An original story...
I wrote this a couple of months ago. For some reason I just started writing and couldn't stop. I have no idea what made me write about this. It's basically about the day I found out my cousin, Tiffany, died. I was really young, but I remember it all very clearly. So here it is...
Waiting For My Friend
I was supposed to walk home that day. My best friend, Nancy, and I met our brothers at the school gate and we were all going to walk home, like we usually did. The boys were walking ahead of us, talking about some video game. Nance and I had much more important things to talk about: our new Barbie dolls.
The sun was shining and our book bags were light, it was a beautiful day. Nothing could go wrong. But then again, what could go wrong in the simple life of a seven-year-old girl?
We were standing at the corner awaiting the OK from the crossing guard when Mommy’s familiar car horn startled us to attention.
"Janice! Jared! Come on,” she called, waving us hurriedly to the car.
Jared and I gave each other matching confused looks. We only lived six blocks away. Mom never picked us up, unless it was raining or too cold to walk. But it was a sunny spring day. The sun shone brightly and there wasn’t a care in the world. Except in her voice and in the way she watched us as we climbed into her ugly, old brown station wagon. Jared in the front seat and me in the back.
"How was school?” she asked, her voice high pitched and sounding strained.
"Fine,” Jared answers staring at her as she drove home.
I either hadn’t noticed her odd behavior or decided to ignore it. I immediately began giving her the important Second Grade gossip of the day. “There was a homeless man at school today! Well, he wasn’t in the school. He was sleeping on the fence during lunch. It wasn’t my lunch, so I didn’t see him. But some kids put ketchup on him and said he was dead!” A small noise came from Mommy, but I ignored it as well. “But Miss McConall went on the loud speaker and told everyone it wasn’t true. I think it was mean of the person who did it, to do that.” I paused, expecting to be told I was a very nice person to think this, but it didn’t come. “Did you see him, Jay?”
"No,” he answers, not looking at me, his eyes still on Mommy as she touches her cheek.
We pull into the driveway and Mommy jumps the curb, scraping the bumper. I laugh, but Jared shoots me a dirty look from the front seat. I stick my tongue out at him, but I stop laughing just the same.
Mommy opens the doors and leads us into the house. The moment we’re inside, Jared and I fight to be the first to turn the television on. It was a house rule that whomever turns the TV on first chooses the first show. I won! I never won, but I won this time.
"No TV, just now, guys,” Mommy takes the remote from my hand before I can change the channel to cartoons.
“I don’t have a lotta homework.” I whine, pointing at my abandoned book bag in the middle of the hall. “Can I watch Chip and Dale and then do it? It’s just a worksheet and some sentences. I can do it in two seconds.”
Mommy blinks and runs her hand through her thick, curly hair. Jared again shoots me a dirty look; I ignore him.
“Sit down, you two. I have something to tell you.” Mommy takes a seat on the couch.
Now it’s my turn to give Jared a look, but this one is a worried one. We obey and we each take a seat. Jared sits close to Mommy, while I sit perched on my ‘pony’, which was really the couch armrest.
“I got some bad news today.” She takes a deep breath and my mind goes to our dog, Weiser, who had run away the week before; he had returned safely, but maybe he got out again. “From Aunt Gail,” she continues. My mind leaves Weiser and goes to Aunt Gail’s two dogs, Sandy and Shadow, both of whom were at least twice as old as me. “Your cousin, Tiffany…” her voice jumps, like one of Pop-Pop’s old records he forces us to listen to when he watches us. “She was walking to school and got hit by a car.” A few tears fall down her cheek. “She’s with God now, in Heaven.” Mommy’s eyes watch us carefully as her words hung in the air.
Jared stares at her and then laughs. “Mom, that’s not nice.”
I laugh along with him. It must be a joke. I laugh harder teetering on my ‘pony’.
Mommy reaches for Jared’s hand and squeezes it. “I’m not joking. She’s gone,” she says, softly.
Jared’s laughter fades as his chin wobbles and he begins to cry. Mommy holds him as he howls.
I laugh louder. “Jared! I can’t believe you think she telling the truth. Mommy, tell him you’re lying.” I know Mommy would never joke about something like that. But Tiffany’s was only nine years old. Nine year olds do not die. They just don’t. Old people die. Not my cousin not my friend, who always played with me even though I was smaller and younger. No, Tiffany would not die. It’s impossible and I refuse to believe it. But Jared does. And Mommy’s crying as she rocks him back and forth.
“She’s not in Heaven!” I say angrily. “Stop crying, Stupid!” I yell at Jared as my own eyes fill with tears. “She’s not… Stop lying. It’s not nice!” I’m not laughing anymore. Tears slide down my chubby cheeks and I fall off the armrest and into Jared. My head slams into his shoulder and I cry harder. He pulls away from me digging himself deeper into Mommy’s embrace. She pulls me closer and hugs the both of us. And we all cry together.
Although the words have sunken in, I still don’t believe it. Tiffany is alive. She can’t be… dead. God wouldn’t let her be… that.
Days passed in a blur. Mommy hugged us more often. Daddy would peek in on us while we pretended to sleep more and more times during the night. Even our big brother, Jimmy, who at fourteen was nearly a full grown-up, didn’t yell at us once. He even hugged me a few times. I relished the affection from him, no matter how odd it was. Jared was quieter than normal. He lost his temper less frequently and let me play A-Team with him, even though I never came up with any good plans to save the day.
As for me, I did what I normally did. After all, I didn’t believe fully that Tiff was gone. The only difference in my routine was instead of going to the playroom when Mommy put the news on, I sat in front of the TV with my crayons and coloring book. I figured if Tiffany were really in Heaven, it’d be on the news. All big events were on the evening news, and what could be bigger than the death of my cousin?
But there was never any story. I thought maybe they needed to interview people first. So every time the doorbell rang, I expected a news crew. They never came.
But Aunt Gail did.
I was coming down the stairs for a snack, when I heard Mommy talking in a quiet voice in the dining room. I heard Aunt Gail and thought instantly she’d come to tell us the truth. Tiffany wasn’t in Heaven. Of course, she wasn’t that’s why no reporters came. That’s why it hadn’t been on the news. It never happened.
I ran into the dining room and called to my favorite aunt. Mommy gave me a worried, warning look, but I ignored it. Aunt Gail always laughed; she always smiled and was loud and fun.
But the woman in front of me was none of those things. She stood and turned to look at me. She looked about a hundred years older and she was crying. Her ever-present blue eye shadow wasn’t there. I’d never seen her without make-up. She stared at me for a moment before grabbing a hold of me and pulling me close. She hugged me tightly and cried.
I didn’t know what to do, I stared at Mommy from over Aunt Gail’s shoulder, but she was no help. She too was crying and looked as helpless as I felt. I never noticed how very thin Aunt Gail was, how small. For the first time I saw I was nearly her size. But she was so tiny, how could I have not noticed that before?
I’d never seen an adult so sad. She mumbled things in my ear, but I couldn’t understand her through her sobs. I wanted to cry out in desperation but I couldn’t breathe, she was squeezing me too tight.
Mommy finally pulled her off of me and I stood frozen, rooted to the spot. Mommy held this woman, who I didn’t recognize, who I wouldn’t recognize ever again. I didn’t need Mommy to tell me twice, however, when she gestured to me to leave from over Aunt Gail’s shoulder. Once my legs regained their ability to move, I ran up the stairs and into Jared’s room to warn him not to go down the stairs.
I stayed in my room the rest of the day, even after Aunt Gail left. I stayed in, trying and failing to erase the sight of Aunt Gail broken and sobbing from my mind.
When the day of Tiffany’s funeral came, I demanded to go. Jimmy was going, I thought I deserved to go as well. But Mommy refused, saying it wasn’t the place for children. I didn’t care though. I know Tiffany would be there, and that’s all that mattered to me.
But Mommy and Daddy and Jimmy left without me, leaving Jared and I with our Grandmother. I sulked in my room, not knowing what to do. I had always heard funerals were for saying good-bye. If I didn’t go, did that mean I could never say good-bye to Tiffany? And if I didn’t say goodbye, did that mean she’d always be around?
Isn’t that what Mommy had said, that Tiffany would always be in my heart? I liked the idea, but even at seven years old I knew that having her be alive would be a much better deal. I was very mad at God.
I asked Mommy if Tiffany was really in Heaven. She told me all God’s children go to Heaven. I know she thought that that was comforting to me. But it wasn’t. I knew in order to get to Heaven, you had to die first. And I simply didn’t like the idea of Tiffany being dead.
Mommy avoided using the word ‘dead’. She would say ‘passed on’ or ‘gone’ or ‘in Heaven’ or ‘with the angels’. I suppose it’s a hard concept for anyone to think of a nine-year-old girl as dead.
Even now I find it hard to think about. I don’t think I’ll ever come to grips with the reality of the situation. I suppose that when it comes to Tiffany, I’ll always see myself as a seven-year-old waiting for her friend to come back.
The End
Waiting For My Friend
I was supposed to walk home that day. My best friend, Nancy, and I met our brothers at the school gate and we were all going to walk home, like we usually did. The boys were walking ahead of us, talking about some video game. Nance and I had much more important things to talk about: our new Barbie dolls.
The sun was shining and our book bags were light, it was a beautiful day. Nothing could go wrong. But then again, what could go wrong in the simple life of a seven-year-old girl?
We were standing at the corner awaiting the OK from the crossing guard when Mommy’s familiar car horn startled us to attention.
"Janice! Jared! Come on,” she called, waving us hurriedly to the car.
Jared and I gave each other matching confused looks. We only lived six blocks away. Mom never picked us up, unless it was raining or too cold to walk. But it was a sunny spring day. The sun shone brightly and there wasn’t a care in the world. Except in her voice and in the way she watched us as we climbed into her ugly, old brown station wagon. Jared in the front seat and me in the back.
"How was school?” she asked, her voice high pitched and sounding strained.
"Fine,” Jared answers staring at her as she drove home.
I either hadn’t noticed her odd behavior or decided to ignore it. I immediately began giving her the important Second Grade gossip of the day. “There was a homeless man at school today! Well, he wasn’t in the school. He was sleeping on the fence during lunch. It wasn’t my lunch, so I didn’t see him. But some kids put ketchup on him and said he was dead!” A small noise came from Mommy, but I ignored it as well. “But Miss McConall went on the loud speaker and told everyone it wasn’t true. I think it was mean of the person who did it, to do that.” I paused, expecting to be told I was a very nice person to think this, but it didn’t come. “Did you see him, Jay?”
"No,” he answers, not looking at me, his eyes still on Mommy as she touches her cheek.
We pull into the driveway and Mommy jumps the curb, scraping the bumper. I laugh, but Jared shoots me a dirty look from the front seat. I stick my tongue out at him, but I stop laughing just the same.
Mommy opens the doors and leads us into the house. The moment we’re inside, Jared and I fight to be the first to turn the television on. It was a house rule that whomever turns the TV on first chooses the first show. I won! I never won, but I won this time.
"No TV, just now, guys,” Mommy takes the remote from my hand before I can change the channel to cartoons.
“I don’t have a lotta homework.” I whine, pointing at my abandoned book bag in the middle of the hall. “Can I watch Chip and Dale and then do it? It’s just a worksheet and some sentences. I can do it in two seconds.”
Mommy blinks and runs her hand through her thick, curly hair. Jared again shoots me a dirty look; I ignore him.
“Sit down, you two. I have something to tell you.” Mommy takes a seat on the couch.
Now it’s my turn to give Jared a look, but this one is a worried one. We obey and we each take a seat. Jared sits close to Mommy, while I sit perched on my ‘pony’, which was really the couch armrest.
“I got some bad news today.” She takes a deep breath and my mind goes to our dog, Weiser, who had run away the week before; he had returned safely, but maybe he got out again. “From Aunt Gail,” she continues. My mind leaves Weiser and goes to Aunt Gail’s two dogs, Sandy and Shadow, both of whom were at least twice as old as me. “Your cousin, Tiffany…” her voice jumps, like one of Pop-Pop’s old records he forces us to listen to when he watches us. “She was walking to school and got hit by a car.” A few tears fall down her cheek. “She’s with God now, in Heaven.” Mommy’s eyes watch us carefully as her words hung in the air.
Jared stares at her and then laughs. “Mom, that’s not nice.”
I laugh along with him. It must be a joke. I laugh harder teetering on my ‘pony’.
Mommy reaches for Jared’s hand and squeezes it. “I’m not joking. She’s gone,” she says, softly.
Jared’s laughter fades as his chin wobbles and he begins to cry. Mommy holds him as he howls.
I laugh louder. “Jared! I can’t believe you think she telling the truth. Mommy, tell him you’re lying.” I know Mommy would never joke about something like that. But Tiffany’s was only nine years old. Nine year olds do not die. They just don’t. Old people die. Not my cousin not my friend, who always played with me even though I was smaller and younger. No, Tiffany would not die. It’s impossible and I refuse to believe it. But Jared does. And Mommy’s crying as she rocks him back and forth.
“She’s not in Heaven!” I say angrily. “Stop crying, Stupid!” I yell at Jared as my own eyes fill with tears. “She’s not… Stop lying. It’s not nice!” I’m not laughing anymore. Tears slide down my chubby cheeks and I fall off the armrest and into Jared. My head slams into his shoulder and I cry harder. He pulls away from me digging himself deeper into Mommy’s embrace. She pulls me closer and hugs the both of us. And we all cry together.
Although the words have sunken in, I still don’t believe it. Tiffany is alive. She can’t be… dead. God wouldn’t let her be… that.
Days passed in a blur. Mommy hugged us more often. Daddy would peek in on us while we pretended to sleep more and more times during the night. Even our big brother, Jimmy, who at fourteen was nearly a full grown-up, didn’t yell at us once. He even hugged me a few times. I relished the affection from him, no matter how odd it was. Jared was quieter than normal. He lost his temper less frequently and let me play A-Team with him, even though I never came up with any good plans to save the day.
As for me, I did what I normally did. After all, I didn’t believe fully that Tiff was gone. The only difference in my routine was instead of going to the playroom when Mommy put the news on, I sat in front of the TV with my crayons and coloring book. I figured if Tiffany were really in Heaven, it’d be on the news. All big events were on the evening news, and what could be bigger than the death of my cousin?
But there was never any story. I thought maybe they needed to interview people first. So every time the doorbell rang, I expected a news crew. They never came.
But Aunt Gail did.
I was coming down the stairs for a snack, when I heard Mommy talking in a quiet voice in the dining room. I heard Aunt Gail and thought instantly she’d come to tell us the truth. Tiffany wasn’t in Heaven. Of course, she wasn’t that’s why no reporters came. That’s why it hadn’t been on the news. It never happened.
I ran into the dining room and called to my favorite aunt. Mommy gave me a worried, warning look, but I ignored it. Aunt Gail always laughed; she always smiled and was loud and fun.
But the woman in front of me was none of those things. She stood and turned to look at me. She looked about a hundred years older and she was crying. Her ever-present blue eye shadow wasn’t there. I’d never seen her without make-up. She stared at me for a moment before grabbing a hold of me and pulling me close. She hugged me tightly and cried.
I didn’t know what to do, I stared at Mommy from over Aunt Gail’s shoulder, but she was no help. She too was crying and looked as helpless as I felt. I never noticed how very thin Aunt Gail was, how small. For the first time I saw I was nearly her size. But she was so tiny, how could I have not noticed that before?
I’d never seen an adult so sad. She mumbled things in my ear, but I couldn’t understand her through her sobs. I wanted to cry out in desperation but I couldn’t breathe, she was squeezing me too tight.
Mommy finally pulled her off of me and I stood frozen, rooted to the spot. Mommy held this woman, who I didn’t recognize, who I wouldn’t recognize ever again. I didn’t need Mommy to tell me twice, however, when she gestured to me to leave from over Aunt Gail’s shoulder. Once my legs regained their ability to move, I ran up the stairs and into Jared’s room to warn him not to go down the stairs.
I stayed in my room the rest of the day, even after Aunt Gail left. I stayed in, trying and failing to erase the sight of Aunt Gail broken and sobbing from my mind.
When the day of Tiffany’s funeral came, I demanded to go. Jimmy was going, I thought I deserved to go as well. But Mommy refused, saying it wasn’t the place for children. I didn’t care though. I know Tiffany would be there, and that’s all that mattered to me.
But Mommy and Daddy and Jimmy left without me, leaving Jared and I with our Grandmother. I sulked in my room, not knowing what to do. I had always heard funerals were for saying good-bye. If I didn’t go, did that mean I could never say good-bye to Tiffany? And if I didn’t say goodbye, did that mean she’d always be around?
Isn’t that what Mommy had said, that Tiffany would always be in my heart? I liked the idea, but even at seven years old I knew that having her be alive would be a much better deal. I was very mad at God.
I asked Mommy if Tiffany was really in Heaven. She told me all God’s children go to Heaven. I know she thought that that was comforting to me. But it wasn’t. I knew in order to get to Heaven, you had to die first. And I simply didn’t like the idea of Tiffany being dead.
Mommy avoided using the word ‘dead’. She would say ‘passed on’ or ‘gone’ or ‘in Heaven’ or ‘with the angels’. I suppose it’s a hard concept for anyone to think of a nine-year-old girl as dead.
Even now I find it hard to think about. I don’t think I’ll ever come to grips with the reality of the situation. I suppose that when it comes to Tiffany, I’ll always see myself as a seven-year-old waiting for her friend to come back.
The End