Page 17 of Somewhere Without You
Thechainonmybike snapped halfway up the hill. It was an old bike, one Mom had picked up from the local Goodwill about a year ago. The pink spokes between the tires had faded over time, and the rubber grips—once white, were now torn and worn down. My hands slipped over them as I huffed up the hill toward our neighborhood.
We didn’t live far from the school, a few blocks at most.Normally, Kat and I would ride home together, but today she stayed behind to audition for the lead role of Dorothy inThe Wizard of Oz.
At six years old, Iwasn’tallowedto walk home alone. Momwasgoing to be so upset when I showed up without Kat.
Itwasfall in southern Michigan, and the rainwascoming down in sheets from angry gray clouds. Bare trees lined the sidewalk, their fallen leaves scattered across the wet pavement, leaving a trail of colorful autumn confetti behind them.
I pocketed a few. Mom’s birthdaywascoming up, and I figured Icoulduse them to make her a card.MaybeKatcouldbake a chocolate cake to go with it.
Our house sat at the bottom of the hill, squeezed between two other homes near the end of the road. Itwasn’treallyours—we rented, but Mom promised itwasonly temporary. She saidthatevery time we moved.
BeforeIwasborn, Mom and Kathadlivedsomewhere in Florida.Eventhoughmy sisterwasstill little when Dad left, some of her earliest memorieswereof the three of them. Dad would take her fishing off the dock, and Mom alwayssmelledlike sunshine.
ThenI came along and ruined everything.
She never said it, but IknewKatherine blamed me for dad leaving. At night, when she thought Iwassleeping,I’dhearher whispering wishes on stars for him to come home, and to take me instead.
I never met him, but Isawhis face in mine every day. Our eyeswerethe same flecked copper, our noses bothsharplycurved. I couldn’t blame Katherine for resenting me.
I turned onto Wildwood Loop, out of breath as I pushed my bike down the sloping hill and into our cracked driveway. Mom’s gold Taurus gleamed in the rain, its rustbarelyhidden by a coat of wax.
“Mom?”I yelled over the blare of the TV. Montel Williams’ voice crackled through the speakers. I dumped my backpack by the recliner and grabbed the remote, shutting it off as Sylvia Brown walked onto the stage.
“Mom?”I tried again. Silence. Mom worked the night shift at Pete’s Coney, so itwasn’tunusual for her to be asleep at this time of day. I called her name once more as I shuffled into her room—only to find it empty. “Mom, I’m home! Kat said I didn’t have to wait for her.”
Still no answer.Maybeshe’dgoneout looking for me.
A soft meow drifted down the hallway, followed by the faint sound of scratching. I stopped in front of the bathroom door as Sushi, our cat, slid her white paw through the crack.
“Mom?”I called out, pushing the door open. Sushi bolted between my legs as I peeked inside.
There, lying in the tub with her auburn hair spread out around her like a halo,wasmy mother.
“Where’s Mom?”Katherine asked when she got home an hour later.
I took the last Dunkaroo, scraping it along the edges of the container, licking up the sugary white icing at the bottom.“Taking a bath,”I said, wiping my fingers clean.
Kat twisted her head, glancing down the silent hallway.
“Don’t bother her,”I whined, turning in my seat as Katherine started toward the hall.“She’s sleeping.”
My sister narrowed her eyes. “I thought you said shewastaking a bath?”
“She is,”I replied.“She’s taking a nap in the tub.”
Ifyou asked me to remember thetasteofthatDunkaroo, I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell you the name of the neighbor who sat with us after Kat called the police, or how long it took for them to arrive.
ButIcould tellyouexactlywhat Katherine’s scream sounded like. How it scratched at the back of her throat, full of choked terror, as she fought to pull our mother from the water.
Icould tellyou the shapes of the distorted shadows thrown by the police lights flooding through the living room windows, staining the walls in an eerie glow of red and blue.
I couldeventell you what Ihadfor dinnerthatnight as we waited for Gran to arrive. A four-piece chicken nugget Happy Meal with chocolate milk and a small fry. I remember because Momcouldnever afford fast food, and Iwasexcitedabout the toy inside.
Katherine’s handwasheavy in mine as wewereledout of the house, the flashing lights reflecting in herwide, vacant eyes.
“What’s going to happen to us?”I asked as we settled into the back of a waiting police car.
By now, the neighborhoodhadgatheredto gawk. Katherine’s lower lip trembled as she sucked in a shaky breath.Inthatmoment, the weight of my future fell onto the shoulders of a ten-year-old girl.
