Getting to know her

“Come.”  Dad woke me with a strange, rough whisper.  His eyes were too serious, his touch, too gentle.  It was Saturday morning and judging by the light hiding behind my curtains, I was late for my track meet at school.
“Come!” Dad demanded again in his strange, almost angry whisper and I forced myself out of bed.  I was barely awake, still unsteady on my feet as I followed him to his room.  Something was wrong.  The house was too quiet.

Their bed was neatly made, except for the decorative pillows still stacked on the floor.  The soft white curtains were tied back and bright sunlight was streaming happily into the room.  Lily was sitting on the edge of the bed looking scared.  Mom’s closet was open and empty, except for her old grey winters coat hanging lonely in the big space.
I didn’t need to open dad’s closet, I knew all his clothes were still there, but I opened it anyway.  His closet was neatly organized, his shirts folded and stacked precisely.  His socks were lined in even rows and the anti-tobacco spray was standing in its honored spot in front of his undershirts, as always.
Dad looked old, defeated as he stared at me.  The way he leaned against the wall made his shoulders appear smaller. 

Mom left us.
She left in the middle of the night, while we were soundly asleep.
She took all her clothes.
She left nothing.
No note.
No explanation.

I searched everywhere for some clarification.  Lily was crying as her eyes followed me and I could not bear to listen to her.  Her weeping annoyed me.  She’s only 10 and I know I should comfort her, but I am infuriated by her weakness.  Mom chose to leave us! 
Dad took Lily by the hand, closed mom’s deserted closet and left me alone in the sad, unfamiliar room where the happy sunlight was warming everything but me.
I knew I had to get dressed but my mind felt numb and I needed to talk to dad first.  He was in the kitchen with Lily, making toast.  I have never seen him cook before and he seemed out of place and too big for our small kitchen.  Lily was sitting by the naked table staring at her hands.  I thought about getting the pretty blue tablecloth with the big yellow flowers, but the bare wood seemed more appropriate for today.  I opened the refrigerator to get some butter and cheese.  I slide the butter over to Lily and smiled at her.  She looked pale and withdrawn and I realized she is scared, she needs a mom.
I reached in front of dad to open the drawer for a knife for Lily.  Dad frowned at me as he took a step back to make room for the drawer. I tried to keep my voice light, “Maybe we should call Gran, she might know where mom went?”
Dad’s frown deepened and he pushed the drawer close.  He turned away from me but I already saw the hurt in his eyes and the eccentric redness spreading down his neck.
The toast burned and he smashed the blue toaster against the wall.  It fell over and black toast and crumbs spilled out. 
“Don’t call Gran!” he said as he walked out of the kitchen.  The redness on his face deepened into a darker red and I felt like I slapped him. 

He is the captain of this small town’s rugby team.
He is loved by everybody.
He is always laughing.
He never gets mad.
He never walks away.

He is big and strong but he looks broken now, as he walked away.  I know he is hurting and I wanted to run after him, but Lily started to cry again.
The smell of burnt toast is overwhelming.  I cleaned it up and put two fresh slices of bread into the toaster, and lowered the setting.  Lily looked at me with her big eyes filled with questions.  I ruffled her hair and put the plate with two pieces of dry toast in front of her.
“Everything will be fine.  We just have to give it some time.”  She wasn't convinced.  She knew I didn't have the answers and it made me feel completely inadequate as her older sister.  I felt trapped in Lily’s silence and the smell of the burnt toast is making it hard to breath.  I need to get away and I feel like running.  I should get dressed but instead I pull dads old sweater, hanging behind the door, over my head.

“Eat your toast.” I said softly to Lily as I opened the creaky back door and stepped into the cool fresh morning air.  There is no cheese or jelly on the table and I wanted to get her some orange juice to drink, but the pull of the crisp morning air is stronger and I am already on my way.  I shut the door softly and head for deserted house neighboring our back yard.  As I walked through the neglected property I suddenly felt lost and unloved. 

How could she just leave us, without even a word?  Ugly weeds were scattered over this once beautiful lawn.  Patches of dry grass discolored the green landscape and the once colorful perennials now stooped over in crisp dry twigs.  I sat down on the stairs of this abandoned house, my fingers stripping the peeling paint into small flurries.

I can't remember the last time she said I love you to me, in fact I can't remember her ever saying those words...  My heart hurts and for the first time I understand what heartache is.  I always thought a boy would be the cause of my first heartache.  I look up to our own house and through the clear window, I see Lilly still sitting alone by the table, her toast still untouched.  I hear all the I love you's whispered back and forth between her and mom and I realized my heart is aching but her heart is broken.
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