Cyrus (10 page)
I walked into the next room and the next. I
knew I was playing a five year old girl game of pretend, but it
felt good here, like home. The first place that had felt like home
in many, many years. I looked at the stairs and caution took hold
of me. If I fell through them, no one would ever find me. But the
tightness in my chest paired with the overwhelming emotions of
being here, my only real home, made me not care one bit. If I fell
and laid bloody and dying, the pain would wash away and I would
sleep eventually. The lady in the hospital said they loved me, my
parents loved me, I would be with them, or asleep so it wouldn’t
matter.
I walked up the stairs admonishing any fear.
I was prepared to face the end, unafraid. When I reached the top
without issue, I looked at the three closed doors ahead of me and
walked on. I didn’t look down at the floor, because I didn’t care
if it gave way beneath me.
The first door was a large bedroom it felt
familiar, but again-- I knew that’s what I wanted. The next room
was a bathroom and it had a large bathtub. I closed my eyes
picturing myself laughing and writing on the shower walls that were
once bright white and cheerful, now darkened by years of abandon
and neglect. This was a memory, without a doubt.
The next room would be the hardest, the room
where I am sure I had slept for five years. The room that I had
envisioned in my head every day. Yellow, pale yellow with
butterflies and clouds painted on the ceiling. The room where I
still went to when counting didn’t help. I was five, and in warm
pajama’s covered up with a thick quilt made by my mother. She and
my father would tuck me in, kiss me, and read me a story each
night. They would then say prayers and give me one last kiss and
say one last ‘I love you,’ before I fell asleep, happy, warm, and
feeling loved.
I stood in front of that closed door
fighting the urge to open it. If I was wrong, if the room in my
thoughts or memories wasn’t behind the closed door than I knew I
would be unable to go there in my mind. I knew that if I was wrong,
the times counting didn’t help would be mean no sleep, no peace or
serenity. Fifteen years of figuring out how to calm and comfort
myself would have been just a wish, and not a memory and I wasn’t
sure there would be anything left to hold onto.
I returned to the bathroom and placed the
bag I had bought at the dollar store in the bathtub to use as
pillow. I pulled off the sweatshirt and hung it over the wooden
dowel towel bar in hopes it would dry enough for me to wear
tomorrow. I got in and sat as I opened the bag and pulled out the
bag of cashews, a treat that I knew would be enough to get me
through until I made my way back into town.
I ate half the bag. I emptied the contents
of the bag. I had bought one bag, two t shirts, three pair of
underwear and four pair of socks. I lined them up the best I could.
I had five…bags of snack food, six—
oh no!
I felt my face heat and I swear I could hear
my heart banging against my chest. I grabbed the picture I had
taken, that I had to return someday.
I took a deep breath, “One sun, two parents,
three siblings, four brothers, five minutes to cry, six people
total in his family, seven….my families in heaven, eight boats in
the background, nine birds, and ten people total. Now go to sleep
Tara Gardner, go to sleep.”
~
It was one point two three miles from the
house to the center of town. It took me thirty four minutes to walk
it because I was so tired. There was no gym that I could us to
shower, like a YMCA.
I went into a little diner and used the
bathroom to wash up as best I could. I bought a brush, a
toothbrush, toothpaste, baby wipes, and deodorant. I brushed my
hair, my teeth, washed up, and used deodorant.
I sat at a table in the corner and ordered a
glass of milk, two eggs, three sausage links, and two pieces of
toast: they would be cut so there would be four pieces total. I
took my time eating, afraid that I may throw up. I took one napkin
and wrapped two pieces of sausage and three pieces of toast in it
for later.
I went into the small library and googled
Theodore and Amy Gardner. It took a while, but I found them and
then I sat back and looked at the newspaper clippings, one about
the accident and one about the memorial service. When I saw the
picture of them, I started shaking. I hadn’t seen a picture of them
in fifteen years, no pictures had ever been given to me. No locket
with my parents photos, no pink album all about me, no family photo
albums. I had to get out of here, I was going to fall apart. No
amount of counting could take away the overwhelming pain I felt
right now. It hurt so bad, I missed them so much.
I walked to the park and sat down and forced
myself to eat the rest of the cashews. I took out the town’s map I
had gotten for free off of the diner’s counter. When I finished the
cashews I found a garbage and threw away the bag.
I told myself I needed to do this.
~
I walked through the paths of Saint John’s
Cemetery. It was old, but very well maintained. I stopped and
looked at all the head stones making my way slowly down the lines
and even slower to the back.
I drove my bike to Carly’s. Jase left his
Jeep there even though they had all moved to his place after the
wedding. I pulled out the key and opened the door. The place was
empty except the furniture. Nothing personal, which was good.
I rummaged through the drawers and found the
keys. I didn’t know if she would be coming back to Jersey but I
knew I couldn’t expect her to ride all the way on the back of my
bike--- I wasn’t even a hundred percent sure I would find her.
I was only half an hour outside if the city
when Jase called.
“You got the Jeep?”
“Yeah, didn’t wanna wake you.”
“Well next time go ahead, security called me
and said someone had entered. You find her?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
“Carly wants to know if you’re going
to…”
“Red Creek, apparently that’s where she was
raised. I just thought maybe…”
I heard him cover the phone and talk to
Carly.
“Hey Jase, I need to get my head into this,
anything else…”
“Carly thinks she should stay at the
apartment. If she comes back and you’re not going to form a
relation…”
“Tell her thanks, that’s a good idea. I’ll
call when I find her.”
~
I drove to the last known address of
Theodore and Amy Gardner and found a house in shambles. It was
obviously abandoned, but I needed to see if the little Birdie might
be here. I would never admit it but when I’m wrecked, I drive to
our old place. I never get out, but I’ve spent time sitting in
front of the house we lived in when things were good.
I walked up the front steps and tried the
door. It was locked, so I decided to go around to the back. I
noticed two sets of prints in the dirt, thankful it had rained. I
squatted down and took a closer look. Little feet, one set in and
one out same size, I was sure she was here.
I followed the ones leading to the back and
found an unlocked door. I walked in and slowly moved around. There
was nothing downstairs. I walked carefully up the stairs: pretty
sure they had good bones, but I carefully stepped on the sides when
I walked up just to be safe.
There was a door open and I walked into a
bathroom. I looked at the walls and saw finger marks on them. I
looked closer and saw the numbers one through ten written over and
over again.
Birdie, where the hell are you?
I walked down the hall and opened a door to
what was a decent sized room. Nothing remarkable and I went to the
next. This room was obviously a child’s room. It still had a bed, a
dresser, and a chest in it. It was cleaner than the others and as I
looked around I noticed the walls were painted with murals. I’m
sure that they were once beautiful but now were faded. I looked up
at the ceiling and it was the same, but the scene on it gnawed at
me enough that I couldn’t stay in that room for any longer without
over thinking this whole fucking thing.
As I started walking out, curiosity grabbed
hold and I opened the chest. Inside were keepsakes, you know shit
girls keep. A couple dolls, some blankets, all sealed in bags, like
someone was preserving them.
I walked out and shut the door behind me and
made my way down the stairs. I must have sat there for hours
because I noticed the sun going down. The sky was bright orange and
had to have been one of the prettiest sunsets I had taken the time
to notice in for a very long time.
I walked out into the now chilly air and it
started to sprinkle. I sat in the Jeep and looked over the folder
that contained everything documented about Tara Gardner since she
was five years old.
I grabbed the phone and dialed information
to find out information on the house, I needed to know who owned
it. First thing tomorrow morning I would be finding out. I drove
down the hill into town.
I stopped at a gas station and grabbed a cup
of coffee and some sort of shit food that sat next to the cash
register. It was supposed to be a burrito but it taste not much
better than MRE’s I used to eat in the field.
I sat in the Jeep trying to figure out where
to go next. It was too long of a drive to head home for the night,
and there was no way in hell I’d be doing that anyway, not when I
knew she was close.
I looked across the road and saw a funeral
home,
this day just keeps getting weirder and weirder
.
There was a buzzer next to the door so I
pushed it and waited. I swear to God above, Uncle Fester himself
answered the door. I explained to him that I was looking into
something for a friend and needed some help.
He lead me into an office and I sat as he
took his time walking around the big desk and sat. He typed on his
keyboard, one slow click at a time. I’m not real good at the whole
typing thing but I swear to you I was going to die of old age
before Fester finished typing in whatever the hell he was typing
and then I decided it may just be his plan. Fester was gonna kill
me to drum up some business.
He sat back and smiled, strumming his
fingers together as he waited for his computer to work. By the
looks of it, the computer was not much younger than Fester. He just
sat there and stared at me. I didn’t look away, not because I was
having a contest to see who would look away first without blinking
but because I was pretty damn sure he was a prop and this was some
fucked up weird-ass haunted house. So yeah, there are only a couple
things in my life that freak me out. I would never admit it to
anyone but horror movies freaked me the fuck out. Send me into a
war zone and I’m fearless, send me into a hostage situation and I
remain calm, throw me to the wolves and I’ll be the one walking
away. But don’t you ever expect me to watch those movies with
demonic little dolls, kids, or killer clowns—they’re just fucking
wrong. Fester here was starting to make me wonder if the rest of
the Addams family wasn’t hiding in the next room, waiting for him
to bore me to death.
I jumped a bit when the printer started up
behind me and I could have sworn Festers lips curled up a bit.
“Behind you is what I have on the
Gardner’s.”
“Thanks so much for your time,” as soon as
the printer stopped I was out of that chair and out the door. I
wasn’t looking back either.
~
I parked in front of Saint John’s Cemetery
and didn’t get out. It was getting darker and I knew I needed to
just go see if this was in fact the place the parents of Tara laid
to rest. I hated cemeteries, and no not because I was afraid of
them, the people in there are dead, what the hell is there to be
afraid of. I hadn’t stepped foot in one since Dad died and I really
wasn’t planning on it—until now.
I grabbed the poncho I had from the glove
box. You know… one of those yellow drug store throw always, yeah
Jase had them in the glove box. Or should I say Carly did, I bet
she was a girl scout back I in the day. Every vehicle had a first
aid kit and anything you might need in any damn situation. She was
a fucking treat.
It was raining pretty good out now and I was
burning daylight.
I stepped out and pulled the poncho over my
head, the rain, the fucking rain.
The ocean absconding.
The soft sound of the rain drummed against
the headstones as I walked around searching and avoiding at the
same damn time. The soft drumming gave verve to this place of
decease. I closed my eyes and thought about all the places I’d
missed, the places that allowed me to lean into life again. I
missed taking pictures and traveling. But with our new life at
Steel Enterprises, travel hasn’t been something I could do for
pleasure anymore.
How fucked up was it that I felt more alive
here than I had in a long time? I needed to find Birdie and take a
break before I completely lost my mind.
I walked up and down the rows and rows or
the section on Fester’s print out. I suddenly heard a sound above
the drumming, it was soft sobs. I followed it past the tall family
monuments to the back row and I saw her leaning over a stone from
behind. My heart stopped momentarily as I watched her hands rubbing
the stone as heaven’s tears, danced with hers, and rained down the
contours of her face.
I froze, and I had never froze before. I
needed to give her a moment: a fucking moment to grieve. I watched
as her fingers lovingly traced their names and she cried harder.
She covered her face and her tiny little shoulders shuddered
violently and she stood and reached into the air and screamed.
The sound of her cry crushed me and I
couldn’t take it anymore. Her hands were still in the air and her
eyes were closed, she opened her mouth and cried out again.
