Every week she would make a trip to the doctor, she seemed so tired, dad seemed tired too, but mother was my main concern though. One day mother said she has to stay somewhere else from now on. I didn't understand at first. Every weekend we would visit her. She would be in a square room, the walls were beige, a TV sat across from her bed on top of a dresser. A large window peered out facing south, except there were trees blocking the view. That room was always so warm.
I remember she when she had that purse, she said that she gets cold easily. Then she got even colder, so it was always warm in every room she was in.
She looked like a skeleton. I compared my body to her body. Her body looked more skeletal than mine. The picture I have was a on Christmas day. Her skin looked so thin; I think maybe if I breathed on her skin maybe it would tear. Her bones jutted out more than mine, like it was tearing the flesh from underneath. This picture, why do I keep this picture?
It's time for lunch. Maybe I'll see Ivan today.
Love Always,
Madeline
She signed her name with swirls. Just swirls.
The sun rose, piercing the horizon with a cold orange glow, Madeline left her bed making her up to the roof for the cold February air. The yesterday before class began the annoying Gilbert gave her a pack of cigarettes, assuming she smokes or wanted to be a 'bad' girl. She could put it to good use.
Inhaling deeply, she felt the familiar burning sensation in the back of her throat. To her it felt good. Opening her book, she sat facing toward the rising sun. Hoping to feel warmth, all she felt was the cold air slapping against her face and the burning in her throat.
Slowly the pack smoke reduced to one "I don't like the taste of Camel*"
The lunch bell rang.
Maybe she could find Ivan today, and talk.
The (*) crap:
"You are my Sunshine" by Chelsea Wolfe: Just listen to the song. Its the song Maddie is thinking of.
Camel: It's a ciggy brand.
