The car seemed to drive itself. It arrived in front of my house from its own memory. It had to be at least ten o’clock; usually everyone had gone to bed by now. My father was notorious for falling asleep in front of the TV. long before the evening news game on, but I could still see all the lights inside the house glowing. The dog had heard me pull up and was whining at the door. Even though I stalled as long as I could, my presence was known. I couldn’t delay going in any longer. They all knew I was home.
Checking the car mirrors one more time, I tried to make myself as presentable as possible. I didn’t want anything to give me away. This was the act that mattered.
I opened the door to the house and waited for a response. His voice echoes in my head, “Hon, is that you? Hey, I am really sorry I couldn’t make it, but I got sick. You know how it is. You understand.” By now I had walked the few steps to join him in the living room. My father was sitting in his big lazy-boy recliner, a thirty two ounce cup in his hand and twenty-two year old brother was lying on the floor at his feet with his girlfriend. My step-mother came around the corner from the kitchen with a sandwich in her hand, “Do you want one?” she asked.
“No.”
“So how was it?” he asked as he took a bite of his sandwich, the sound of crisp lettuce cutting through the air as tomato seeds dripped onto his plate.
“Fine. The most interesting graduation I have ever attended.”
That answer seemed to satisfy everyone, since they all seemed to turn back to whatever they were doing before I came in, so I left it at that and turned and walked to my room and locked myself inside. No hugs, no presents, no congratulations, just a sandwich and a poor excuse. It is not as if my father had some kind of life threatening disease.
“You know how it is. You understand.” No. Obviously I do not. What could they possibly have been thinking? Even if my father was sick, where were the rest of them, my mother, my step-mother, my step-brother, my grandparents who lived less than a mile away – ANY of them? If he was so sick, where had he been all day? Where was he when I left for the ceremony? Why hadn’t anyone mentioned it all day? Why was he still awake, in the living room, eating a sandwich and watching a basketball game? I might have been able to accept it all, if only their excuse seemed even a little believable. A sick person enough to miss their only daughters only high school graduation just isn’t gone all day and then up with all the lights on at ten o’clock at night eating sandwiches in a room full of people watching basketball. Whatever. I guess I understand.
I guess they bought my superior job as an actress, since no one bothered to come to my room to pursue the issue any further. I can’t help but wonder how they couldn’t think anything was wrong. What senior, only hours after graduating, goes home and goes to bed on the single biggest night of their life? The only thing seniors talk about for the month before graduation is how big the party that night is going to be. They either didn’t care enough to even give it a second thought or just thought I was a big enough of a social reject that I just had no social life, and since I was sitting in my room at home, alone, I guess they would have been right.
I was going to have my own private party. I grabbed the bottle of pills out of my pocket. They had been with me the whole time. I sat on my bed at stared at them. Pills are inanimate objects. They had no feelings or memory. They had no clue what had gone on that day and they never would – ironically, nor would anyone else. Their lives would go on unchanged, yet mine changed forever. With each step I had taken to make it through the day I had gained an immeasurable amount of strength. Unfortunately, with each bit of strength I gained, I lost a part of myself. Sitting on the bed I was nothing more than a hollow shell of a human being. I could no longer feel anything. I couldn’t feel the weight of my body on the bed or weight of my clothes on my body or the weight of the bottle in my hand. I could no longer hear the rain outside or the TV in the other room. The only thing I felt was numb. It was like an out of body experience, watching my hand undo the lid on the bottle and lifting the bottle to my mouth gagging as I tried to gulp down the lumps in my throat.
Now what? Now what will happen? Will it hurt? Who cares – nothing can hurt anymore. The numbness gave way to a warm tingling. I could feel the pull as my spirit felt the release that it longed for. I was floating in the light. When I looked back, I could see my shell lying on the floor. I wonder how long it will take until the realize I am gone.
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