Past Imperfect (4 page)

“Mom, I know I already had a brownie, but could I have another one, pleeeease?” I asked, giving her my best sad puppy look.

“Of course you can, sweetheart. We’re on vacation. No rules on vacation. I’m going to have another one too,” she said.

We sat in silence staring out at the ocean while we finished eating our brownies. This was our last day of vacation. I think we were both a little sad. Even though we didn’t live more than twenty minutes from a beach, it was awesome to be able to walk out your backdoor and directly onto sand.

“Mabry, you know I love you more than anything else in this world, right?” I saw out the corner of my eye that she was still staring out at the waves.

“Sure. I love you too, Mom.”

Turning in my direction she made me look at her. “No matter what, I don’t ever want you to doubt how much I love you, understand?”

The look in her eyes was different. I didn’t know then, but that day would be the last time I saw my mom happy.

I woke up later that night to go to the bathroom. As I walked out of my room I could hear noises directly across the hall coming from my parents’ room. As I got closer I could hear my mom crying. It wasn’t normal crying. It sounded as if she couldn’t catch her breath. My dad was trying to calm her down.

“Bren, you need to take deep breaths and stop crying.”

“I’ve tried but I can’t. It’s too hard. I can’t do it anymore, Thomas,” my mom choked out.

“Do what, sweetheart?” Dad asked.

“All of it.”

“Bren, you need to take your medicine every day.”

“The medicine doesn’t do a thing for me. There’s no point in it. There’s no point to anything.”

“You have to take it regularly for it to help. Maybe you need to call and make an appointment with Dr. Jackson. You haven’t seen her in a while,” Dad said.

“I’m not going back to her. She’s as useless as the pills she gave me.” Mom’s tone was turning angry.

“You can’t get down like this. Mabry and I need you. You’ve been doing so well. I don’t understand what’s happened.”

“I’m tired of pretending for everybody. I’m so tired, Thomas. I just want it all to stop. Maybe things would be better if I left.”

I waited to hear what my dad’s response was, but all I heard were the muffled cries of my mom. I assumed he was holding her. I went to the bathroom and did what I needed to do. I didn’t know what was making my mom so sad that she would cry like that. I had never seen her that way. She was always so happy. I was scared. When I returned to my room, I crawled into the bed and pulled the covers over my head. I wanted to block out the sound of my mom’s crying and the memory of her sad eyes.

Over the past two years Mom got progressively worse. I never saw her smile again after we returned home from the beach. She didn’t make up songs or dance around. She didn’t bake. One day she didn’t get up to fix my breakfast or help me get ready for school. She still picked me up after school and soccer practice, but one day that stopped too. Everything about her just stopped. I didn’t understand what was going on. Dad said she was tired and needed to rest. She stayed in bed most of the time now. When my dad worked late I would fix dinner for myself, mostly sandwiches. I would always fix a plate for my mom, but she never ate it.

Dad was working late today, so after soccer practice my friend and teammate, Sylvie, invited me to her house for dinner. It was fun having dinner at the Addison’s house. Sylvie had two older brothers and her dad was really funny. I’d been eating by myself for so long I had forgotten what it felt like to talk about what happened at school and laugh around the table.

I climbed the steps to my front door. Before opening it, I turned and waved goodbye to Sylvie and her dad. I walked in and headed to my room. Since I hadn’t been home for dinner, I figured I needed to check on Mom and see if she was hungry. I knew the answer would be no, as usual, but maybe today would be the day she started to feel better and got back to being her old self. I sat my backpack down outside my bedroom door and headed down the hall to check on her.

I knocked softy on the door, but didn’t get an answer, which was usual. She was probably sleeping. That’s about all she did nowadays. I knocked a little harder, but still no answer. I was sure she was in there. She hadn’t left her room in a long time. I turned the knob and slowly inched the door open. Mom kept the room pretty dark. There was a little light spilling in from the bathroom, but that was all. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. Looking over at the bed I could see there was a lump the size of my mom under the comforter. Dad always said when she was sleeping not to bother her, but I wanted to make sure she wasn’t hungry.

“Mom,” I whispered. She didn’t respond.

As I walked closer to the bed, I felt a squishing underneath my feet as if the carpet was soaked. I looked down and saw there was a large dark stain that ran along the length of the bed. There was a weird smell in the room like rusted metal. I raised my hand and pulled back the comforter. The weight of it surprised me. It was heavy like when I’d help my mom hang it on the clothes line after washing it. I pulled on it, revealing my mom laying on her back. Her arms were raised, palms up, and placed on either side of her head that was turned to one side. The same dark stain that was on the carpet surrounded what I could see of her. The rusty metal smell was a lot stronger since I had pulled the comforter down. She was really still. Suddenly, all the lights in the room flashed bright and I felt two hands grab my shoulders and shove me into the hallway.

The door to my parents’ room slammed in my face and I heard my dad scream. “No!! Don’t leave me. Bren baby! I need you! Mabry needs you! Oh God, why!”

I stared at the door unable to move. I heard my dad’s muffled voice. He was talking between gasps for air, telling someone our address. Then there was silence. I glanced down and saw deep red footprints on the carpet made by my sneakers. My entire body shook and tears gushed from my eyes. I was having trouble breathing. I took a step back, then another, and then one more before turning and running full force out of the house. I didn’t know where I was running to. I didn’t have anywhere to go. I picked up my pace when I heard the sirens and saw the ambulance speeding toward my house. I had to keep running until I got the picture of my mom out of my head or I collapsed from exhaustion, whichever came first.

Dad and I were sitting at the kitchen table eating pizza. We ordered out a lot now that Mom was gone. It’s been two years since I found her. Dad tried to sell the house right after, but didn’t get any offers. Their room has been completely redone: new carpet, new bed, new paint, but we never go in there. He sleeps either on the sofa or in the guestroom. All he does is go to work, for groceries, and he takes me to the occasional doctor and dentist appointments. That’s about it. He moves and breathes. He exists, but he’s not living anymore. I knew he loved and missed my mom a lot, but so did I. He had forgotten that I needed him too. I lost both my parents in one day.

“Dad, we’re supposed to be at the field tomorrow at 8 am,” I said, picking up another piece of pizza. He turned his head in my direction. The same glassy dazed look that had taken up permanent residence in his eyes met me. I knew he had no idea what I was talking about even though I had asked him a week ago if he would come to my last game of the season. “My soccer game, Dad. It’s the last of the season. I asked you about it last week,” I said, annoyance evident in my voice.

“I’m sorry, Mabry. I completely forgot.”

“So, we have to be there at eight.”

“I won’t be able to make it. I have to work,” he said robotically.

“Tomorrow is Saturday and you promised last week you’d do whatever you needed to do at work, so you’d be able to make the game.”

“Well, I tried, but didn’t get everything done.”

“You didn’t try. You just said you completely forgot, so how could you have tried when you can’t even remember you still have a daughter who needs you at her last game?” I stood abruptly, shoving my chair, causing it to fall backward.

“Mabry, I’m sorry. It’s just been so hard. I’ll try to do better. I promise.” His voice was shaky. It sounded so weak and small.

“No you won’t! It’s been two years since you’ve acted like my dad. I miss her too. I think about her all the time. I still smell the blood when I pass by that door. I can’t get the image of her lying there out of my head. You’re the dad. You’re supposed to help me get through this, but you left me just like Mom did.”

We stared at each other for a few seconds. Tears streamed down both our faces. He made no attempt to reach out, to hug me, or to comfort me in any way. All he did was stare at me with his dead eyes. I ran to my room, slamming the door as hard as possible. As I paced, I felt the anger that had started building at the table double in strength. I tried to breathe deeply to calm down, but it wasn’t helping. I hated my parents for not loving me enough. I hated my mom because she didn’t stay around to take care of me, and I hated my dad for not being strong enough to take care of me.

I had to focus on something else. I had to stop thinking about how much my parents hurt me. I needed some way to make this pain go away. I stomped over to my dresser, picked up my hairbrush, and started hitting myself in the head. With every slap of the hard bristles on my scalp came a little relief. I concentrated on the stinging sensation instead of my parents. After five hits my head throbbed, but my anger had disappeared.

Stay focused on the throbbing, Mabry. Think only about the throbbing.

I crawled into bed still in my clothes. I had to fall asleep before the physical pain stopped because once
it
stopped, the real hurt would be back.

It’s been three days since Mabry ran out of my place. I decided to give her some room to breathe and recover. The look in her eyes that night just before she bolted was something I won’t forget. Mabry always has an underlying sadness in her eyes. They’re beautiful and mesmerizing, but sad. After a month of being together I asked questions, hoping she would open up. I wanted to know everything about her, what made her happy and especially what had made her sad. That look held more than just a woman who was afraid of commitment, I just hadn’t been able to figure out what.

Day one, post bolt, she managed to completely avoid me. I don’t know how she did it. I mean, my father’s firm is pretty big, but not huge. I thought at first she might have called in sick, but that wasn’t Mabry. She’s ambitious, and determined, plus being a first-year lawyer meant a sick day was not an option. Day two, the firm had an early morning breakfast meeting. This meant I did see her, but she wouldn’t make eye contact with me. She’s extremely stubborn. She was so dead set on not looking at me that she almost ran into the door on her way out of the meeting. Today is day three post bolt and I am done giving Ms. Darnell space.

It’s 6 pm on Friday and the office is deserted except for myself and Ms. Overachiever, who I just saw walk into the firm’s library. I follow her and stop at the door. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I lean one shoulder against the doorframe and watch her. We are so perfect for each other, we’re even dressed similar. She’s wearing a black skirt that hits right above her knees and glides over the curves of her hips and ass as if it’s painted on. I have on a pair of black suit pants. The sleeves of her gray silk shirt are pushed up to her elbows, same as my gray button-down shirt. My black and gray tie is loose and the first couple of buttons of my shirt are undone. Her shoes are the same black stilettos that I love piercing my flesh when her legs are wrapped around me. She walks to one of the tables and starts flipping through the case book. While searching for what she’s looking for, she raises her hand and pushes some hair behind her ear. I watch as the tips of her fingers graze the shell of her ear and then return to flipping pages. Her lower lip slowly disappears into her mouth as her teeth hold it in place. As if on cue, my dick starts to twitch. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath.