Wolf Spell 1 (2 page)

With Death Starts a New Beginning

– Arabeth –

Present day, October 6, 2012

I ran my hand along the familiar wooden railing. Each step downstairs brought a painful stab to my heart. The flowing black dress I wore danced around my ankles with each movement. I pulled my sweater around my chest tighter, wrapping it around me to create a cocoon of comfort.

I could feel my cheeks grow hot, and I brushed off the fresh tears that continued to flow since her death, trying not to ruin my freshly applied makeup. On the last step, I hesitated. It was as if contact with the cold tile would cause it to crack and swallow me whole. I gulped back another sob and touched the toe of my shoe down. The tap from the sole hitting against the floor echoed in the deserted room.

I kept my arms folded around my chest, and stood there with my eyes closed. I took in a long breath and anticipated the familiar scent of lilacs that my mom smelled like. I exhaled and opened my eyes—a stale and bitter stench came from a row of empty beer bottles lined up on the marble countertop. I couldn’t remember the last time my dad drank. It was hard to know he did this so soon after her death. I didn’t want to think about him finding a release from grief at the bottom of a bottle.

I clenched my fists as I stormed across the kitchen floor to the row of alcohol containers. It took all the restraint I had not to yell. I had come home for her funeral, but maybe it was a mistake to stay in this house. All of the bittersweet memories filled me. Every fight they ever had, every curse, and every slammed door.

Grabbing each bottle, I threw them on the floor, and watched as shimmers of glass exploded around me. Tiny brown slivers danced across the tile, and my world crashed down along with them. I was so angry that my hands shook. It felt good to throw something. A petty tantrum I know, but in some weird way I needed to do it.

“What are you doing?” I jumped as my dad’s unexpected voice filled the room.

I turned as he entered the kitchen. The black tailored jacket he wore complimented his six-foot frame, and the white collared shirt underneath showed off his sun-tanned complexion. He had combed back his thick chestnut hair, and his face was clean-shaven. Something he rarely did. I was in awe as I looked up at him—he towered over my five foot six inches. I’d never saw him wear a suit before, and it caused my gut to twist as I became more conscious to the reality of the day.

“Today… you couldn’t have respect for her today? Drinking? Come on Dad. I know you guys had problems, but there had to be something you both agreed on. You must have loved her at least once. You married her.”

He fidgeted with his hands, tightening and un-tightening them into fists. “We agreed on you.”

I shifted my weight to one leg and lowered my gaze. I wasn’t sure what to say anymore.

His shoulders slumped. “Just clean it up please.”

My heart shattered into a million pieces. Raw pain filled my soul. I could feel the intense burn all the way down in my fingertips. I nodded and blinked back tears as the glass crunched under my high-heels.

I hated this… all of it. Why did she have to leave so soon? Maybe they could’ve found happiness one day. I snatched the broom and dustpan. My mind and thoughts wandered away as I cleaned up the glass. I was numb, void of any emotion that had overwhelmed me in the previous moments. It was as if I could see the mess, but couldn’t comprehend why it was there or what I’d done.

I dropped down to my knees and choked back sobs. Shards and slivers from the bottles still covered the floor, except for the few pieces that I managed to sweep into the dustpan. They lay scattered on the tile and glistened through my blurred, tear streaked vision.
What was I doing? What was the point in cleaning it up?

“Arabeth.” I could hear my dad’s low voice. It was almost a whisper, but my own mental anguish consumed me, and it took several moments before I could react to him.

I looked up, but turned my gaze away from him. Knowing I should answer him, but feeling too empty to say anything. Avoiding his eyes was hard because I knew what I’d find. My own distress mimicked in his aqua pupils.

When I moved out into my own apartment, I’d thought almost every day about my mom and dad. They’d never gotten along. I worried about them, but now she was dead. I had my dad and my best friend Ailaina, but that was it. I never made many friends in school. The other kids labeled me as the weird one. I tossed the dustpan to the floor with a sigh.

“I want to tell you something, but... What if I said… Damn it. I still can’t say it.” He clenched his fists and hit the counter.

“Just say it! Whatever it is, I’m a big girl, you can tell me.”

His jaw clenched, and he rubbed his hands over his face. “Just remember, I did it for you.”

I threw my arms up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your mom and I... Every time I argued with her there was a reason. A reason I can’t explain yet, and it’s killing me. It has killed me for years.” He ran his hands through his hair. A small tendril fell from its perfect place. “I don’t know why I can’t say anything yet. It doesn’t make sense,” he mumbled under his breath. It was strange that I could hear him so well.

“So I’m supposed to believe growing up, watching you and her yell at each other was all for me?”

“Arabeth, you don’t understand any of it, but I refuse to go any longer with you thinking I didn’t care because I do care—about you.” He left the kitchen, and I sat there on the floor, distracted by his words. I wasn’t sure what he meant by any of it. I couldn’t handle any more stress right now, so why would he try to put more on me?

The house was too quiet. I became lost in my thoughts again and stared at the empty entryway. A sharp pain in my left hand made me cry out. Without thinking, I pressed my hand down in the pile of shards.
Ugh!
Blood dripped down on the broken chunks of glass.

Without knowing the extent of my wounds, I grasped the counter as leverage to get up with my cut hand. “Ouch!” More blood trickled from my wounds. There must have been a thousand splinters sticking out from my skin. Shifting my weight, I used my other arm on the counter to help me up.

I leaned against the counter next to the kitchen sink and ran my hands under the cold water. I bit my lip as the liquid stung in every cut. Grabbing the kitchen towel that hung on the fridge, I touched it to my hand carefully, and tried to inspect my palm better. It did no good. All I accomplished was to stain the white towel with the crimson color. Little slits where the glass split my skin shimmered all over as blood flowed from each spot. I let out an aggravated moan and then threw the towel in the sink.

I needed more than just a towel, but everything was upstairs in the medicine cabinet. I chewed on my lip as I contemplated whether I should leave the kitchen sink or not. The stinging spread through my palm and up my arm. I decided to run up to the bathroom, not caring if I dripped blood on the grey carpet. The door was ajar, so I kicked it with my foot, and it hit against the wall. The vibration from the doorstopper echoed through the upstairs.

Inhaling, I could smell the scent of flowers from my mom’s favorite TLC perfume. The small, half-full, purple bottle still rested on the counter. With my back against the wall, I sank to the floor. I no longer remembered my cuts. I tried to breathe, but all I got were racking sobs that shook from my chest. It was so hard to know I wouldn’t see her again. I stood up and wiped my tears with the back of my good hand.

Turning the water on, I sucked in a sharp intake of breath and prepared myself for pain. I centered my hands under the running water. Nothing hurt.

“What the heck?” My mouth fell open as I watched the water drain clear. The blood was gone. I flipped my hand over and examined it. No scrapes, cuts, or even sparkles of glass.

Confused, I stared at it. Nothing was wrong with my hand. I remember seeing the blood and glass. How was this possible? I braced myself against the counter with my hip, letting it help support my body. I wasn’t sure how to explain what happened.

Too much stress caused delusions. Right? Maybe I should have taken Ailaina up on her offer to go away with her and her parents to Australia for the week. The funeral and my mom’s death was too much for my mind to take. I cringed. There was no way I could miss her funeral. Besides, my dad needed me. It didn’t keep me from wishing my friend were with me. She always made everything seem easier.

I shook it all off and ran my hands under the water once more, splashing my face and neck to cool my skin. A heavy feeling dropped into the pit of my stomach. I could feel time slipping away too fast. It was almost time to leave. The sun was already lower in the sky. My dad wanted a late afternoon graveside service, but I didn’t have the strength to argue about it with him.

I rushed downstairs but stopped at the kitchen counter. I turned to look at the dustpan I left on the floor. I braced myself against the wall with my healed hand. There was still blood on the glass. I stared at the mess until I heard the roar of the car engine and a honk outside. I didn’t have a car yet, and with Ailaina gone, my dad was my ride to the cemetery.

I left the kitchen and dashed to the front door. The crisp October air blasted my flushed skin making me shiver as I shut the door behind me. It got this cold when snow was close. Maybe this year we’d get a foot or two. I wrapped my sweater around me tighter, hoping to keep the chill from freezing my body. In late fall, Northeastern Nevada was usually cold, but this afternoon seemed even more frigid than usual. It hadn’t been cold until this week.

My dad waited for me in his silver BMW, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel. I opened the passenger side door and sat down, closing the door in one motion.

Both of us sat in silence as he drove. I bit my cheek to keep from talking about something neither of us wanted to talk about.

My eyes filled with tears again against my wishes, and I pressed my lips together. I became oblivious to the world around me as I stared at the dashboard. It disturbed me to look up and see the cemetery as we got near. It sat on a hill. Close to the only high school in our little town. Tall trees outlined the fence, giving shade and some protection from the sometimes-harsh winds.

My heart raced so fast I thought it would explode. I stifled a whimper inside my throat, and my airways felt restricted. I held my breath, not wanting to cry in front of my dad anymore. I covered my face with my hands trying to hide the pain, but nothing could stop what I felt. I gasped for air, and the tears fell.

He parked along the side of the road, and then opened the door. He reached over and patted my leg. “It’ll be okay kiddo.” He hesitated, but then got out of the car, leaving me there alone.

It was hard to believe him. Nothing was okay today. Taking another deep breath, I prepared myself for the inevitable. I lifted my head and gazed out the windshield.

A handful of people arrived early to come say their final goodbyes to my mom. Many of the faces I didn't recognize. It looked as if they were hospital workers and a Bishop from one of the local churches. I assumed it was out of respect that he came since we seldom attended church growing up. I could remember going with friends when I was little. I liked him and remembered his compassion toward my family.

The black suits and dresses blurred together. The cream-colored coffin was the only thing I could see as I blinked back my tears. It sat in the middle of the small crowd. Pink roses draped over the top—her favorite.

I sat up straighter, holding my breath to stop the tears. I grabbed the handle and forced myself to open the door. Once I was sure I could stand without the support of the car, I closed it. I spotted my dad greeting people and shaking hands with the bishop. He stopped to glance over at me. His look pleaded for me to come over and stand with him. I forced a fake smile for him, but it didn’t last long. The whole scene in front of me seemed surreal.

The grass was stiff and crunched as I walked. The fresh scent of dry autumn leaves smelled cold—it smelled like death. My balance was not steady, and I teetered as I reached the edge of the burial plot. I reached out to touch the casket. I guess I needed to feel the hard steel under my fingers, knowing my mom was inside. I closed my eyes and remembered her smile, her laugh, her warmth.

A hand covered mine, and I opened my eyes to another set staring right back at me. I gasped. To see him here surprised me. His slicked back black hair gleamed in the afternoon sun. His jaw clenched, and I could see the muscles in his neck flex, but his brow line etched in worry.

I met him at the hospital after my mom’s accident. He was one of her doctors that I swore never left her side. I shivered thinking of the hospital. That whole week was still a blur. The memory of the phone call was vague. I could remember my dad telling me there was an accident, but on the rest of the conversation I blanked out.

“Dr. Walsh?”

He gave me a sympathetic smile. I recognized it because I had gotten them all week. “Come sit down with me,” his voice was low.

I slid my hand down the casket before turning to follow him to the front row of folding chairs and sat next to him. I glanced over my shoulder. More cars pulled in next to the cemetery. Most of the people I saw arriving were my dad’s friends.

I averted my eyes from the crowd back to the casket. The roses on top looked stiff in the cold, with the edge of the petals frosted over. The sight made my heart ache even more, and I wished I could make them all appear revived, as much as I wished my mom were alive.

I stared at the flowers, closing off the world. The petals filled out and lifted as the roses bloomed anew. I shook my head. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks again, like with my hands earlier.

“You shouldn’t do that in front of mortals.” A hot whisper warmed the side of my face as the doctor leaned close to me, causing me to jump. It unnerved me to be that close to him.

The flowers had enthralled me so much that I hadn’t thought about anyone else seeing them. A shiver ran down the length of my back. Without saying anything more, he sat back in his seat and stared at the casket.