Whatever You Do, Don’t Let Go

I looked at the button and clicked it. Just another harmless item, right? It was just a spice rack for  $15, less if I subscribed to the website, and I did. I entered my email and made up a password, a rush of adrenaline coursing through me as I pressed the button. A tear drifted down my left cheek and I brushed it away, both of my eyes burning at the sight of the computer screen. I blinked and a painful sting hit me, one that I knew too well. I needed to get off the computer, but I just needed to buy one more thing; some cute shoes for myself. I had thirteen pairs of shoes, but that was okay. I looked down at my floor that was cluttered with clothes, mostly fancy dresses that I knew I was never going to wear. I wasn’t going to return any of them, anyway, though. They were each somewhat cheap, around the price of $60, plus the additional subscription for each of them that took off around 15% of the price. I checked my email. I had been waiting for two packages for a few days now. One was a heart-shaped wreath for Valentine’s Day and a Christmas wreath. Neither holiday was close, but they were there to buy. I had to buy them. It was not a want, it was a need, something that I couldn’t stop myself from doing. Usually, I paid some extra money for one-day shipping, but I had been running low on money now. I only had around a few hundred dollars left, definitely not enough for rent. Or for feeding my twins; Vivian and Joy. I looked at my email once and closed the tab on my computer. I opened it again. Maybe, just maybe, the emails--or at least one of them--would have arrived saying that my package was close to my house, just a few miles away, maybe. I opened it; still nothing. I opened it three more times in a desperate hope for it.

Maybe the email was a few emails down. I had thousands of emails, all from different companies that were telling me about my packages or that were telling me about sales. All of the places that I had ordered something from and subscribed to. All of the emails I had gotten saying that my package was ordered, shipped, and arrived. I kept them as a token to remind myself of all the stuff I had bought. Of course, I didn’t have all the stuff I had ever bought. I had only started a few months ago when I had found online shopping. I thought of them as beauties, sitting there in a pile bunched in with other treasures I had bought.

I smiled as I thought about the time before these few months. Shopping used to be such a drag. I had to go to the mall a few towns away and then pray that they had what I needed. If they didn’t, I was screwed, and I would have to hope they would have it next Saturday when I came back. Sometimes they did and I would feel a weight off my shoulders. Now, everything was at the press of a button. It was simple; I would just open my laptop, write some words into a search bar, and then click some buttons until the “BUY” button popped up and I would click it. It was very easy. Now, it was a pleasure; I would do it all day if I could, buying things. Anything that was cute, though they usually just went into storage. Though, it was starting to get hard to just pack things away. The attic was full, the basement was nearly 

full, and Vivian and Joy had stopped accepting gifts I would get. Their rooms were filled, too, maybe that was why.“One new email.” I mumbled, shaking as I looked down at my inbox icon.

One new email that was from the bank. My heart dropped as I realized that it wasn’t anything about my package. I let out a long sigh and started to read the email. This couldn’t be. All the years I had worked trying to make myself a nice, calming life with my two kids. The work I had done with my lawyer adopting them and helping them adjust to their new home was just washed away.

“‘Bankrupt’.” The word quivered in my mouth. I went cold and I felt reality hit me like a punch in the crotch. I shivered, looking around at everything. What had happened to me?

Vivian shouted through my bedroom door, “Mom, something’s wrong with the ceiling.” Her voice had the same quiver I had when I read the email.

I looked at the door for a few moments before staring back at my screen. I needed to see the emails that would tell me everything was alright; the packages were on their way, coming right to me, only a few miles away.

I piped out, “Please”, dying to see the emails, or even email. It was a quench, something in me that needed to be fulfilled or else nothing else would be fulfilled. “Any second now.” A tear made its way down my cheek. I felt the salty blob as it reached my lips. I wiped it away, leaving my other eye open to make sure I would still be able to see my email. I glanced back at the email from my bank.

With the sound of something huge crashing and the trembling of the house, Joy cried out, “Mom! Help!” The urgency in her voice shook me, even harder than the trembling in the house. Maybe it was best to stop fixating on my package, I thought, even though I knew I was really trying to run away from the bank’s email. I couldn’t face it right now.

I opened my door fully where Joy and Vivian were standing, tears filling their eyes and some escaping Vivian’s grasp. They looked absolutely terrified as they hurriedly explained what had happened; part of the ceiling had caved in. Parts of the ceiling were falling out. The cotton candy-looking fluff, my set of candles, a set of painted chairs, and a bunch of other items flopped onto the floor, most of them breaking in the process. As I continued to try and figure out the easiest solution so I could go back to my laptop, I heard another noise. The fan near the hole fell out, bringing half the ceiling with it. I glared at all of my items, sitting there helplessly as a good portion of the ceiling and roof started to collapse in on us, and I knew there was only one option here; to get my stuff. There was no other option, really. I couldn’t let go.

I knew that I couldn’t carry everything so, with the rasp in my voice getting worse as I talked, I blurted out, “Vivian, Joy, get the boxes from the basement! We’re going to get everything outside before we get ourselves out.” I choked on the last few words, trying not to think about what would happen if we were trapped inside.

Vivian, disgust and horror darkening her face, gasped. “What the heck do you mean? We’re just going to die here?!” There was a blow in my bedroom as something else came down, along with my built-in shelf on the wall. “Mom, we have to get out, now!”

I didn’t reply as I jumped into the pile. I couldn’t let go of any of these precious beauties. I examined each item for a few moments before clasping it in my arms. There was no way I was going to let go! I saw a childhood stuffed giraffe, Jerald, laying in between some broken ceramic owls and a rather ugly painting frame. I still remembered getting him from my house when I was moving out from college. Mom had tried to throw it away, but I wouldn’t let her. It was beaten and had several holes from things I had done in my childhood. There were some new holes, too, probably from mice, as I hadn’t touched the stuff in the attic for ages (probably for a few years).

I heard a shriek come from the twins and peered from a hole in one of the piles that they were now trapped behind two piles. I couldn’t leave, though. They were my beautiful babies, two things that I had painstakingly pushed out of me, but I couldn’t leave Jerald or any of the other items. They all meant so much. I mean, who knew when we were going to need the ugly painting frame? Or one of the oven gloves in my stack we had? I coughed out their names, trying to see past the dust that was now crowding my face as another part of the ceiling and, now roof, came down. I couldn’t see them anymore at all.

I felt a tremor from the part of the roof I was under. The roof was thick; if it fell on me I would surely be gone. I picked up a teapot set that was strewn in pieces and, in the process, cutting myself, lifting it to my shirt and holding it close. As the roof fell in, definitely about to crumble, all I could think about was my email. Were my packages close? Would it even matter now? Yes, it still would, because every little item had meaning to me. Every useless little tidbit of a thing, even, like a shred of the handle to the main teapot, was important to me. Why couldn’t anyone else see that? Mom hadn’t when I took Jerald and my other stuff with me to college and eventually to this house. When we were married, Donald didn’t seem to care, either. He would throw out my newspapers I kept, even, which was the reason I only had a small stack of them left. Even his child support wasn’t supporting anything now, which I should have realized long before, as I had been taking most of the money from his wallet. I looked at the antique kettle that had been completely bought from his money until I had to close my eyes as some part had fallen into them.

Vivian’s and Joy’s screams were weakened, now. I hoped they were okay. Maybe we could come out of this okay. As something heavy landed on my leg I heavily doubted that. I could feel my heartbeat skid to a stop as I wheezed for air. Anything was better than nothing. I could barely talk, even. I wanted to help them through this moment, but that may not be helpful or possible with the amount of breath I had left. As I hugged Jerald to my chest as I tried to think happy thoughts, revisiting memories of stuff I used to have when I was little before Mom threw a lot of them away when I entered college.

With the last breath I had, I choked out to Jerald, “Whatever you do, don’t let go.” With that, I could feel myself slowly drift away into somewhere else. Somewhere with nothing, just me, Vivian, and Joy. Somewhere that felt warm even though none of my collections were with me. That was okay, though, because the kids were all I needed.