Her Fault

Her.

Why does it always come back to her?

She’s meandering outside in some dark and filthy yard. There is so much junk and toys everywhere I can hardly make out the different piles. I try to approach her quietly, unsure of what I’ll do when I catch up. She looks up from the mess she’s in and makes eye contact with me. I stare back motionless, hoping she doesn’t really notice me. She takes off running.

Without even thinking I’m after her, clipping my toes on hidden furniture and tripping over loose toys. She’s made such a big mess of things. I think I’ve caught up when I see the small opening of a rusted doggy door and little feet scurrying through to the other side. My annoyance wells up inside as I squeeze my way in after her. Why is she making me run after her? Stupid little girl.

I enter into a cramped old house. I recognize it just barely but can’t place a finger as to why. Why are we here? I hear her feet pattering off in the distance and instantly I can tell where she’s at. I follow her through an increasingly narrow hallway to a kitchen.

There are snack wrappers strewn everywhere, mushy food and plates piling over the sink, and cups half filled lining the floor creating a maze. She expertly dodges every obstacle and makes it to the dining room. I look down at the huge mess in disgust and shove my way past the cups, breaking many in the process and stepping on some glass by the end. The pain is sharp yet fuzzy, like I know I’ve just been stabbed but somehow don’t feel like I have. Either way, I’m not walking normally anymore.

I limp to the stairs she’s ascending and feel a dread come over me. Don’t go in there. I need to stop her. I drag my bloodied foot behind me, limping up the stairs with increased adrenaline as she climbs higher. The stairs seem much larger and longer than they should be. They twist in an odd way and each step seems more uneven than the last. I reach the top but don’t realise the large chasm-like gap in between the stairs and the top floor and tumble headfirst down.

As I’m falling I see her shape growing smaller and smaller in the distance as she dives deeper into the pitch black hole we’re in. I hate her. I’m so frustrated that I allow my body to face the ground, or what I hope is ground, and close my eyes to wait for the impact.

Nothing. No noise, no hard crash that breaks my bones, just a musty shag carpet that smells like place I’ve fought to forget. I look around to see I’ve fallen by a bedroom with the door slightly ajar and a sickly yellow light emanating from the opening.

I’m not supposed to be here.

“Don’t go in there!”

“Why? What are you so scared I’ll find out?”

“You know what? Actually I don’t care anymore. Do it, I’m done pretending.”

I shouldn’t be listening in. I know it’s not my place but it’s not like whoever is yelling is trying to keep it a secret. There are two voices, filled to the brim with confusion and anger. If I can just peek through the door opening then maybe I can hear more clearly.

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“It would if you’d just listen! Why don’t you ever listen to me?”

“Why don’t you ever say things that make sense?”

“See this here is exactly why we’re in this situation.”

“Oh it’s my fault is it? That’s such a childish comment, of course you want to blame me! When we both know this is her fault!”

I see the woman point very directly to the door. The man looks stunned.

“Now, hold on a second.”

“No! Everything changed the minute she entered our lives! You’ve been different.”

“In what way?”

“You were actually trying before. Trying to be here and be present. Listening and working hard. Now you’re just selfish.”

“Selfish? After all I’ve done for this family? Fine, yeah it is her fault! She’s made me realise I don’t want to be here anymore!”

“You’re a coward. But her? I hate her!”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How could they say such things? Who were they even talking about? There was no one else here. The only other girl around was… her. I turn around and see her standing there looking at me.

I want to grab her and yell at her, let her know how much she’s ruined these people’s lives just by being here… but I can’t. That’s what I want to do, but inside I know it’s wrong. As I continue staring, I take a moment to really look at her and take in just how small she is, how innocent. I look into her large brown eyes brimming with tears.

“Why are you back here?” She whispers.

“I… I don’t know. I needed to see something.”

“Why did you chase me? Why did you chase me here?”

“I’m not sure. I just felt like I had to.”

“You always bring me here. Always… Why?”

I look away from her inquisitive gaze, full of shame. Full of guilt. Full of self hate. Why do I feel like this?

“If I come close… are you going to hurt me?”

I’m startled by the question. I notice her wispy dark hair messy from sleep, the light purple footie pajamas, and an old stuffed bunny. Why does she look so different right now? Like a normal child and not the monster that destroyed everything?

“No,” was the only thing I could manage to mutter in my twisted thoughts.

“Why won’t you let me leave?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why won’t you let me leave?”

“You can do whatever you want. You always have.”

“Why won’t you let me leave?”

Her words stab me with intense guilt as I stand up and try to walk away but the walls have closed in on both sides of me, trapping me in place. I look around and start to panic, pushing against the walls, hoping they’ll budge, but nothing is working and it’s slowly getting hard to breathe. I fall to my knees and just curl up, silently sobbing. I sob for so long I nearly black out. I can only let out a deep groan as I watch her come close to me and push the walls away effortlessly. She stuffs the bunny into my lap and then steps back and waits for me to calm down.

“What are you doing?” I manage to say through gasps of air.

“Do you really think it was my fault?”

“It had to be your fault. You’re the only one around.”

“But I wasn’t. You just didn’t know it yet.”

I know she’s right. I know what really happened. There was another woman. A woman who openly congratulated her triumph in winning my father. A woman who tried starting a new family from my broken one. She was the one my mother hated. They were talking about her. But I couldn’t shake the original feeling.

“No, I know what I heard. It was you! You.” I can’t bring myself to look at her. “Wasn’t it your fault? Weren’t you the reason our family was torn apart? It had to have been. You saw the yard! The kitchen! They looked terrible! That’s why he left, because you were too dirty. Too needy. Too…”

“Come with me.”

I grip the bunny tight, feeling a sense of comfort from its matted fur as I follow her. We walk to the kitchen and it’s just as before, except noticeably darker. The lights flicker on and suddenly can I see it for what it is. The overflowing piles of food and plates becomes a manageable size of small dishes in just one sink basin. The countless snack wrappers fade into just two, next to the trash can, no doubt slipping out by mistake. The maze of cups and broken glass turn into what they’ve always been, a plastic cup left in the middle of the kitchen island.

“I don’t understand, this looked terrible. I hurt my foot getting through here.”

“You were seeing what you needed to see to make what you heard true.”

“Why are you speaking to me like that? You’re what? Six? How would you even think of that?”

She doesn’t respond but instead leads me outside. The dawn is beginning and a warm light is slowly filling the sky. The giant piles of garbage, furniture, and loose toys become a normal yard. A bike left in the middle of the grass, a few dolls and blocks in a pile near the steps, and a tiny wooden bench. Why did it seem so much worse in the dark?

“It was never that bad,” she says, her hand grasping mine.

“Then why-“

“You saw what you needed to see to make what you heard true.”

She leads me to a small swing set on the grass and we sit next to each other, slowly swinging back and forth.

“It’s better in the light, when you can see things as they really are.”

I take in her words as we slowly swing back and forth. We sit there swinging for what seems like hours but feels like seconds.

I skid my feet in the dirt to make my swing stop. “I’m sorry.”

She skids to a stop and looks at me, craning her head to the side.

“I’m sorry I’ve been blaming you. I’m sorry I’ve been keeping you in the dark, in the mess. I’m sorry I didn’t let you leave.”

“You’re not letting yourself leave.”

I look down at myself, my dark wispy hair getting in my eyes, the light purple footie pajamas stretched over my grown frame. The matted stuffed bunny I’ve had for years. My eyes sting with hot water. “Why can’t I just leave?”

“You can. We both can. But are you ready for that? It means we will have to face other stuff.”

“No, I will have to face other stuff. You deserve to exist in a clean and happy memory. You deserve to have that. I deserve it. You were… I was… just a child. And not a bad one either.”

“Can you say it again?”

“I’m sorry for blaming you.. or me. I wasn’t a bad child. I wasn’t that dirty or needy. I didn’t ruin everything.”

“Will you accept that this time?”

This time… how long have I been trapped in this cycle of self blame? How long have I trapped my inner child in this torment? Don’t I owe it to her, to myself, to forgive and forget.

“I know you didn’t understand when you were me. But you do now.”

She’s right. I’m right. I do understand and I want to let this place go. This pent up guilt and anger from lies. But it’s not enough to leave, I have to place her somewhere safe.

“Come with me, little one.” I take her hand and walk her to the gate in front of the house, then down the street, and beyond the memory of my childhood home. We walk for miles through a hazy fog until I finally see what I’m looking for. A giant shadowy shape begins to break through the cloud, gaining more detail with every step. Glimmers of rainbow colored lights begin to sparkle through the mist and cheery music, once faint grows louder. It’s the first carnival I ever went to. My favorite memory. Her eyes are wide with amazement as she squeezes my hand.

“This was my favorite place. Sunland Carnival. The first Ferris wheel I ever went on. The first time I got to see the stars so close to me. The place I haven’t let myself think about for years.” Her little face twists with confusion at my words. She’s about to ask why when we hear it.

“Sierra!”

We both turn at the sound of our name. It’s my parents, smiling happily together, holding the stuffed bunny I was now carrying in my arms, brand new from the stall I had won it from. I had been avoiding this for so long, so afraid to think about the last time the three of us were happy together, thinking I didn’t deserve it. Now as I look down and see her face, my face, no longer afraid and stuck in the dark, I finally understand that it’s time to let go of the hurt. Time to stop hurting myself by forgetting the times that were good. I get down to her- my- level and say in the kindest most sincere voice I can muster,

“I’m so sorry I kept you trapped there. I want to leave you here instead, with them like this. Is that okay?”

Suddenly, we’re in a tight embrace and I feel a giant weight lift off my shoulders, the hot tears running down my cheeks falling to the ground in puddles. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was keeping in. She hugs me tighter and whispers into my ear,

“I forgive you and I love you.”