Chiaroscuro

Darkness. Besides the obvious definition, the absence of light, nobody can tell you what it is. I hate darkness. Like ink, its stain somehow can only be blotted out, not erased. It knows no limits and spares no person. Just when you think you’ve escaped, the lamp switches off. The covers no longer a suitable shield. There aren’t even shadows. There is just black. The all-consuming struggle. 

Light. Somehow, everyone knows what it is. But no one can just quite grasp it. They may fool you into thinking their lives possess it. Just like light, their words are an illusion- or so I thought.

What I am about to tell you is MY story. Not Barbara St.Claire’s washed up, edited version. If you don’t want to read something raw, something real, then you should just move on. Go ahead, go read your perfectly predictable yet unpredictable tale, no judgment. Stay comfortable. However, if you open your eyes and give me a chance, you might just thank me for it.

My name is Charlotte Keys. I grew up in a loving family. My father had a stable job as a cop. My mother was a waitress at the Bellemonte Diner, a few blocks away from the police station. My older brother Grey left the house for college a few years ago. Growing up we had few main traditions; green jello on St. Patrick’s Day, an early present on Christmas Eve, and church on Sundays.

My mother was so different from the other ladies at church. She didn’t wear dresses, hats, or gloves. She wore jeans and blouses. She didn’t praise the Lord, only to curse those made in his image later. She didn’t attend the women’s tea times, but instead, the volunteer projects, the yard work, the homeless shelter visits. She wasn’t afraid to do the dirty work. The work nobody wanted to do. My father loved her for this. He would tell me, “Your mother is something special, something special all right.” We all loved her for it. She was kind and gentle, but also stern when need be. She was like a wildflower, beautiful but not in the uniform way you expected. She sprouted up unplanned, different.

I remember going to my aunt Pauleen’s wedding as a child. I was confused why she was leaving home to go live with her husband. I assumed it was because she loved her husband the most. I was curious, so I asked my mother who she loved. I thought she would say my father or me, but instead, she replied, “God”. Plain and simple. I was even more confused. I asked another question, “Do you not love me or daddy?” “Of course I love you guys, but God comes first. If I don’t love Him first, I wouldn’t be loving you two, His creations.” At the time I didn’t quite understand, but I do now. Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?

“Char, if you need anything don’t hesitate to give us a call.” My mother looked worried. “Mom, I think I’ll be just fine. You two should go!” I reassured her. She was only going to a dinner party with my father for a few hours. Does she think I’m going to burn the house down while she’s gone or something? “Come on honey, the sushi won’t eat itself.” My father teased, trying to get her out the door. My father had been invited to the annual Weatherburn Police Department Gala this year. He was being recognized for the most community service acts for an officer. I’m proud of him and my mother.

My parents finally get out the door. I sit down at the kitchen table and start on my geometry homework. The scratching of the pencil on my notepad is almost routine to me. I get through about half the chapter, but I keep getting distracted. Maybe it’s time for a break. I go into the kitchen to make my favorite snack, apples and peanut butter. The apple cutter slides right down the apple, and I throw away the core. Whoever said sliced bread was one of the best inventions, they haven’t seen much. I finally get to eat my snack, and the doorbell rings. That’s odd, my parents have the key, and we’re not expecting any packages. I quietly creep to the door and look through the peephole. Officer Higgins? I open the door. He’s holding his hat by his side. “Charlotte-” He takes a breath. “Charlotte, your parents got in an accident.” My jaw drops. My bowl of apples falls out of my hand and shatters on the floor smearing peanut butter all over the wood. My knees buckle and I fall cutting myself on the shards, but I can’t feel anything. My vision blurs and I go into a state of numbness.

About fifteen minutes have passed, and Officer Higgins convinces me to get into his car. On the way to the station, all I can do is stare blankly. I can feel tears in my eyes, but they refuse to fall. Somehow, my brain just can’t register that they’re gone. They’re not, are they? I mean, really gone. That’s impossible. We come to an abrupt stop at the station. A few news reporters are standing outside of the building. The flash of cameras and hoards of bystanders are overwhelming. The second I open the door, I’m asked a million questions. “Do you know who killed them? Do you have anything to say?” Officer Higgins pushes them away and leads me into the station. 

Every officer stands there, holding their hats, giving me a sympathetic look. I still can’t register. Is this some type of horrible dream? He leads me to his office and has me take a seat. “Can I get you anything? A hot chocolate?” He asks. I don’t respond. “Alright. I’ll be right back sweetheart.” He says, shutting the door behind him. On his desk, there’s a picture of my father and him holding a huge bass. I grab the small frame and hold it. Maybe I can hold onto him for just a little longer.

True to his word, he comes back, but with a woman in a pantsuit. “Hello, Charlotte.” She says warmly. I don’t want to respond, I don’t even acknowledge her. She sits next to me anyway. “I’ve called your brother. He’s flying in from New York on the next flight.” She says. “He’ll be taking care of you, don’t worry.” She tells me again. “I don’t want Grey to take care of me, I want my parents,” I tell her. “I know.” She hugs me. I don’t hug her back, I know she’s being nice, but I can’t be right now. “I want to see them,” I tell her. “Honey, I- I don’t know if that’s the best idea.” She tells me. “I want to see them,” I repeat. She looks at officer Higgins and walks out. Her tiny heels clack on the tiles. “Please,” I beg him. He stares at me trying to read the situation. After a few moments pass he can see the desperation in my eyes. He pulls a folded picture out of his pocket. The tears finally roll out like a flood. The car was destroyed. Windows shattered. The metal was so warped, I could barely tell the front from the back. My tears fall on the paper, almost causing it to disintegrate in my hands. 

I can start to feel the effects. The sight of the crash was eye-opening. The question is no longer if it happened, it’s how. How is life going to keep moving? How can I live without them? How is the world going to continue working? They were the engine of this big machine. An irreplaceable piece, yet somehow it’s gone. I look at the small clock above my father’s plaques. Officer Higgins moved me into my father’s office upon my request. It’s 12:47 am. I know I should be sleeping, but I can’t bring myself to shut my eyes. All I can imagine is the crash. I keep replaying the image over and over again in my head. Smashed windows, warped metal, burning tires. I look around the room, trying to keep my mind off the subject. All of his medals for good citizenship, and acts of kindness are useless now. His coffee mugs and pictures of us- his family, lifeless. Now, there is no family. It’s just me and Grey. 

It’s now 1:30 am. I glance out the window and all of the reporters have already packed up. Vultures with empty stomachs. A small, red car pulls into the parking lot. Grey. He runs inside, and I hesitate, staring at him. He catches up to me and hugs me. I finally push my hesitation away and hug him back. “Grey,” I whisper shakily half-crying. “I know.” He says. I release him from the hug when officer Higgins and the CPS woman walk up to us. “Son, I’m so sorry.” Officer Higgins says, offering his condolences. Grey shakes his hand, expressing his gratitude with his eyes. “I think we should speak about a plan, and I have some paperwork for you to sign.” The small woman adds politely. “Of course,” Grey replies. They go into officer Higgins’s office, but I stay behind. I sit in the waiting area, waiting for him to come back.

It’s been about two hours, and he finally comes out. The drowsiness in his eyes is very prominent. He approaches me. “Char, let’s go home.” He says. We get in his car and start to drive to the house. I don’t want to go home. Grey looks over at me concerned. “Char, it- it’ll get better.” He says. I don’t respond. How, how is it going to get better? This should not have happened to them. We pull up to the house, and I start to hyperventilate. Seeing the beautiful flower garden our mother planted in the front yard, and our father’s fishing boat still in the driveway is just too much for me to handle. I can tell it affects Grey as well but he’s trying to be strong for me. We sit there looking at the house for about fifteen minutes before finally going inside. 

The apples and peanut butter are still scattered on the floor. Grey starts cleaning it up and I start to help him. “Let’s head to bed.” He says after we finish cleaning the mess. “Okay,” I say before walking out. Laying in my bed I don’t want to sleep, but my eyelids get heavy. 

I can’t tell if it’s real or not but my parents are standing there. I watch them get into the car. They turn on Grove street. They’re smiling and talking like they used to. Then, before I know it, their car is smashed, and the image from before plays in my head. The only difference is that it’s real. I can hear them screaming. 

I wake up in a cold sweat, breathing hard. Grey rushes in. His hair askew, half-awake. “Are you okay?!” He asks, almost screaming. I can’t say anything, I just start crying. He sits next to me and hugs me. “Charlotte, it was just a dream.” He tries to reassure me. “Okay,” I say. I pretend to be fine and go back to sleep. He walks out of the room. I don’t hear him go back to sleep though. After a few minutes of sitting in my bed staring at the ceiling, I go to see what he’s doing.

He’s sitting at the table with his head in his hands, praying. “Lord, why?” He asks. Something’s wrong with his voice, he’s crying. He keeps praying but I can’t hear him. All that I can make out is, “I know you have a plan.” He prays for me as well. I go to bed, trying to wake myself up every half-hour so I don’t fall into a deep sleep.

*Two Years Later*

The light gray shadows are hardly a contrast to the white furnished living room in Grey’s apartment. The sun’s setting for the 231st day this year. Just like the day before, and the day before that. Lately, ever since they died everything has been monotonous and empty. I stopped smiling, I stopped leaving the house, and I stopped going to church. My whole world was covered in a darkness that I just couldn’t shake off no matter what I did. I guess you could say I’m angry at God. How could he take loving parents and Christians who adored him out of this world? How could you love people and then take the ones they love away? Grey would always have an answer. “The Lord has a plan, he can see the bigger picture” or “Charlotte, He loves you and our parents so much” were common quotes in his vocabulary.

Grey bursts through the door scaring me half to death, with a bag of groceries. “Need some help?” I ask. “Sure.” He replies. I start putting away the groceries, and Grey flicks on the news before heading to the shower. I start emptying the leftovers in the fridge to make room for new groceries, but something stops me.  A reporter on the news. “Today is the second anniversary, of Officer Keys and his wife’s car accident, and the whole Police Department of Weatherburn have gathered today to show their respect. According to officer Higgins, one of officer Keys’ closest friends he is well missed by everyone. Let’s go ahead and show the image from the accident.” She pauses allowing the image to be brought on screen. I try to turn off the TV with the remote, but it doesn’t work. “As you can see it was absolutely brutal, no one could’ve sur-” I cut her off by frantically unplugging all the wires.

The image again goes through my mind. The picture that has been haunting me every night since. Grey comes out to see me huddled in a ball on the couch. I feel so childlike. I’m eighteen years old. Everyone has been pushing me to move on, but I can’t. “Charlotte. I think you should come to church with me tomorrow.” Grey says. “You need to heal. This isn’t healthy, and this isn’t what God wants for you.” Grey tries to convince me. I’m done holding it in. “What does God want me to do?! Forget that mom and dad are dead?!” I scream. Grey looks at me, obviously hurt. Good. He’s been ignoring their deaths all this time. There is no recovery. “Charlotte. Don’t be angry at God, he isn’t trying to hurt you. I don’t know why you won’t accept His love.” He says. “Grey, stop ignoring their deaths!” I can feel my words cut deeper. “Charlotte. I am not ignoring their deaths, I am healing. I know that their deaths are not the end for them. Charlotte, I’m choosing to love and accept His love first. He knows your sadness. He wants to restore you.” He says again. “If he loved me he wouldn’t have killed them!” I yell. Grey looks me in the eye, “Whether you want to believe it or not, He does.” He says before walking out the door.

I sit on the couch. The significance of the hurt in my words dawns on me. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I turn on the TV to get my mind on something else, this time the remote works. The news turns on again but it’s not about my parents. It’s another car accident. I try to get up, to turn it off but I can’t. All I can do is watch a small red car being towed away. No, this- this must be someone else’s car. It isn’t. They found his driver's license in his pocket. I run out the door, into the street. The ambulances start heading for the hospital, and I follow them. The nearest hospital is about a mile away, I should be able to run there. My lungs ache, and there’s a sharp pain in my side, but I have to get there. 

Finally, we get to the hospital. They rush him in, and I try to follow, but they don’t let me. “Ma’am you cannot go into the ER. I’m sorry.” A paramedic says in a rush. I make my way to the waiting room to wait, watching the time like a hawk. It’s been about two hours. “Charlotte Keys!” The desk lady calls. I rush to the desk almost running. “He’s in room 241.” She says. I run down the hallway until I find his room. I open the door quietly. A doctor is there. “Your brother is in a coma. He suffered a head injury during the accident. I’ll come back in a few hours.” She says before leaving. I stare at his face, almost lifeless. In the corner, his clothes lay in a plastic bag. I walk over to it, noticing a protruding sheet of paper. 

The paper read “Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. -1 Thessalonians 4:13-14”. It was then that I began to understand. To understand the love of God. God is for me not against me. He loves us all with such amazing love, even if we don’t deserve it. He is not condemning and hateful. He is loving and compassionate. He knows what we go through. He longs to wipe away our tears. I will never forget that day where I learned what my mother meant. On the same day, Grey and I both woke up.