That One Time after Swimming Practice

That One Time after Swimming Practice

You had just finished swimming practice. You weren’t feeling bad; in fact you were feeling pretty good. Swimming practice had gone well and you had finally nailed the turn at the end of the butterfly. Your mom had come pick you up and your sister decided to come for the ride.
Your mom wasn’t smiling and was hurrying you to come, saying that you had taken way to long to get changed. You didn’t see the point in rushing but didn’t argue, not wanting to stress her out even more. Your mom wasn’t really angry with you, you knew that. Ever since Opa had gone into the hospital, she had been on a short fuse.
You were just walking out of the building when she got a phone call. You remember vividly how she stopped in front of All Sports, the gym that was right next to the swimming pool. Her right hand was clutching the side of her head and she seemed almost hysterical. She was nearly shouting into the phone and her eyes were turning red and wet. Her shoulders were hunched as if she was trying to protect herself from what ever blow she was receiving.
You moved to hold the arm that was clutching her hair, trying to figure out what was going on while at the same time offering her support. Your sister was holding back but you couldn’t blame her. She was only 5 after all. She had never seen Mama like that and was probably scared.
From the corner of your eyes you see a mother approach, worried. She asked your mom what was wrong but your mom just mumbled something, took your sister hand and started jogging. You were shocked but didn’t think as you followed her.
Stepping to the front seat, you didn’t think your Mama should be driving with the tears streaming from her eyes but you didn’t comment. It wasn’t like you could drive, you were only 9 and you had to get home. You didn’t know what was happening but all you knew what that you had to get home as fast as you could.
The next half hour passed in a daze. You Mama had sped home and gone in the house shouting that you had to make a bag for you and your sister. Still confused, you grabbed your sisters hand and closed the front door. Ignoring the crashes in the living room, your Mama’s yelling and your sisters frightened questions, you took her hand again and walked up the stairs. Within 10 minutes you had a bag for your sister and another for your self with everything that you would need. You didn’t know how long you would be going or where you were going so you hoped you had packed enough.
Before you knew it, you were in the car and you just let your mother be, looking out the window. Glancing back briefly, you noticed your sister was asleep. Then your Mama started talking, softly so as to not wake up your sister. You still heard every word.
The phone call had come from the hospital. One hour. They gave Opa one more hour. But you lived two hours away and it always took longer if you still have to pack. Your Mama’s eyes had watered again but she was holding in. Your eyes stayed dry, knowing that if you broke down, so would she.
Soon enough you were at the hospital. The white, sterile hospital. You rushed through the halls, following your mother. Your aunt met you and shook her head. Your Mama started sobbing but still had enough control that she told you you could come.          
You wanted to see your Opa one more time; you didn’t care when or how or with what circumstances. But you didn’t argue, simply took your sister small hand again. Sitting down, you took a random magazine and started flipping, letting her see. She asked you what was wrong, why was Mama crying. Your eyes filled up and you tried to explain it too her. She didn’t get it. You didn’t expect her too but she must have noticed something because she leaned against you and you let her.
The rest of the night past in a blur. You remember hugging your Oma, your aunts and uncles and lastly your Mama. That night, dinner was spent in complete silence, silence so harsh you had trouble breathing.
The next morning you were driving back because despite everything you still had school and a field trip no less. In class you almost cried but stopped. On the bike field trip you almost sob but didn’t.
The night, you held your Mama while she sobbed. Your Papa was trying to get home but he still had work. He told you he’d be there for the funeral.
4 days later, you were dressed in black and at the morgue. They wouldn’t let you see Opa. The last time you saw him you hadn’t realized that it would be the last time you would see him and you started to make a fuse but one look at your Mama’s face quieted you.
You were sitting in the front, right in the middle. The casket was closed and flowers covered it. You cousin was trying to read a poem but she started crying in response to the sobs that sounded through the air. Heavy, gut wrenching sobs that had started to hurt the people who heard it, not only the person emitting them. You Papa tried to pull you closer and shush you but you couldn’t stop. You had broken.