20
"Why are you obsessed with trying to protect her? What has she ever done for you?" my mom demands.
My mind shoots back to the days, weeks and months after my dad left and the evenings when Emmett would leave the house, unable to cope with the void left behind. My Mom would retreat to her office leaving instructions not to disturb her because she was busy.
I remember it all vividly. The sounds of her crying behind the closed door night after night.
The sight of her with her head on the desk, the bottle of pills that had finally quietened her pain, next to her.
The feel of her in my arms as I carried her to bed and tucked the covers around her.
The ache in my heart as she prepared breakfast the next morning with never a mention of the night before. She had no recollection of how she got to bed and I don't think she ever suspected she'd got there by anything less than her own efforts.
And in those evenings there was only one person who cared enough to be there for me. The only one who reached out, wrapped her arms around me and held me at night, slipping out of the house before my doped-up mother regained consciousness.
The only one who ever asked how I was doing. The one who made an effort to fill my time so I couldn't dwell on how a family that had seemed so perfect, could turn to shit so quickly. The one who deflected attempted contact from my father, but left room for reconciliation later on. The one who made that reconciliation happen.
Izzy Swan, was the one.
So, what has she ever done for me? There are times I've thought she may have saved my life. But if I'm truly honest with myself, I know she did. Without Izzy Swan my heart would have stopped beating long before she ever had a chance to break it.
~S~