Denial

“You’re sure you’ve got everything packed.” Alicia nods as she tapes up the last box. It’s just large enough to fit her six spiral notebooks, the thesaurus her mother had given her and the multitude of pens, pencils, highlighters and two reams of printer paper.

“I left out my clothes for tomorrow, on my dresser, the rest are in the suitcase. Everything’s packed except my toothbrush and face wash which I’ll grab in the morning.”

“That’s good. Here, let me take that. I’ll put it in the car with rest of the stuff. I want to get going by ten at the latest. It’s going to take a couple hours to get there.” She handed her dad the last box and breathed out a sigh of relief.  She flops down onto the couch, her head hanging over the arm.

“All ready then,” her mothers soft voice has her eyes open and slowly sitting up, as though moving too quickly might startle her from the room.

“Ah, yeah. All set. Just have to pack up my toiletries tomorrow morning then I’m all set to go.”  A heartbeat later she hears the front door open and close as her father comes back into the house. Her mother gives a small tired smile before walking back into the kitchen. Once again she deflates against the couch.

Four weeks of living with parents that can’t seem to manage to stay in the same room together without either dissolving into tears or descending into vexed silence. Her mother avoiding her father, and if they do manage to end up in the same room, she doesn’t look at him. Her father seems to be out of words. She watches him go stiff each time her mother walks into the room, as if bracing for an attack. His face going blank, yet he never seems able to take the hurt out of his eyes when all she says is a bland ‘good morning’.

“They’re gonna be OK, you know,” she hadn’t heard her sister come into the room, she never does anymore.

“One day I hope I’ll actually believe that. Decided you were done hiding in your room?”

“You were busy packing. I didn’t want to get in the way.”

“Not like your presence could make things any worse,” Alicia sits forward, her hands running through her hair with a frustrated tug.

“It’ll get better you know. They just need time to work things out, and now you’re leaving, Mom’s just even more afraid and it’s stressing her out, which is stressing Dad out. Give it a few weeks. She’ll calm down. Just make sure you call every day for a while so she knows you’re ok.”

“Yeah, no worries there. I’ll be calling everyday just to make sure the house is still standing. Damn it, it was finally getting better. Mom and Dad were talking again. Mom was doing her painting. I really thought the worst was over, then Dad brings home that new bed set I wanted for the dorm. Next thing I know she’s cursing Dad, telling him that if something happens to me while I’m gone it’s his fault for letting me go to a school so far away. It’s two hours!”

“I think it just finally hit her that you’re leaving. After what happened to me, she’s not ready to let you go yet. Just be prepared for some surprise visits,” Tara laughs and Alicia can’t help her smile even if she groans at the thought.

***

“It’s ok you know. To be excited.” Alicia sits on her bed, still in the over sized T-shirt and shorts she wore to bed when Tara comes in.

“I know and I am,” Alicia nods and looks up at her sister.

“So why does it look like you’ve just been condemned? I mean I get it, it’s four years of actually living at a school, but if TV has shown us anything college has it’s perks,” Tara grins and joins her sister on the bed. Alicia laughs, it’s soft and short but it’s the first honest laugh in weeks.

“It’s not school. I like school. I’ve always liked school. It’s just I won’t be here, I’m leaving in a few hours and I won’t be back until Thanksgiving. That’s three months. We’ve never gone that long without seeing each other. Not even after the accident.” Frustrated energy has her on her feet. Tara watches her pace across the the width of the room.

“I can’t just leave you here. Not with how things are with Mom and Dad. I mean, I might as well be leaving you in solitary confinement.”

“I’ll be fine, and three months isn’t that long. The time will fly by, besides things with Mom and Dad aren’t so bad. They’re just, after everything that happened last year I understand. They just aren’t ready yet.”

“What about you. That accident changed everything for you too. I mean, how can they just keep ignoring you?  It’s not right”

“No, but I’ll keep trying, I’ll keep talking to them. Eventually, I hope, they will listen, and eventually they will forgive each other. In the mean time, you are going to college. You are going to go to parties, meet new people and at least one of them had better be a guy. You are going to come back at Thanksgiving and you are going to tell me everything all the good and embarrassing moments.”

Alicia stops pacing, unconsciously she brushes a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear and stares at her little sister. Tara, smiles and hopes it’s encouraging. They’re eighteen months apart, yet more often than not people have confused them for twins. They’ve got the same round face, dark hair and eyes. Only Tara is a little taller, her body leaner from the years of ballet Alicia had given up on in second grade for gymnastics.

“Lia, look. It’s ok to go. You don’t have to feel guilty about it. This is what you’re supposed to do,” She smiles wider and stand’s up and moves within a few inches of her sister so that she can’t escape her gaze.

“Bad things happen. I’m OK. You’re allowed to move on with your life. The accident hurt all of us, but you shouldn’t let it control what you want to do.”

“You haven’t yet, look at you. You can’t even leave the house,” Tara winces at the truth, even if Alicia was more hurt than accusatory. It was the sad truth. She couldn’t leave the house, no matter how much she wished to. She wasn’t ready yet.

“I’ll get passed it. I will, but first I have to focus on Mom and Dad before I can worry about me.”

“We’ve been over this. How are you going to get them to listen to you? Eighteen months, it’s been more than a year since the accident but they won’t even entertain the idea.”

“Look at me, Alicia. I’m going to make them listen. I promise you. I’ve always been good at being creative, I’ll think of something. I always do. Remember, who convinced them to let us go to Johnny and Sean’s party despite the fact they were seniors? Me.”

“You convinced them we were staying over at Elle and Vicky’s.”

“It wasn’t a total lie, we did spend the night with them, at the party. Besides who convinced them that your hangover was the flu?” Tara can only grin as her sister rolls her eyes, her shoulders relaxing.

“Come on you had better shower and change. Mom’s going to want to make you breakfast before you go, and Dad’s going to want to get on the road as soon as you’re finished.”

Tara watches her sister leave the room. She follows her half way down the hall to the bathroom before taking the stairs down to the first floor. Her mother is in the kitchen already cracking eggs. There’s french toast staying warm in the oven. Her dad sits at the table, his back to the stove. She stares at them, letting her eyes trail from one to the other. The silence in the room is too heavy.

“The two of you are acting like children. You have got to get over it already. It was an accident, a horrible, terrible freak accident. Mom you’ve got to stop blaming Dad. Damn it, you guys have got to listen to me.” She raises her hand to grasp her father’s arm and goes still. She stares down at her hand, at the translucent shine it shows under the morning sun. She can almost make out the kitchen table through the back of her hand.  She’s come to hate the sunlight. In the dark she can almost forget, pretend it’s not true, but the sunlight likes to play traitor.

She wants to scream, but only Alicia will hear, and she’ll never leave if she does. “How do I move on when you guys can’t even let it go? Forgive each other already. It was no one’s fault, hell if it was anyone’s fault it was mine.”

She walks around the table, until she can look at her father in the face. He’s eating oatmeal, the only things he knows how to make not on the grill. She stares at his face, hoping to catch his eyes.

“I’m going to make you hear me, and when I do you’re going to listen. I promise you, even if I have to bring the whole house down to do it, you’re going to hear me,” She watches her father jump as the bulb over head pops, the glass shattering to the table. It’s only for a moment, but she watches her parents share a look, watches as their eyes meet in momentary fear, a shadow of hope, before the denial sets in once more. She watches her father clean up the glass, her mother rescue her eggs before they burn and once again the silence folds over the room.

“I promised her you’d listen. I’m not leaving until you do.”