Prompt me not, for these are my prompts - 6. Endings

“Because, I’m leaving you.”

We both heard my father’s anguished voice as he read that line and collapsed to the floor. Angie rushed to his side and hugged him.

“Please, don’t cry Dad. We love you.”

I stood frozen to the spot watching him heave and cry. This was the man who had fallen from the roof, broken his leg, and had the bone come out. The most we had heard was him call for Mama saying he needed an ambulance. Now he was crying like an infant. Angie hung onto him, crying as well.

“Why Chrissy?” His voice was raw and eyes were red.

I backed out of the kitchen doorway and ran to the cupboard under the stairs where I quickly curled up into a ball. The day had been one of complete change and the people I had most relied on proved to be far less than I thought of them.

Early in the morning I had woken up and padded into the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and headed downstairs expecting to find mom making breakfast. The kitchen was empty. I decided to get my own and poured out a bowl of cereal, some milk, and a glass of orange juice. I was nearly done when Angie came in.

“Whatcha doing?”

I sat down and looked at my sister as she shook her mane of hair and walked towards me.

“Eating. Duh!”

“I mean, where is mom?”

“Don’t know.”

Angie is older than me by ten months. She was born in February and I was born in December. Though most people think we are twins, she is the older of the two of us and she never lets me forget it.

“Hmm.” Angie followed my example and poured herself out a bowl of cereal too. When I finished I was going to go watch cartoons but I heard a thud upstairs from mom and dad’s room. I went back upstairs and looked through the open door and saw mom packing.

Last time she packed was to go stay with grandma when she came home from the hospital.

“What are you doing?” Angie whispered as she came up behind me.

I pointed at mom as she packed.

“What’s she doing?”

“Packing.”

Angie just rolled her eyes and walked past me. She walked over to the door way and watched mom go through the drawers. Mom had boxes on the floor and the closet was wide open with nearly all her clothes on the bed.

“Mom?”

Mom stopped and turned to look at Angie.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Mom shook her head. “I’m packing. Now go downstairs and … watch tv or something.”

Angie stayed there, frozen in place. I walked over and pulled her away, leading her downstairs again.

“Why is she packing?”

“Maybe grandma is sick again.”

“No. Grandma was going to see Aunt Marisa.”

I shrugged and turned on the TV. I sat down, while Angie lay down on the floor watching the staircase. That morning we watched mom carry down box after box of her clothes marked garbage. She carried the boxes out and set them by the street. After a while we both sat watching as mom made trip after trip down, finally coming down in the late afternoon with three suitcases and piling them by the front door.

“Where are you going?” I stood in the doorway watching as my mother slipped her rings off her finger.

“Away. Sorry, Charlie, but I was never made to live this sort of life. I am going to be thirty and not a single thing I wanted for myself has happened. I need more than,” mom stopped and waved her hands at me, Angie, and the house before she continued, “all of this. Your father and I should never have married. God knows I shouldn’t have stayed here this long. I thought I could do it, but I’m done.”

“Momma?” Angie sounded so lost as she stood looking at our mother.

“No. Not any longer.”

Angie jumped when we heard a car horn blow outside. Mom turned, looked out the window, and her face broke into a big smile.

“When are you coming home?”

“Charlie, I’m going home.”

We watched mom slide her rings into an envelope that had Robert written on it. There was some paper inside. She put the envelope on the table and turned to face us.

“Make sure your father opens the envelope when he gets home. Charlie, help me carry this other case outside.”

There was a bright yellow cab outside. The driver popped the trunk and came over to help mom put the cases in the back. Angie had followed us outside. We stood together in our pajamas as the trunk was closed and mom got into the back of the cab.

“Momma!” Angie cried and began to run after the cab, but mom never even turned around. I walked over and led her back inside.

Neither of us were hungry. We sat on the couch and didn’t say much. The house grew darker and eventually I got up and put on the light in the living room. It felt like years till we heard dad’s old truck pull into the driveway.

I was sure that dad would make everything okay. He always knew how to make things better.

“Hey gang, I’m home!”

Angie ran right to him and hugged him.

“Angie baby, what’s wrong?”

“Momma …” Angie stood there and began to cry.

“Chrissy? Chrissy?” Dad called louder and louder and began to move into the kitchen. He turned and looked at the two of us. “Where is your mother? Did something happen?”

“She’s gone.” I walked over, picked up the envelope, and handed it to dad.

“Gone? Charlie what on earth are you talking about?”

Dad ripped open the envelope and mom’s rings fell to the floor. He stopped looking at us and stood there with his mouth open. Then he began to read the letter. I watched as his face grew red and then the tears began to fall. Angie and I stood there mutely as Dad read through the letter. Occasionally, he would read out loud various lines that simply hurt in ways I’d never imagined.

“Never loved the kids …. hated taking care of a house … couldn’t give up my dreams any longer … ungrateful brats … my stupid mother and sister.”

Each time he read one out loud I grew to hate both of my parents. Angie stood there shaking and crying. I just wanted to hit something.

Then dad collapsed reading how mom was leaving him.

Dad couldn’t fix this. Mom wasn’t coming back. Angie didn’t know what to do. I just wanted to get away before I hit something.

How could my world get any worse?