Page 9 of Under The Cherry Blossoms
“You snore,” he says quietly. Before I can respond, Ms. O’Brien is addressing thegroup.
“Okay, kids, you will be working in pairs today to complete your worksheets. Stay with the group and make sure you are always within sight of a teacher or chaperone. We have two hours and to make this easy your partner will be whoever you are sitting next to. Right, file out in an orderly fashion and collect your worksheet from Mr.Simmons.”
My head is spinning. I can’t believe I have to spend the next couple of hours playing nice with this stranger. He stands up and heads to the front of the bus and I reluctantly follow him. Five minutes later we have collected our paperwork and are standing at the entrance as students mill around laughing and shouting, enjoying themselves as if they don’t have a care in the world. Meanwhile my broken heart has created an intense ache in my chest that I can’t imagine ever goingaway.
“I’mMack.”
Looking up at my partner I try to give him a smile but I know it comes out more like a grimace. I also can’t bring myself to care. “Skylah,” I replyshortly.
“Well, Skylah, you look about as happy as I am to be here, so what do you say we get this over with as quickly as possible so we can go back to dwelling on our own misery like good teenagersshould?”
For the first time in twenty-four hours I feel a small smile grace my lips. “That sounds like an excellent plan. Where do westart?”
“Let’s head this way,” he replies, pointing straight ahead. “I think the worksheet follows the path, so we should find everything we need pretty quickly.” I nod my head in agreement. I’m all for getting this done as quick aspossible.
We spend the next hour speeding through the worksheet while everyone else meanders all over the place, taking their time and enjoying their freedom from the confines of the school walls. Mack has proven to be a bit of a brainiac, and I have to admit, I’m curious as to why I’ve never seen himbefore.
We come upon Cherry Esplanade and in unspoken agreement we sit down under the beautiful blooming cherry blossom trees and fall into an easy silence. We’re sitting right next to each other, so close that our hands are nearly touching and my heart picks up speed. Inwardly, I curse myself for this reaction. If last night taught me anything, it’s that love and relationships are a waste of time and will only end in pain. While the last hour has been a distraction, my thoughts now return to the events of the previous night. So, in a desperate attempt to deflect my attention, I reach out to Mack, hoping that hearing about his silly overblown teenage angst will do thejob.
“So, why are you so miserable then?” Iask.
Mack turns and looks me directly in the eye, assessing me, as if deciding whether I’m worthy of hearing his news. I have to suppress an eye roll. Please, as if I really care about whatever petty bullshit he has goingon.
After pausing for a beat, Mack looks away and gazes up at the flowering branches aboveus.
“My mom died.” And with those three words, my problems fade into insignificantoblivion.
My silence feels deafening as I run through a million things I could say, all the while knowing nothing could ever possiblyhelp.
“You don’t have to say anything. I know you’re trying to think of the perfect thing, it’s what everyone does. Then they spew some cliché bullshit and I have to pretend to be grateful. Silence is better.” His eyes remain fixed upward, but from my position I can see the watery sheen they take on and my heart breaks a little for this boy who has lost more than even I couldimagine.
“Do you want to talk about it? You’re right, I have no idea what to say, there’s nothing Icansay that will help, but I canlisten.”
He remains silent and I take that as my answer. I should probably get up and leave him alone, give him some space, but I just can’t bring myself to leave him. So, I sit there and let the hum of the birds above sootheus.
“I’m so fucking angry. I know I shouldn’t be, I should be sad and lost, but all I feel is anger.” As Mack opens up I inch my pinky finger toward his and link them, offering him my support in the only way I knowhow.
“It was cancer. By the time they discovered it, it was stage four and terminal. She didn’t even have a chance and she was gone six months later. I have no idea why I’m mad at her, but I am. I’m so mad she’s gone; that she left me.” Mack chokes up and I feel my own throat closing up insympathy.
“My dad is completely lost. He just kind of wanders around, existing, doing his best to get through the day. At night I hear him cry, sobbing in his bedroom, and I want to help him somehow but I can’t. Then I get angry at him too. Why is he hiding how upset he is? It makes me feel like I have to as well, like I can’t let him know how out of control I feel. I’m trying to keep it together but I just…” as his voice trails off I glance over and see a tearescape.
“What was she like?” Iask.
“My mom? She was… amazing. Funny, so fucking funny. Compassionate. Kind. She treated everyone like family. She would have done anything for anyone.” He lowers his head to his knees. “It’s so fuckingunfair.”
“She soundsincredible.”
His lips lift slightly at my remark. “She was thebest.”
Taking a deep breath, I consider my next words carefully. “You have every right to be angry, Mack. But don’t let your mother’s death define you. That would be the easy thing to do. Let herlifeinspire you. Live your life in a way that makes her memory shine.” I shut my mouth and pray that I haven’t overstepped. He lowers his head to his knees so I can no longer see his face, but his shoulders shake slightly and in an effort to offer him some sort of comfort I lean against him, placing my head against his arm and rubbing small circles on his back with my lefthand.
We sit this way for what feels like an eternity until Mack has gathered himself. Looking across at me, he questions, “So, what happened to you, why are you sosad?”
I try to figure out how to answer him. After his revelations, my situation doesn’t seem so important. Despite what happened last night, both my parents are alive and well. I can call either of them up and see them whenever I want. Honestly, I’m feeling like a drama queen right about now. I mean this is 2003, people’s parents’ divorce all the time,right?
“My parents told me last night that they’re getting a divorce.” I look at him almost apologetically and cringe at how unimportant that sounds after what he toldme.
“Fuck. That sucks, I’m sorry.” And his eyes tell me that heissorry. That despite everything he’s going through, he has the empathy to feel badly for me. The thought crosses my mind that he’s more like his mother than he thinks heis.
