AN: Alright, so this was another assignment for my creative writing class at school. I am simple putting it up here to get feedback. Let me know what you think and now, there will be no continuation, it is a one shot and no, I won’t change anything.

To Be Left in Silence. . . Again

Dark Angel

2007

There is an old tricycle sitting in our backyard. One of the older kinds with the red and white paint, chipped and rusted, the white streamers hanging from the handlebars, dirty and torn. Papa got it for my baby sister and me when I turned six and she was still five. It used to be his when he was younger, and mama had a fit when he told her that he had given it to us. She said that she didn’t want her children to be seen on such a “rugged” toy. I was amazed when Papa just smiled, ignoring my mama’s protest, knowing that my sister and I had already fallen in love. And we had.

We rode that bike around the backyard time after time. Taking turns and riding together when our parents weren’t watching. My sister would sit on the seat peddling as hard as she could, her small pink sandaled feet a blur of motion, while I stood on the back stand, my hands gripping her shoulders.

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Through the rain and mud of spring, the heat of summer, and well into the fall leaves of autumn we rode together. We loved the tricycle and cast our other toys to the side at the thought of playing with it a little more. My sister, with all of her bouncing golden curls and bright blue eyes, would always wear her pink sandals, even when it was cold out. I was in awe when she told mama calmly, every time she became flustered and protested that the sandals “were lucky.” And mama would be at such a loss for words that she would give in.

When autumn came, leaves would fly up from the wheels, getting caught in our hair and coaxing giggles and smiles from the two of us. Sometimes, we would be going so fast that we would tip over, landing in the leaves with a big puff. We never got hurt, and we always laughed about it, starting our game over again.

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One day our game came to a halt. One of sissy’s sandals, the pink ones that she loved so much, got caught on one of the pedals. We went falling to the ground, just the two of us, and instead of excited laughter, she began to cry. She cried and cried and wouldn’t stop, no matter how much I tried to make her feel better.

Her one pink sandal sat torn and mangled next to the fallen tricycle, its front wheel still spinning slowly, squeaking. It’s still there today. . . .

Finally, papa came out, after I had called and called for what seemed like forever. He scooped sissy up in his arms where she looked so small and fragile and I was left to trail behind. He brought her into the house and laid her down on the couch with a blanket. She was still crying, gripping to the blanket so tightly and staring blankly at nothing. It all scared me so no matter my want to comfort her I ran to my room and hid under my bed. That was the last time I saw her.

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That night I heard mama and papa whispering to one another through the wall in my room. They were talking about how sissy’s “swelling” hadn’t gone down. She hadn’t stopped crying either. . . I could hear her sobbing through the other wall in my room. I was too scared to go to sleep and even more scared to move from the bed. An hour later I heard the two of them get up and go to sissy’s room. Her sobs and cries were muffled by the wall, but I heard papa pick her up and carry her out of her room. They went down the stairs and I heard the front door open. Then, it closed. I was shaking, scared as I heard the car start and saw the bright headlights over the rim of my window. The car moved slowly down the driveway until I couldn’t hear it anymore. The house was deathly quiet. I was alone. They had left me.

My breath caught in my throat. Silent tears streaming down my face. I was shocked. Too shocked to cry out loud. Too shocked to scream. What would be so wrong with sissy? Why would they leave me alone? Did I not matter to them? Quiet. Silence. Dark. For three days I was alone. . . .

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Grandma came over the night of the third day. I was hiding under the stairs, scared of the headlights I had suddenly seen coming up our drive way. Someone was coming in to our house unannounced. I had thought that I was on my own. My parent’s weren’t going to come back for me. Abandoned. For good.

My soft, tearless cries brought grandma to my hiding place as soon as she walked in. I never found out why she had come too our house that night. I never asked. Her wrinkled face, normally hard, softened into smile when she saw me.

“What are you doing here all by yourself?” she had asked, kneeling down.

My own lips could not even form a reply as I began to cry real tears of relief. Someone was there for me. Found again. Gently, she pulled me into her warm embrace. Kissing me as a promise of what was to come. I felt safe again.

Grandma brought life back into the house. She cooked me dinner and let me watch TV as late as I wanted, then tucked me into bed that night. All thoughts of my parents leaving were left behind. So were those thoughts of sissy and how she was doing. A full stomach and the promise of safety banished it along with the thoughts of my childhood bliss.

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It as not until the next morning that my parents came home. Well, my father came home. I can remember it so well. I ran down the stairs, ready to jump into his arms, but the tired look on his face stopped me. Tears brimmed in his murky green eyes as he pushed past me into the kitchen, acting like a ghost, as if I didn’t exist. I was invisible.

“Papa, what’s wrong?” I whispered, pulling on his coat sleeve as he sat down at the kitchen table.

He ignored me. I was see through. He stared at the table looking sad. I will never forget those silent tears that fell from his eyes. Grandma turned from her place at the stove to glare at him.

“You left you child here—!” she stared to say but stopped as Papa began to mumble something, “What?”

He mumbled it again and we both could not hear.

“What is it Papa?” I asked this time more loudly.

“She’s dead,” he started roughly, “your sister’s dead.”

I stepped back, shocked. Grandma cried instantly. I stared, my mouth fell open. My beautiful sister. My baby sissy. I would never see her again.

I can remember so clearly the silence that followed the heartbreaking news. The silence that proceeded the days before the funeral. My father became a hollow shell that wandered around our once comforting home. There always seemed to be tears in his eyes and I never understood why. I had cried all through the night and then there were no more tears left to cry.

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Mama came home later that afternoon because she had to take care of sissy’s body. She ignored me just as much. Crying all the time and sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. I didn’t know what to do with both of my parent’s so upset and my precious sissy gone forever. I tried to cry myself to sleep but the tears would not come.

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I can remember Grandma being the one who held the family together. She was the only one who every paid any attention to me and she was the one who cooked the family meals, called those people who needed to be called and sat me down to explain what had really happened to my sissy.

“Now I don’t want you to blame yourself for any of the things that have happened,” she scolded me that first day after.

Her eyes were red and bloodshot from a night spent in our guestroom crying just as much. But Grandma was a strong lady. She sat me down at the kitchen table and tried to explain to me what had happened. To Sissy. At first, she recited word for word what mama and papa had told her, but I was only confused, still chocked and upset. So, when I didn’t respond at all to what she said she took a deep breath and tried to explain again.

Sissy had only hurt her leg, but Grandma explained to me that when they were going to fix sissy’s leg they found something that was hurting her more than her leg. She simply called it “cancer,” or a “big black thing” as she later described it. I really don’t even understand now what a “tumor” is or was. No one tried to explain it to me after that. All I know is that the tumor was very big and they had to try to take it out. When they were trying to do this, sissy died.

When grandma was done explaining to me what had happened she gave me a big hug and I could feel that her body was shaking and I didn’t know why. .She kept telling me that everything would all be alright. I started to cry again, real tears this time.

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I can remember that the funeral was the next day. It was a simple small service and pretty little yellow and white flowers covered sissy’s casket. Everyone was crying and the man who did all the talking at the service explained how sissy had had a full life, but that God felt as if it were time for her to go. Why couldn’t have God waited to take sissy until I had told her more things? Why couldn’t have God told me that he was going to take sissy so I could have said goodbye one last time. I sat between Mama and Papa who did nothing but stare straight ahead, no more tears to cry.

After the service, people came up to me and told me that they were sorry. They asked me lot of questions and I could not remember who was who anymore. So many people. So many faces I didn’t know. All the loneliness and uncertainly that I had felt within the last week was suddenly upon me again until grandma found me by myself, lost in the crowd. She took my hand and I felt found again. Until she left.

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After the funeral, Grandma went home. Papa said that they didn’t need her in the house anymore and that they would call her if anything changed. I can remember so clearly how she hugged me when we were saying goodbye. My arms were barely long enough to reach around her and I didn’t want to let her go. I clung to her and begged her with all my heart to stay.

She just smiled and laughed quietly, telling me that she couldn’t stay, but if I ever needed someone all I would have to do is call her. She patted me on the head, kissed my forehead and then left. Once again, someone walked out of my life that I would never see again.

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A year went by and our house turned to shambles. Mama cooked meals every once in a while and Papa went to work with no interest. Most of the time I would be left for days at a time to fend for myself. I wished grandma would come to take care of me again but she never even came to visit. Two days after the anniversary of sissy’s death someone called on the phone who wanted to talk to Papa. The person sounded very upset and I told Papa so when I gave him the phone. Still, he just stared through me out the window.

I wandered in the other room while he spoke on the phone and I can remember how I had felt sick to my stomach but didn’t know why. A few minutes later Papa came out of the kitchen, stopped in the hallway and didn’t look at me as he said, “Your grandmother is dead.”

I cried and cried and asked God over and over again how he could take grandma from me. I wasn’t even allowed to go to the funeral since Mama and Papa didn’t go. I wondered myself over and over what was wrong with them.

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It has been two years since sissy died and only a year since grandma died. . . Today in fact, is the anniversary of sissy’s death. The fall colors have held on longer this year and as I stare at the ceiling through the dark, I can imagine them in my mind.

Today was one of the first days that papa and mama seemed alive again. They weren’t fighting, screaming and yelling at one another. For some reason it seemed as if the past had been left behind them. Both of them were smiling and it amazed me. I was so surprised.

During the afternoon I managed to coax Papa out of the house into the backyard to play with me. He smile and laughed as I tugged on his hand, pulling him farther and father across the deck and into the leaves that coated the grass of our backyard. There was the one thing that I forgot about in my happiness though, the tricycle and the little pink sandal. Both were still sitting in the yard, rusted and covered with leaves, still overturned.

When Papa saw them he stopped and stared, his eyes clouding over. It was then that I knew my invisibility had returned. He stared and stared and stared. Tears welled up and made his eyes murky.

“Papa! Papa!” I called up to him but he did not acknowledge me. No matter how much I called his name or pulled on his arm he continued to ignore me. I followed his gaze and stared as Sissy’s sandal and the over turned tricycle as well. It only reminded me that she was gone and that I had never really told her goodbye. But that was part of my past, I wanted my Papa back.

As the moments passed, he just turned and walked slowly back into the house leaving me to trail behind. I was a ghost.

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The rest of the afternoon was much the same with Mama and Papa starting to fight almost the moment that Papa and I came back in from the yard. Mama didn’t make dinner that night, I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while they yelled at each other in the living room while the TV blared.

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They were fighting again when we all went to bed that night. They screamed, yelled and cursed one another. Papa kept going on about how it was Mama’s fault for not taking sissy for her checkup and Mama yelled at Papa about it being his fault because he gave sissy and I the bike in the first place.

On and on they went and I was sent back to the night when all of this had happened in the first place. Their whispers were replaced by yells this time.

I prayed that grandma could be there for me. Then I remember that God had taken her away. Just like had had taken sissy away from me. Now, I was invisible to my parents who fought and fought for reasons I didn’t understand. Why was God being so mean to me?

It was then that I curled up in a little ball in the middle of my bed, unable to go to sleep because of my parent’s screams that pierced through my skin like thousands of little bees. For once, I actually wished that I could disappear, be invisible, as my parent’s had seen me for the past two years.

The pitch of my mother’s voice changed suddenly and it caught my attention. She sounded scared and I realized that papa was threatening her. My breath was coming faster and I thought that my heart would burst out of my chest. Mama screamed and papa cursed her over and over again. Mama was crying. Then, she screamed again and there were a lot of loud thudding noises. Mama went quiet.

A few moments passed and I realized that tears were streaming down my face but I didn’t know why. I could hear Papa sobbing in the room next to me. He sounded so close, so helpless. There was a lot of rummaging as he looked for something and then the turning of a key in a rusty lock. A clicking noise, a loud bang, and all was silent once more.

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The house is so quiet now, just as quiet as it was two years ago. I’m still crying and I don’t know why. I want to go into Mama and Papa’s room to see why it is suddenly so quiet but something is stopping me. I am scared of what I will find. Maybe they are just sleeping.

My heartbeat sounds so loud in my ears and my own breathing is all that I can see as I stared at the ceiling. It is suddenly so cold. The glow in the dark stars that Papa placed there for me long ago have dimmed so you can’t see them anymore. Everything is dark and there is a little voice in the back of my mind that keeps repeating the same thing over and over again.

You are alone again for ever and ever and ever and ever. . .

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AN: Any thoughts?