Hungry Grief

TW: Grief, struggling mental health, description of death.

The house was cold and dark. Sarah hadn’t paid the lights this month and the last time we had heat was 4 months ago in the winter. I knew I would have to scrape together the money to light the house. Sarah quit her job 3 months and 29 days ago and hasn’t left the house since. I knew I should have pity but I was 15 and paying for the lights by myself, I didn’t have time for pity. I was sitting on a small loveseat in the corner of the living room reading a book I wasn’t interested in when my stomach rumbled. I froze, when was the last time I ate? Thinking about it made my head hurt and my stomach growl louder. If I can’t remember when I last ate when did Sarah last eat? Did we even have any food left in the cabinets? I knew I should check to make sure but I also knew we didn’t. I sighed and slowly got up from the loveseat and tiptoed to the kitchen, I didn’t want to wake Sarah. Stepping into the kitchen was like stepping into another world. I remembered in a flash a time when the warm aura of bread was always floating from this kitchen accompanied by soft lighting from a now broken lamp. I had to push everything pleasant out of my mind though, nothing had been baked in this kitchen in a very long time. I didn’t bother looking in the cabinets, I would only disappoint myself. I checked the bus schedule I had taped to the wall and saw that the next bus was 25 minutes away. I crossed my arms and stared at the paper, maybe I could pick up some fast food? I heard a flap of the mail slot though and saw a few envelopes thump to the floor. I realized that my toes were beginning to lose feeling so I walked to the door and picked up the mail. I knew I should open the door and say hello to our mailman Bob, but couldn’t bear to be asked: “how I was doing”. I did however walk back to the living room to read the mail. There were 2 pieces of junk mail and a third envelope that made my heart jump. I read the address carefully and didn’t let myself believe what I was seeing. Dad had written to me… I ripped open the seal and began to read when I noticed it was only a sentence. “Angel, I asked your neighbor if you were doing alright and she said your lights were out, hope this helps. -Dad”

There was 100$ in the envelope. I felt relief and then sorrow as I realized I could turn on the lights next month. Dad had run off with another family a little before the accident. He should be here paying the bills not me. Granted he probably thought Sarah still had a job. I slid the money into my hands and walked to our room. Sarah and I have shared a room together since the accident. I couldn’t sleep in the same room that he and I used to. I opened the top drawer of the nightstand and set the 100$ next to the fifty dollars I had earned from odd jobs last week. I looked at my watch and realized the bus would be here soon. I decided 10$ would do it and grabbed them from my savings. I kissed Sarah on the cheek and wondered if she would use the bathroom while I’m gone. I hadn’t seen her get up in months but she still bathed I think and had to use the bathroom sometime. She didn’t stir when I kissed her so I whispered in her ear “M-Sarah, I’m going to get some food I'll be back.” I still trip up when talking to her. She told me not to call her Mom after the accident. Walking back through the house was always weird, it was like a place I knew but had never been. I managed to catch the bus as it was pulling up. I never liked buses but it would do. The end of the month is coming up and I should probably call the electric company later today about the lights. I took a seat in the back of the bus and looked out the window wondering if this was what people saw when they went to the mall with friends or something. And then we passed the road. It was as if I was getting the call again. I still remembered the doctor's voice when he said my brother had died. Never forgot them telling me he was walking to dads when a car came from nowhere and left him at the side of the road. But the stop was approaching and shedding tears wouldn’t do any good, I was hungry. I barely registered when I ordered the food or the bus ride home. When I did get home everything hit me at once and I slid onto the floor and wept. I cried harder than the day I got the news, I cried harder than at the funeral, I cried harder than when dad left. I was alone. I was still hungry though so with tears running down my face I took out the 2 packs of chicken nuggets I had ordered preparing a plate for me and Sarah. I decided that I should wait until Sarah woke up to eat in the bedroom with her. So I went back to the loveseat and began reading my book again. I quickly fell asleep though. I dreamed that the smell of bread was floating through the house again and that Chuck was in the Kitchen with mom laughing and rolling out another loaf. I dreamed of fresh-cut bread in a kitchen with hospital lighting and my brother's face flickering. I dreamed of the last time we were all together, crying as dad yelled at Sarah he was leaving. I woke up to fresh tears and my mother's voice. My mother was sitting next to me with plates of food. My mother took my hand as we ate in silence. I closed my eyes and imagined fresh bread, My mom squeezed my hand. 

The lights came back on the next day.