The Locked Door

Rose is what my dad called me when I was little. My name is Willow, so it doesn’t really make sense, but he said that my mother named me willow. He always liked Rose, so nobody calls me Willow, except my aunt, Dad says that she can’t move on. My mom walked out of the picture when I was 6 months old, so I don’t remember her. My dad always said she was a “messed up lady that didn’t think about anybody about herself.” I didn’t blame my mom for leaving, even if all the terrible things dad said about her were true. 

One year in second grade, there was a bring your parent to school day. I told the teacher my dad couldn’t come because of work, and she told me to bring my mom. I looked at her, my smile fading, I then realized, it wasn’t normal not to have a mom. That Friday, as the moms and dads arrived at the classroom I sat alone. Some part of me wished my mom would walk through the door, run and give me a hug, but the other part of me was angry at her. While the other children stared at their parents, looking as if they were a deer in headlights, impressed with their moms and dads lives. I sat alone. Wondering if my mom thought about me,  what if she forgot? Thoughts ran free in my head as the voices around me drowned out. Suddenly, I was alone in the classroom, all I could see was darkness. It was like everybody simply… disappeared. That afternoon, I walked home. I cried the whole way, I remembered the darkness I felt, I never wanted to feel it again. That day I decided, if my mother had the ability to forget the child she carried for 9 months. I could forget about the mother I had for 6. 

I sat at the dining room table waiting for breakfast. It's wobbly because the part of the leg broke off around last Christmas  when Grandpa knocked his cane against the edge and dad's book of “fantastic recipes” fell and hit the leg in the wrong way. The table was old so Dad was expecting it to break sometime. 

“Pancakes are ready, Rose!” My dad called from the kitchen. 

“More like charcoal.” I replied as I walked past him gazing at the burnt pancakes Dad was trying to scrape off the pan and onto the plate. 

“Very funny, now get a plate.” Dad chuckled as he clumsily flipped a pancake onto the plate. The pancake landed charcoal side up, it was coated in butter, probably Dad's attempt at making sure it wasn’t burnt. 

I grabbed a “pancake” off the plate and sat back down at the table. It tilted to the right side as I put my elbows on the table. Dad gets annoyed when I put my elbows on the table, he always said, “Rose, your mom wouldn’t have liked it if you did that.” 

I know he still loves her. I know. I know because anytime Aunt Krissy mentions her, or we bring her up when I’m talking about holidays, he tears up. It’s not noticeable to anybody else, but I know what his face looks like when he’s unhappy. His eyebrows curl into one big hairy line, and his eyes get all tiny. To anybody else, it would look like he’s confused, but if you knew him like I know him, you would be able to tell he was disappointed. But besides the fact that Dad still loved Mom, he was a pretty honest guy. He always told me the truth, whether I wanted to hear it or not.

I looked at the clock, simultaneously with my dad. 

“Shoot, I gotta go!” I yelled as I bent over to grab the big yellow backpack at my feet.

“Honey! Before you g-” I slammed the door yelling “love you!” 

I ran down the stairs of the apartment building, zooming as if I was running for my life. Sure enough though, the bus was still there. Oh thank god I thought as I dashed towards it. I climbed the steps of the bus, panting, and sat down. I like being alone, especially on the bus, everybody’s kinda gross. 

The bus slowly comes to a stop, sputtering black smoke everywhere. And we wonder why climate change is getting worse. I mutter to myself as I grab my things and descend down the stairs. Looking at the big brick building with the words, Melile View Middle, I take a deep breath and take short strides towards it. 

“And as you can see, the molecule is extremely important because..” Miss Plerwen rambles. I think Miss Plerwen is an alright teacher, never had any strong  feelings towards her of any sort. I fidget with my hands and take a couple small breaths. I let my mind wander, thinking of the things I would do on the weekends with my friends, or with dad and grandma. Suddenly something pops into my mind, the class field trip we all took to disneyland. That day might have been the best or worst day of my life. We weren't allowed to go on any rides, but I had made a friend that day. My first friend. I remember the freedom I felt talking and laughing with her, and I smile. My smile immediately falls when a loud noise rings out across the school. I knew exactly what it was. My mind starts racing as I look around simultaneously at the kids in my classroom, some were confused but some, like me, knew exactly what was going on. Then I look at Miss Plerwen, she looks alarmed though I can tell she’s trying to keep calm. All of the kids, including I, watch in terror, as she locks the door. 

“Everybody, get to the corner like we practiced.” She calls out quietly as she hits the light switch and everything becomes dark. Kids around me are crying and some are just trying to listen to what was happening. All I could think about was Dad. Everything I did wrong, how I didn’t let him finish this morning. I think about Mom, and I forgive her. I looked up to watch the lock on the door. I had always noticed the lock, though I never thought we’d actually have to use it. It always looked so industrial, but today it looked like a bobby pin. Then it hit me, that lock is practically the only thing saving us. I look around again as another loud noise rings out, the classroom becomes silent. I curl up into a ball and try to scoot my way behind everyone, praying that whoever was out there wouldn’t come in. But as I get to the back, we hear a knock on the door. Me and my classmates all look in horror at the door, we swivel our heads from the knob to the lock, knob, lock, knob, lock. We hear another knock.

“SWAT.” A man booms from the other side of the door. I don't believe him. 

He says it again, “SWAT, OPEN THE DOOR.” 

Miss Plerwen looks down at her phone and vigorously types something. She looks down and her eyes widen. She gets up slowly with her hands up and turns the lock on the door. The door immediately opens and big men with black suits and clear shields come in. I start to cry, God knows why, I just let out what was being bottled up inside myself. The men look at us huddled in the corner, most of us crying, and tell us that we need to go with them with our hands up. We do as he says, and when we reach the front of the school I see kids from my class run to their Moms and Dads. I see parents crying, waiting desperately for their children to walk out of the big glass doors. I look around for Dad amongst the crowd of parents, pushing my way through them to the sidewalk. I see him. As if he were a beacon of light, I see him. I sprint towards him and run straight into his arms. I feel overwhelmed with emotion, the feeling of being free, scared, angry, but everything goes away when I realize that everything is alright. I look up at Dad's face, and he’s crying, big, fat tears. At that moment I realize, maybe it is okay just having a dad.