Falling Leaves

Falling Leaves

You walk down the hallway. On the right hand side is your sister’s room. You stop and look at the closed door. Cautiously, you turn the knob and step inside. The room has a feeling of sterility, nothing is out of place. Her china dolls are in a straight line on her shelf, her bed is made, and not even a trace of dust has settled across the furniture, the floors. You frown. This isn’t right. Your sister was a slob. She would have hated it this way. You take a book from the shelf and toss it on the floor. You walk out of the room and shut the door.

On your way to school you run into your sister’s boyfriend. He comes over to talk to you, but you walk the other way. This is what you were told to do. “he took your sister to the party.” Your parents say. “He had been drinking when he drove her home.”

Your sister’s boyfriend begs you to turn around. “I need to talk to someone,” he says, “please come to my house after school today. My parents will be gone.” You resist, but then agree. You, too, need someone to talk to. It has been three weeks since your sister has been gone. Your parents have been in their own worlds. Worlds away from you.

You sit at your desk and watch the clock slowly tick. The teacher is giving a lecture, but you hear nothing. It has been that way since the accident. You begin to draw pictures in your notebook. Pictures of houses, and families…and sisters. A tear falls on the page and you quickly wipe it away. No one has seen you cry yet. No one ever will.

At the funeral everyone thought you were in shock. They couldn’t understand why you didn’t cry. But you had. They just didn’t know it. The didn’t see you the morning you found out. When you ran into the woods behind your house and screamed at the top of your lungs. They didn’t see you every night as you cried yourself to sleep, shaking violently and muffling your sobs with your pillow.

When the school day finally ends, you get your things and head down the street to your sister’s boyfriend’s house. You know the way well. You’ve gone with your sister many times. You take your time, kicking sticks out of the way as you go. You want to see him, to talk to him, but you are scared. In your mind, you know it wasn’t really his faultl You know he had been drinking a little, but you also know he didn’t mean to get in an accident. You know how your sister could be and you know that she made him drive her home that night. You were there.

Your sister’s boyfriend takes you into the living room. He offers you something to drink. Your mouth is stale, dry. But you refuse. Your sister’s boyfriend begins to tell you about the night of the accident. He tells you how much he misses your sister. How much he loved her and how much he blames himself. He tells you how sorry he is. He begins to cry. And then he puts his arms around you.

You are stiff. You keep your hands in your lap and your back rigid. You look straight ahead, but his warmth becomes comforting. You cautiously hug him back. You now understand why your sister loved him so much. You smell his skin, his hair, his breath. It reminds you of the way your sister smelled when she came home late at night. He continues to cry and then you cry too.

You push away a little, but he holds you tighter. “Don’t leave me,” he says, “I need you.” You look up at him and see how much he loved your sister. He begins to kiss you and you don’t resist. His mouth covers yours with complete softness. It is the first time since your sister died that you haven’t felt alone. He carefully takes your clothes off and then lays you down on the couch. His body feels so warm next to you, you never want to let him go. As he enters you, you both scream out. Your sister is alive within you. You are now thinking her thoughts, smiling her smile, feeling her pain as the truck is barreling into her side of the car. Into her. And then it is over, and she is dead again.

Your sister’s boyfriend lays on the couch silently. You look over at him and he reaches for your hand. You lay that way for awhile. Holding each other, helping each other. Until it is time to go. As you let go of his hand, your fingers slide out from between his, and both of you know that you will never speak to each other again. You get up and dress yourself. Without saying goodbye, you walk out the door. There is an autumn chill in the air as you walk to your house. You pull your coat up over your face and watch the falling leaves. Although they are dead, their colors are so vibrant and alive.

Your parents are sitting at the table eating dinner when you walk in. You walk past them and upstairs to your room. On your way, your pass your sister’s door. You open it and notice the book has been placed back on the shelf. You grab two this time, and throw them on each side of the room. You stop and look at the picture of your sister’s boyfriend on her shelf. You gently rub your fingers across the glass and smile. You go to your room, climb into bed and fall asleep.