Edited Perspective

My spoon clanked against the sides of my cup as I stirred it around and around. I watched as the peppermint tea swirled in sync without really seeing anything at all. My mind told me what to do but my heart wasn't in it.

I set the spoon on the counter beside my cup and lifted the steaming mug to my lips, taking a long drink from it. The flavor that I usually loved was tasteless on my tongue.

I set the cup back down in defeat.

My ears were attuned once again to the deafening noise around me. It seemed the entire extended family had come out for the funeral. People I didn't even know but claimed to be family had all wanted to wish me well and offer their condolences. But it wasn't their words I wanted – I wanted to be left alone.

I turned to face the crowd, leaning my back against the counter. It felt as though the kitchen was going to explode with the magnitude of people crowding around. The same went for the living room. So many people. . .

My mind drifted to another time, another place, as I stood there in my grief. Once again I was sitting next to Mom's hospital bed, having my last conversation with her.

“How's school?” Her voice was weak and her eyes drooped as she turned to face me.

“It's good.” I took a deep breath, trying to choke back my tears.

“Getting good grades?”

I shrugged. Grades weren't my priority right now.

“Lottie.”

My fingers stilled from where they had been picking at a fraying thread on my jeans, but my eyes remained fixed on the spot.

“Honey, look at me.”

Slowly, I raised my eyes and met her gaze. The pain hit me all over again.

“Talk to me.”

Love showed so clearly through her gaze, causing the already forming lump in my throat to tighten all the more. I swallowed multiple times but couldn't seem to get it to go down. I knew I was going to cry and I hated myself for that. Mom needed me to be strong for her, not fall apart every time I came to visit.

She reached her hand out towards me and I placed mine in it, feeling her thin skin and bones that seemed to poke through. She was so frail. So weak.

But yet so strong.

“Let it out, Lottie.”

And this time I did. The tears poured freely down my face until I knew my eyes would be miserably swollen and puffy later. I cried until I couldn't see her face through the tears.

“Mom, why do you have to go?”

The sound of obnoxious laughter drew me from my thoughts and pulled me back to reality. I realized then that a single tear had fallen down my cheek and, by the way my throat was closing up, I had a feeling that more were coming. Abruptly, I turned to face the counter and picked up my tea again, taking a long drink before anyone noticed I was crying and came to offer more sympathy.

“Okay, here's another one,” a voice came from behind me.

I knew that voice all too well and the sound of it made me cringe. It was the voice of my next door neighbor – Rodger Hillingdale. The obnoxious, ever optimistic, boy that overtook the halls of school with his laughter. It grated on my nerves.

“What do you use to catch a nerdy fish?” He waited for a pause and I could almost feel the excitement reverberating from him. “A bookworm!” Grating laughter followed.

I looked up at the ceiling as I tried to calm the anger that suddenly overtook my whole body. What kind of person made jokes at a funeral? Apparently Rodger Hillingdale did, and my annoyance towards him went up another notch.

Time seemed to pass by in milliseconds and I was beginning to wonder if anyone would even be gone by nightfall. Maybe I could sneak upstairs without anyone noticing me. The thought sounded appealing, especially as another burst of laughter came from Rodger's group. I couldn't take it anymore.

Cup of tea in hand, I spun around to make my escape and ran straight into Rodger. My hand was bumped and tea sloshed equal parts on Rodger's button-up shirt and my black dress. When I looked down there was nothing left in my cup.

I stood there open mouthed, my arms spread apart as I felt the tea seep through my clothes. Rodger, too, was examining his shirt, but merely looked back up at me with a crooked grin on his face.

“I prefer to drink my tea, thank you.”

My jaw clenched. That was the last straw. “Why are you even here? Who invited you anyways? This is a funeral, if you haven't noticed. We don't need your kind here.” I stopped then to catch my breath and realized I had been yelling. Everyone in the kitchen had gone silent and Rodger stood before me with a stunned expression on his face. Never had I felt so rotten.

I slammed my cup down on the counter so hard I was surprised it didn't break and ran from the room. Footsteps sounded behind me, along with the sound of Aunt Susanna's voice. I made it to my bedroom and locked the door before she could reach me, immediately heading for my closet. I had barely opened the closet door before the tears began.

With my tea soaked dress, I sank to the floor of my closet and let the tears come. I pulled my knees to my chest and buried my face in the fabric of my dress. My blonde hair cascaded around me and enclosed me in a world of my own, in a safe haven.

The sun sank low in the sky and the sounds from below finally began to quiet. My eyelids grew heavy and sleep began to overtake me as I whispered the question I had never gotten an answer to.

“Mom, why do you have to go?”

~

A week passed and Aunt Susanna officially moved into the house. Into my life. As if nothing had ever happened. As if my life hadn't come to a halt.

She ordered me out of the house; said I needed fresh air, said it would be good for me. But I knew it wouldn't make a difference. It wouldn't take away the black hole that Mom's passing had created. It wouldn't fill the emptiness. Nothing would.

As I stepped out onto the back porch, a gush of air hit me full in the face and I breathed deeply. Somehow it didn't feel as refreshing as it once had. Nothing felt the same anymore. Not without Mom.

Something touched my leg and I looked down to see my cat, Muffin, rubbing against my leg. I bent down to pet her, but even the simple act of petting my cat didn't hold the same appeal it once had. I stood back up and started walking.

Birds chirped overhead and the trees swayed with the wind but I barely noticed. I barely noticed anything. My feet moved but my eyes were glazed over. My heart felt nonexistent.

“Hey, heads up!”

I jerked my gaze up from my feet to find none other than Rodger Hillingdale running straight towards me. What was he doing here?

My first inclination was to turn around and walk back to the house, but before I could even change direction the force of a dump truck plowed into me. With a half scream, my arms flailed and I fell backwards to the ground. No sooner had I touched the green earth beneath me than a squealing, squirming puppy was on top of me and licking my face with his sloppy, wet tongue.

“Pipsqueak, bad boy!"

The beast was pulled off me and I wiped my face with the back of my hand. Rodger stood over me with the golden retriever puppy squirming every which way in his arms and he struggled to keep his hold on him.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

My eyes flashed. “Okay? I just got plowed over by that beast and you ask if I'm okay?” I wiped my face off again, feeling like I had a gallon of dog slobber on my face and no amount of wiping would get it off. I got to my feet and crossed my arms over my chest. “Can't you contain that thing?”

“Well, first of all, Pipsqueak is not a 'beast' or a 'thing', and, second, have you ever tried containing a puppy?” His eyes sparkled with humor, frustrating me all over again. I rolled my eyes and made a disgusted noise.

“Whatever. I don't care.” I turned around and planned to walk away but he grabbed my arm suddenly and stopped me.

“Wait,” he said. “I wanted to apologize.”

“Oh?” I waited.

“Yeah, I'm sorry for the way I acted the day of your mom's funeral. It was insensitive. I'm sorry.”

I was actually surprised by the sincerity behind his words and was momentarily speechless. “Well, thank you. I appreciate that.”

Again I turned to go. This time he stepped around me to block my path.

“What is it this time?” I asked. He had done his due diligence and now I just wanted to go home.

Pipsqueak continued to squirm in his arms and it took both hands for Rodger to contain him. “I thought maybe we could be friends. I mean, we are next door neighbors and, well, you seem like you need a friend.”

My first reaction was to blow up at him again. I didn't need a friend; I needed my mom. But then, before I could say a word, I noticed the expression on his face. An expression of true care and consideration. It occurred to me that a friend might be nice.

I looked away from his persistent gaze and tried to frame the words in my mouth.

“You know what? Don't decide now.” He placed Pipsqueak on the ground and the dog immediately started jumping up at me. “How about you come over to my house and we can sit out back? We can watch Pipsqueak chase squirrels. It'll be fun!”

“I don't know-”

“C'mon.”

He took hold of my hand and pulled me away before I could even finish my sentence. Pipsqueak ran in circles around us, yipping the whole time. We didn't stop until we reached his backyard and he ran into the house, leaving me with the excited puppy who thought my shoelaces were the best chew toy.

“Hey! Stop that!” I pulled it out of his mouth, cringing at the slobber caked on it. “Here, fetch this stick.” I quickly grabbed the nearest twig I could find and threw it as hard as I could manage. A moment later, Rodger emerged with two cans of pop in his hands.

We sat down in the lawn chairs and opened the cans. It was peaceful as we sat there sipping the cool liquid and watching Pipsqueak do his best to sneak up on the squirrels. His best being not very good at all.

“So who names a dog Pipsqueak?” I asked.

Rodger shrugged. “Mom thought it was a cute name and I was simply glad that she agreed to letting me have a puppy so I went with it.”

“I don't think I've ever met your mom.”

“Probably not. She works a lot so she's not around very much.” For the first time it almost looked as if his smile dimmed.

“Where's your dad?”

“He left us five years ago.”

He said it so matter of factly, like he didn't feel an ounce of pain from it. But I knew that couldn't be true. Suddenly I saw Rodger in a different light.

“I'm sorry.”

He shrugged. “What about you? I know your mom. . .” his voice trailed off and for a second we didn't talk. “Where's your dad?”

“I never knew him. He left before I was born.”

“Wow. That's rough.”

I nodded and we went back to watching Pipsqueak. I pulled my legs up on the chair and rested my arms on them.

“How do you do it?” I asked suddenly.

Rodger looked over at me. “Do what?”

“Remain so happy all the time even though you rarely get to see your mom and your dad left you. It seems to me you would be, I don't know, more sad or something.”

He shrugged. “I learned long ago that there's no point in letting it eat you up inside. Life throws you down, but it's not about how many times you fall. It's how many times you get back up.”

I gaped at him and realized that my opinion of him had been all wrong. I turned back to my pop and took a long drink. Then a thought hit me. What if it wasn't just Rodger I had been looking at wrong, but life in general?

~

Clank. Clank - clank.

I moaned as I was pulled from the dream I had been in. A dream with Mom.

Clank. Clank. Clank.

There it was again. I sat up in bed and looked around. It sounded close.

Clank. “Lottie, are you awake?”

I jumped out of bed and ran to my window, yanking it open with a jerk. Rodger stood down below with a flashlight in hand and a jacket wrapped tight around him.

“What are you doing? You're going to wake the whole house!”

“I whispered!”

“If that's your version of a whisper then you need lessons.”

“I'll be sure to sign up for some. In the meantime, you want to do something fun?”

“No, I want to go to bed.”

“Come on, don't be a stick in the mud.”

“What do you want?”

“It's a surprise. Just come down.”

I blew out a breath. “You owe me for this.”

I closed the window and turned back to my room. As quickly and as quietly as I could, I traded my pajama pants for a pair of jeans and pulled on my worn Converse shoes. On the way out the door I grabbed my jacket and tiptoed down the stairs.

Outside, Rodger met me and grabbed my hand before I could say a word. We ran from my house to his with only the light from his flashlight to guide us.

Without even taking a moment to stop, he led me around the side and up a lattice work that went all the way to the roof.

“Rodger, is this safe?”

“Probably not. But that's part of the fun.”

I wasn't assured by his words but I was already half way up, so I kept climbing. He made it to the top of the house and peered over the side at me.

“Take my hand,” he whispered down to me.

I took my right hand off the lattice work long enough to grab hold of it. He pulled me up and a moment later I was sitting on the roof of his house.

“Why did you bring me up here?” I pulled my jacket tighter against me. “I should be sleeping right now.”

“Stop your grumbling.” He laid down with his back against the roof and stared up at the sky. “Come here,” he said almost reverently.

I moved alongside him and followed his lead. When I looked up at the night sky above us I was suddenly speechless. The sight was magnificent.

“This is gorgeous,” I breathed.

Stars twinkled in the sky, giving the appearance of a thousand lanterns flickering on and off. They lit up the sky so that Rodgers' flashlight was no longer needed. It was like magic.

“This is where I come when I need to think or clear my head.” I could feel his eyes on me. “I thought you might need to do that.”

My breath caught and unexpected tears sprung to my eyes at his thoughtfulness. I did need to clear my head, and this was the perfect way to do it. There had been so much on my mind since Mom's passing and so many scary unknowns. If I was being honest with myself, I was scared of what life was going to be like with her gone. Would Aunt Susanna want to keep me indefinitely, or would she give me up?

My thoughts had been a scary place of late, a place I had been trying to avoid. But here, under these brilliant stars, it suddenly didn't feel so overwhelming. It felt manageable.

But what about tomorrow? When the sun rose and my thoughts returned along with the fears and doubts. What then?

I looked over at Rodger as he gazed up at the sky and thought about his life. How he'd chosen to have a cheery outlook on life. Then I thought of how I'd been living life, or really, how I hadn't. I turned back to the stars with these new thoughts in mind. It was a choice. The question was, which one would I pick?