Free Waiting by Carol Lynch Williams

mother does when she leaves the house anymore.
“She needs to be alone.”
I don’t know this, either.
But
I cannot bear the thought of my mother ignoring me as we try to give her a ride. I can’t hardly think it now.
I saw the look on her face when she recognized me.
I saw it.

 
I don’t let Taylor open my door.
He hasn’t even turned off the ignition and I have my foot out, ready to go.
 
I jump out of the car and run, holding my clothes in one hand—keeping Taylor’s shorts pulled up with the other—to the front door. The porch light is on and I run to that. I hear the car whine as it backs up. I splash through a puddle. Every step I take, every one, builds a rage inside me.
 
     
When I reach the porch, I slip on the wet wood, almost falling. Then I throw the door open so hard that it bounces on the wall.
 
“Hey, hey, hey,” Daddy says, appearing from the back of the house. Then, “Oh,” when he sees me.
Like he doesn’t know I live here.
Like he’s surprised I showed up.
Has he forgotten me already?
I was only gone one night in all these months.
Once!
And then this day. This day when he didn’t check on me.
This day when I was gone after a night away.
     
My mouth opens. The words come out. I don’t even know what they are till I hear them in the air around us.
 
“ I didn’t leave forever.”
Daddy pauses. His face goes slack, like our separateness was holding it up.
 
     
“I know that, honey,” Daddy says after a few seconds. He reaches for me, but he doesn’t try that hard, and when his hand misses mine, he just lets it dangle at his side.
“But she doesn’t,” I whisper.
“It’s hard for her, London.”
I tilt my head. Look at him more closely. Does he know what he just said? Did that really come out of his mouth?
“It’s hard for all of us. All of us.”
     
“She was his mother , London. You’ll understand when you’re a mother yourself.”
“She’s my mother too,” I say, so worn out my mouth might never work again.
Then I head to bed.

 
If Zachy’s death should be hard on anyone, it’s me.
Yes! All of us! I admit, all of us. Everyone who knew him.
I’d never take anyone’s sadness and keep it as my own. I can hardly hold what I carry now.
But his going is hard on me.
     
 
     
Me!

 
I hear her come in later. Much later.
I hear the low mumble of my father’s voice.
I hear her speaking, trying to keep calm. Trying to keep her voice low.
There’s silence for a bit. Then my father’s voice. The door to their bedroom opens and closes.
 
I wait for my mom. Wait for her to come talk to me.
I’m lying in bed, all my muscles so tense that I wonder if I’ll get a headache.
I’ll forgive her for ignoring me.
I will. She doesn’t even have to apologize.
If she comes in. Just steps in and says my name, she’s forgiven.
     
She could even yell and I’d take her back.
She could yell for me leaving her on the roadside.
She could yell for me opening the blinds.
     
I don’t care.
     
I hear footsteps in the hall.
I hear breathing. It’s Mom, right?
I hear her light step move past my room, past my open door, past me, and on down the hall to Zach’s room.

 
I used to be alive too. Really alive.
We all did.

 
Thump thump thump thump thump.
Thump thump thump thump thump.
     
Thump thump thump.
     
Thump thump thump.
     
Thump thump.
     
Thump.
     
Thump.
     
 
     
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.

 
I wake from my own screaming.
Heart pounding.
Hands sweating.
     
“Zach!”
     
Daddy’s at my door before I can make my eyes open.
I’m crying.
Shaking.
Afraid.
Poisoned from the nightmare.
     
“You okay?” he says.
     
I nod.
Find my voice. “Yes.”
Let my eyes open just a bit.
     
Daddy stands there, one step away from being in my room. His hand rests on the wall, and he leans toward me. Doesn’t walk inside. “Well, all right then.”
     
I’m cold like snow.
I need him to hug me, but he doesn’t walk into the room.
Just stands there. Leaning. And lets me