Finding my Peace

His hand on top of mine evokes feelings in me that I truly believe only he can make me feel. Our legs spread out on the couch as the sounds on the TV capture all our attention. That is until the buzzing sound of my phone begins. “Do you want me to pause it?” he asks. 

“Yeah, thanks hun.” I smile at him until I read the name of the caller. What the hell? Why is Jen calling me? The sister I haven’t spoken to in years. The one who chose to defend our dad over me. Her supposedly “best friend”. Unfortunately, my intense curiosity to find out overpowers my immediate impulse to ignore her. I suppose the war in my mind over what decision to make is shown on my face after seeing the look my boyfriend is shooting at me. 

“Are you ok? Who’s calling?”

“Uh, um,” I stutter, “It’s my sister.” I let out a sigh of aggravation at my current situation.

“Oh.” He pauses, unsure what to say next. I don’t blame him. His deep brown eyes express worry. I can’t help but feel guilty for causing him even the tiniest amount of stress or concern. It’s not his fault my family is broken. “Are you going to pick it up? You don’t have to.” 

“I know. But I’m going to. It could be important.” My mind is filled with a million ways to excuse the fact that I’m about to speak to someone who has scarred me almost as much as my father did. The reason for my severe trust issues. The reason I spent thousands of dollars on therapy. I click the answer button and hold the phone up to my ear. My heart is beating as I wait for her to say something. 

“Hey.” Her voice is just as I remember it. Rough, unsettling, and just a little bit hoarse. 

“Hey,” I respond coldly. I can feel my heart pulsating beneath my fingertips. 

“So, um,” she mutters. “I was just calling to let you know that Mom died.” My world halts. A knot in my throat forms. Tight and painful. I feel dizzy and my eyes blur with tears. The person in the world who I love most is gone. My protector. My supporter. My will to live. My sister’s apathetic voice snaps me back into reality and out of my world of darkness and sorrow. “Are you still there?” Wow. Did she really just ask me that? My hands tense in anger. My shaky finger slowly inches toward the end call button. Once it’s been clicked, I drop my phone on the couch and become an uncontrollable mixture of shaking and sobbing. My boyfriend rushes to me and holds me while I completely let myself go. After what felt like forever, my voice clears up and comes out as a scream of hurt and exasperation. 

“She's gone! She’s gone, James!” My voice breaks on his name and transforms back into an unruly weep. My phone buzzes again and I grab it with the intent of throwing it out the window. Especially when I see who the text is from. James wraps his hand around mine in an attempt to keep me from doing anything that can’t be undone. 

“Just see what she has to say.” He reasons. I wish I could be as calm as he is right now. A glimmer of gratitude for his support washes over me. If only that glimmer was enough to overcome the anger and sadness I feel crumbling inside. I read the message my sister sent me. 

FYI we are cleaning out the house tomorrow. 

I detect James reading the message over my shoulder. “You’re going to go, right?” He trembles. I nod, unable to speak. “Come on, Eve. It's getting late. Let’s go to bed.” Tears still stream down my cheeks as I follow him to our bedroom. I shut the door as if it were my sister behind it. I climb into bed and prepare for a night of pure insomnia.

I step out of the car and onto the crisp, green grass. It’s just like I remember it. It was always shorter in the front and longer in the back because of how extensive our front yard was. The lawnmowers always charged extra for the whole thing and my dad never agreed to pay them extra. When he picked a fight with my mom over that and screamed at her for wanting the yard to look clean. I guess even after the divorce, she still never paid the extra. I can already sense tears forming in the corners of my eyes. However, I force them to stay in the corners and refrain from crying. I walk up the three stairs that lead to the front door of the house. I take a long, deep breath before opening the door. What used to be the doorknob’s shiny silver color has now become a rusty brown. My hand begins trembling as I enter the home where some of my worst memories continue to haunt me. My eyes glance over to the kitchen, where my sister is looking around. Every bit of strength in me vanishes as I make the weak decision to go hide out in my childhood room. I simply cannot handle facing one of the worst human beings I know. 

I set foot in my old room and I’m surprised to find that everything is the exact same way I left it twelve years ago when I turned eighteen. The rosy pink walls paired with the teal blue accents. I saunter over to my bed and sit down. My stomach does a somersault when I find my old neon green bunny with its hot pink nose. The only item in my room that doesn’t match everything else. I remember when I got it. I was 7 years old and we had just moved into this house. My family and I were out shopping for decor and furniture when I came across this stuffed bunny. I had already picked the colors I wanted for my room but something about this bunny spoke to me. Even though it didn’t match my room, I had to have it. I carefully pick it up and stare into his eyes. Then I carefully examine every inch of him. The first place my eyes go to is the tear on his right leg. Painful flashbacks distress me.

The anger in his eyes. The cold, merciless expression on his face. “Do you think this is acceptable?!” His shouting fills everyone in the room with fear. Tears blur my vision. “An 82%! That’s a B-! I do not accept mediocre children! No child of mine will be mediocre! DO YOU HEAR ME?!” My throat is clogged as I nod. Tears uncontrollably rolling down my face. His attention turns to Jen, my sister. “What about you? Do you think this grade is ok?” I feel a tiny bit of hope that maybe my sister will save me. After all, she is my best friend. 

“No, Daddy. It’s not ok.” My world pauses as I absorb my sister’s betrayal. Why would she do that? I’d save her in an instant. He comes closer and slaps me. Then, he grabs the bunny out of my hand and bites off a part of his leg. The physical pain doesn’t even begin to compare to the emotional scars I am now left with. 

“That’ll teach you to be average.” He says sternly. He walks away and stomps to his room. When he’s out of sight, my mom rushes over to comfort me. 

I begin softly weeping. I find myself overwhelmed by the weight of these flashbacks. I clutch onto the bunny tighter and lie down. I turn him over and shiver at the sight of the three-inch rip on his back. Another memory floods my soul.

“You want to protect her? You’re gonna choose her over me? Her father? The one who pays your bills so you can stay home and play Barbie with her all day?” He yells at my mom so loudly I’m afraid the neighbors will hear. The last thing I want is for other people to know about our family.

“Can we not do this in front of the kids?” she whispers. Her voice is full of worry and concern. Not for herself, but for us, her daughters. He laughs at her request as if she just asked him something absurd. Fear overcomes me as he inches toward her and slaps her. I feel an enormous amount of guilt that my mom is paying the price for something I did. I broke the vase, not her. And here she is, taking the fall for me. I’m clutching my stuffed bunny so tight that I don’t even realize my fingernails have created a long rip down his back. More tears roll down my cheeks. He looks over at Jen and I. My hands tremble.

“Get out!” I hurry away as fast as I can.

I wince at the pain of these memories. Why did this never come back to him? Why did he never pay the price for hurting me? For hurting my mom? I jump at the startling sound of a knock on my door. “Come in,” I stutter. It’s Jen. 

“Hey,” Her voice is even colder in person. “So Dad was supposed to come, but um, he’s in the hospital right now.” What? My mind is filled with a thousand questions. 

“Why?” I question apathetically.

“He got into a car accident. In a coma right now.” For the first time in over 20 years, I can actually sense a drop of emotion in her tone. Emotion for the one person who doesn’t deserve it. 

“Ok,” I say, “I was just heading out anyway. I’m gonna take that box right there.” I point to the box on the floor labeled Eve’s memory box. 

“That’s all you have to say?” Her eyes twinkle with a wave of anger. I nod and exit my room. I hear her gentle footsteps behind me. I know she isn’t trying to stop me. She’s simply doing what she’s always done: looking out for herself. 

I enter my apartment to find James on the couch reading. “Hey,” he says. The amount of relief I feel to finally be talking to a normal person with actual feelings is immeasurable. “So, how was it?” A flicker of worry flashes in his eyes. I smile to reassure him that I’m okay.

“It was perfect,” I say contently, “Heartbreakingly perfect.”