Reflection

      I just wanted someone to take me away. Somewhere far away. To a place where I was no longer Millie Quinn. To a place where I could be carefree and happy. To a place where broken hearts didn’t exist and smiles were the dress code. But of course, no one was going to rescue me from my personal Hell. This was my life and short of killing myself (which was out of the question), there was nothing I could do about it. I suppose you want to know why I want to escape my life and demand a refund. I realize that’s a stupid question because you wouldn’t be reading this if you didn’t. Well, it’s not pleasant but it’s the only place I can think of to begin my story.

    A month ago, I was a normal teenager. I was a junior in high school with oodles of friends. I had a great family including the best parents and a kid brother that was pretty terrific when he put his mind to it. I was even close to having my first boyfriend. This totally dreamy guy named Peter. I wasn’t brilliant but my grades were pretty good and I had a promising talent in writing. Stories, of course. I was born with a highly developed imagination and I was forever jotting down ideas and snippets of scenes that played out in my head. I wanted to be a writer so bad I could taste it. The next J.K. Rowling or C.S. Lewis. I wanted to create fantastic tales of far off places and magic and damsels who saved themselves from distress. But all that went away in an instant. All of it was gone so fast that it left me reeling. I was spending the night at home because I had a cold and my mom was paranoid about such things. Though to be honest, I didn’t really mind all that much. They were going to see a movie that my little brother Taylor had picked out. We often took turns picking out the movies we went to see. It was a family tradition and we did it once a month. Anyway, Taylor’s pick was something about a blind dog who saves a little girl from a burning building and becoming a hero or something like that. In any case, I didn’t really want to go so I was actually pretty grateful that the “sniffles” decided to grace me with their presence. It meant I could stay home, work on my stories and dream about my next encounter with Peter.

      I remember it all exactly. I was sitting on the couch watching a movie when the doorbell rang. I contemplated not answering it since it was past 10 and I was home all alone and in my pajamas. But I changed my mind and got up to see who it was. I opened the door and there was a cop standing on my porch. He was a young guy, not bad looking at all, but the look on his face kept me from trying to flirt with him. It was a look of dead seriousness and ….pity in dark eyes that seemed far too old for him. That look confused me. I started to feel the first pangs of fear.

“Hi.” I said wanting to be as far away from those eyes that could only mean something was wrong. I think I knew what he was going to say. I did. I already knew what he was going to tell me. I just needed it confirmed.

“Are you Emily Quinn,” he asked, his voice was cold and blunt.

“Yes.” Two could play that game and I kept my response just as cold as his.

“I’m sorry, miss, but there is no other way to say this. At 8:36 tonight, Benjamin and Shannon Quinn’s vehicle was hit head on by a young man who lost control of his vehicle. I’m sorry.” I could tell he was. The look on his handsome face told me he’d rather be anywhere but where he was at that moment. I wondered, briefly, how he got roped in to doing this. And then, because my brain had refused to accept what he’d just said to me, I fainted dead away.

When I woke a few moments later I was in the officer’s arms and he was putting me gently on the couch. I lay there dazed and more than a little dizzy while he spoke quietly into his….whatever they called it. A walkie talkie I guess.

“Miss, are you all right? Is there anything I can get you?” What an odd thing to say. Did he think that was the right thing to say? Though to be fair, was there ever a right thing to say? Probably not, so I guess I couldn’t fault him for his choice of words.

“Millie.” I said, marveling at the fact that my voice still worked when everything else seemed to slow down. The beating of my heart, the pulse in my neck, even breathing was a labored effort. I tried to comprehend what the man told me. My parents were dead. Taylor was dead. So why was I still alive? Why was my heart still beating when the reasons for its drum like existence were gone? I pinched myself hard and it hurt. It even gave me goose bumps which assured me I wasn’t dreaming.

“I’m sorry?” he frowned at me. My name wasn’t miss. It was Millie. I wanted him to be aware of the difference. I wasn’t going to let him make me just another face in a line of so many. Why it bothered me, I wasn’t sure.

“My name is Millie, not miss,” I whispered, my bottom lip quivering quite without my permission. I tried to stop. Honestly, I did. Because I didn’t want to cry in front of this man who so clearly wanted to be elsewhere. If not for my sake then at least for his.

“Millie, is there someone I can call for you? Do you have any relatives?” He asked gently with just a little more feeling in his voice.

“I- I- ….” And suddenly I couldn’t speak. My throat was clogged and my vision blurred so that the officer was now just a mesh of color. I lifted my hands to my face and turned away so he wouldn’t be able to see my face. And more importantly, so I wouldn’t see his. Oh, God! I didn’t realize a person could feel this much pain. I didn’t realize anything could hurt so bad. It was like I was being ripped right down the middle. And I knew it wouldn’t ever go away. How could it? My family wasn’t coming back and they’d taken my heart with them. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. The sobs I was trying to contain ripped free and it sounded like something was dying. Like I was dying. I didn’t care about the man next to me. I didn’t care that I was probably making his job the hardest in the world. All I wanted was to see Taylor and my mom and dad walk through that front door and tell me it was just some cruel joke. That everything was okay.

And then I felt the man’s hand touch my shoulder hesitantly. I ignored him. I was shaking uncontrollably.  The extent of my pain was far too great for me to handle alone and he seemed to sense that. He gently lifted me up and held me. Oddly enough, it helped. I stopped shaking at any rate. He rocked me gently and murmured words of comfort that made no sense but helped  me calm down. I laid my head down on his shoulder, taking comfort in the closeness of his body. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know him. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know me. He was giving me the only thing he could. And it was exactly what I needed.

We could have sat there for hours or it might have been as little as ten minutes. It didn’t matter. He gave me as much time as I needed. It was enough. I gathered my wits about me and sat up, looking up into his face. There was still pity in his eyes, but also a great deal of kindness and seeing it almost brought back the tears. But I swallowed them back and cleared my throat. “I have an aunt who lives in Maine.”

“Would you like me to call her for you,” he asked softly. I nodded.

“Will she come stay with you?” Again, I nodded. My dad’s only family was his older sister Lucy. My mom had no real family to speak of. Just a few distant aunts and uncles and maybe some cousins. But Lucy was very much part of our family. She called several times a week and made frequent visits to see us.  I wanted her to be here so much. She would make everything go away. She’d take care of everything. I was selfish enough to let her. Even though I knew that this going to be just as devastating to her as it was to me. But she lived in Maine, which even if she took a plane, was still several hours from New York City. We lived in the suburbs outside the city and La Guardia was the closest airport to speak of.

“She won’t be able to get here right away.” I whispered.

“That’s all right.  We can call a neighbor to come stay with you or I will. Either way you won’t be alone,” he promised. And I felt immensely grateful to him. I looked at his name tag. It read M. Waters. I suddenly wanted to know his name.

“What’s your name?”

“Matt Waters.” I nodded, satisfied. It made me feel better to have a name to go with the face. It wasn’t so impersonal now that we weren’t strangers.

“My neighbor Mrs. Lane will come stay with me. She’s my mom’s best friend. She lives next door. In the blue house.” Drained, I could do no more. I laid my head back down on his shoulder and closed my eyes. He waited a few minutes and then shifted as gently as he could and placed me back on the couch. He leaned down and whispered. “I’m going to go talk to your neighbor. I’ll be right back.” I nodded and watched him walk away. I hated myself for being so helpless. But what else could I do? In the space of just a few hours I became an orphan and my life was never going to be the same.

A few minutes later, I heard the rush of a robe and hurried steps. Mrs. Lane came into view and she dropped to her knees so I could see her face. It was filled with the horror of grief and worry. I felt the pinching sting of tears and my face crumbled as I sat up and threw myself into her arms. I sobbed so loudly that it hurt my own ears. But she didn’t seem to mind nor did Matt. Mrs. Lane just rocked me back and forth and ran her hands soothingly through my hair, just like my mom did when I was little and upset about something. I could hear her crying softly and that made it worse. I was uncontrollable. I kept crying out over and over, ”They’re gone. Mrs. Lane, they’re gone.” I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore. I cried until I fell asleep. Until the blessed blackness won and crept over me like a heavy quilt.

When I woke, I was in my bed and I felt bruised and beaten. My nose felt like someone had shoved cotton balls up it and I didn’t need to look to know that my eyes were puffy and swollen. There was no denying the horror of the night before. It was real. It happened. And I was never going to let anyone ever see me like that again. I was never going to lose it again. If I lost it again, I would never get it back…..whatever it was. As I climbed out of bed I realized someone must have carried me upstairs. Probably Matt the Cop. Mrs. Lane couldn’t have done it. I went into the bathroom and took care of business which included brushing my teeth. Grief was no excuse for bad breath.

I descended the stairs slowly listening for signs of life. There was a murmur in the direction of the kitchen so I headed there. Mrs. Lane was standing at the counter with a coffee mug in her hands. She was also fully dressed which meant she must have left at some point to go home and change. And then I saw a familiar red head sitting at the table with her head in her hands.

“Aunt Lucy!” I cried. Her head snapped up and she looked at me with tear filled eyes, her face ghostly pale against the dark red of her hair.. She leapt from the table and gathered me in her arms. I hugged her fiercely. I was so glad to see her. I was no longer alone. Whatever happened, I knew we’d face it together.

“Sweetheart, I am so sorry,” she murmured. I swallowed hard to gather myself and try not to cry again. I managed, but only barely. I pulled back to look my aunt in the face. She looked like I felt. She was pale with dark dark circles under eyes and she was shaky.

“I’m here now and I’m not going to leave you,” she promised. I believed her and immediately I felt like some of the weight was lifted from my shoulders. I nodded.

“Sue, will you help me with the funeral arrangements? I would do it myself but there is so much to be done. My head is spinning.”

“Of course. Anything you need.”

“People are going to want to pay their respects, but I don’t Millie to have to see anyone until she’s ready. I have to make some calls, including the school. I just- I have to-,” her voice broke and she shuddered, putting her hands over her face. My heart broke all over again. I felt sort of like humpty dumpty. No one was ever going to put me together again. Not all the kings’ horses and all the kings’ men. I wrapped my arms around my aunt and we held each other.

Sometime later, I struggled to eat the plate of food Mrs. Lane put in front of me. I didn’t even know what was on it. I just swallowed it as best I could. She was playing her role very well and wouldn’t let me leave the table until I’d satisfied her. Aunt Lucy was in my dad’s office doing what, I was sure I didn’t want to know. She’d also been very much correct when she said we’d have a surplus of visitors. Flowers and cards and homemade posters littered the front lawn and I was overwhelmed by the sheer love these people had for me and my family. It was enough to take my breath away. I sat up in my room and watched them come and go. None of them looked up to see me in the window. I saw my friends their arms full of wild flowers from the field behind our school, sobbing and placing the flowers on the doorstep. I saw random people light candles and hold hands as they cried. I felt detached from all this. Like I wasn’t part of it, like I died along with my family. I didn’t want to see my friends. I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want them to see me even though I knew I’d have to face them at some point.

“Millie, sweetheart, why don’t you come downstairs. There’s a boy named Peter here to see you,” Mrs. Lane told me. I flinched. Peter, my prospective new boyfriend was here to see me. Ordinarily I would have squealed in delight, like the worst sort of idiot teenage girl, and dashed down to see him. Now, it all seemed very stupid. I couldn’t even begin to fathom what I would say and I would just die if I cried in front of him. No, it was better if I stayed away. At least until I could control myself, not for my sake but for the people in my immediate vicinity. Fits of emotion made everyone uncomfortable.

“Make him go away, Mrs. Lane,” I whispered. I sat in the corner of my room with the lights off. I couldn’t leave my cocoon. Not even for dreamy Peter.

That night, after everyone left and it was just me and Aunt Lucy, I was unbelievably tired and achy and my chest hurt so I went to bed early. I don’t think I even said good night to Aunt Lucy. Some far way part of me was shouting at me to stop being so selfish but it sounded muffled and was therefore easily ignored. But sleep did not come as swiftly as I thought it would. I lay awake; my brain more alert than it had a right to be given the circumstances. Finally I got so restless that I just got up and left my room. I wandered down the hall to my parent’s room. I knew they wouldn’t be in there but the still childish part of me wanted to think they would be. Because I just couldn’t even begin to understand that they would never sleep in that bed again. I would never hear the quiet murmur of their voices in the night. I would never see my dad cuddle my mom close. I would never be able to climb in bed with them when I was scared or just in need of a warm hug. And my sweet little brother with his big blue eyes and moppy blond hair. I couldn’t accept that I would never see them again. It was so unfair. They were so good and it seemed impossible they would do something to deserve this; that I would do something to deserve this. I didn’t know what was worse. Knowing they were dead or having to live without them.

I put my hand on the handle but I couldn’t bring myself to open the door and find an empty bed. So I turned and headed downstairs. There was a light on in the living room. Aunt Lucy sat on the couch, staring at nothing in particular. It wasn’t until I was closer that I noticed her cheeks were wet. She cried silent tears; all the more heartbreaking because she was alone. She cried alone.

“Aunt Lucy?” She turned her head. She smiled softly at me and patted the spot next to her. I didn’t hesitate. We cuddled together and for a moment I could almost imagine that she was my mom.

“Millie, we have a lot of things to talk about, you and I,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“We don’t have to do anything right away but eventually I have to go back to Maine. My home is there and so is my job. I hate the idea of making you move but-“

“It’s ok.”

“It is?”

“I’m not going to throw a temper tantrum, don’t worry. I didn’t think you’d be able to move here,” I told her. Truthfully, I hated the idea of leaving the only home I’d ever known but on the scale of things I’d have to deal with moving was far from the largest.