So It Was Said, So It Was True PW

She strung and hung the final line. She anxiously made the connection yet, the shimmer didn’t shine and the star of usual brightness was blacker than the hell she thought she was in. The darkness depressed her as did the whiteness of the winters passed. Actually, all winters collectively, evoked her grief. 1

The children were playing with used up, broken year old toys anticipating the arrival of newness as they were more appreciative of the artic ambience than their mother. Their shrieks and shrills had sharply increased, over the past two weeks. Usually, they were non-bothersome and she would delight them as she partook within the activities. However, her day of longness led her to exhaustion and an underlying emptiness that she could not readily explain, nagged her while capturing the attention that should have been focused on the dead strings, strung and hung. 2

Somberly, the test of in animation ensued. Three fourths through and a quarter past four, the door that the man that was painting her dreams walked out of, received the knock of quick, troubled and weighted raps. She inhaled, deeply - slowly to calm herself as the rapping continued, annoying her. She stood, allowing the strings now un-hung to chatter, falling freely into a darkened pile which she tripped on while attempting an easy hop over. She was determined to present the rapper with a greeting that would be unforgettable, as she had been building her skills of positive, optimistic views. She stood in front of the door, allowed the chilled handle to be warmed by her hand as she again inhaled deeply and smiled. The handle she twisted slowly while praying and muttering, “Please God, please let it be him” for she missed him terribly and the most recent conversation was of truths, emotion, love and a vision.3

With the opening of the door, there was a slight squeak which she knew was bothersome and had meant to repair but her moments did not allow her the time, now leaving her embarrassed. The images of solemn faces looked back at her as she pondered why they were there, considering her and Timothy were separated and they had not visited for several months. “Why, are George and Lani here? And why is Rachelle with them?” Lisa questioned herself. George and Lani, Timothy’s father and step mother had only visited her home one time within the past five years leaving this visit to be of strangeness. Her niece however, had lived with her off and on over the years. The three of them stood, crumbling with despair as Lisa again moved the door, encouraging the slight squeak to now over speak, the words being spoken on the other side of the screen door that held a storm window, drowning out the words.4

They began motioning to her to come outside but intermittently ceased their gesturing to rub their eyes which were seemingly irritated. Finally, Lisa moved through the entry way and positioned herself on the porch. The time of reality was only of moments, yet shoeless and coatless, the chill of Christmas Eve began to shock her; maybe it was the preparation she needed.5

George, a man of sixty and soft spoken syllables whom was also coatless looked into her eyes and boldly stated, “Timmy is dead.” Thankfully, Lisa of only thirty six years had not let go of the door that now was assisting to maintain her balance that was crumbling as those she had viewed just moments earlier. She searched for a distraction, desperately but George again spoke, bolder than before. “Lisa, Timmy is dead!” The words made no sensible logic as her memory began to fleet quickly between the news and the conversation exchanged sixteen hours before.6

Timothy and Lisa had been separated for eighteen months as recovery is an extremely selfish program. When the separation initially occurred, it was of Lisa’s urging as she could not allow the relapse, on a day to day basis effect the children. The day he left, she had provoked the departure as the ground was often shaky and she knew what it would take for him to leave. They had been to a concert the evening before, her mother tended to the youngest child and was expected to be collected the next morning. Timothy wasn’t feeling well and bartered with his angry wife to drive there and he would drive home, she agreed hastily. 7

The child of three, was delighted at the sight of his parents, he was ready to return home but, Timothy reneged on his agreement, claiming he still was not feeling well. Lisa knew that today, her deceased sister’s birthday was the day she must provoke an incident even though she knew she would be berated and bruised. As they arrived home, Timothy disappeared into the bathroom, a usually spot that he recently spent a substantial amount of time in. Lisa knew he had relapsed even though his hollering stated he hadn’t. He'd been so careful, so when it happened Lisa did not know what to do.8

While the bathroom was occupied, Lisa decided to have a cup of coffee as she had not allowed herself any before picking up the baby. At that moment, she knew how to provoke the departure. She grabbed the coffee pot, she stomped down the hallway entering the bedroom, she slowly poured the coffee into his tennis shoes. Having done this and now knowing the consequences, she ran out of the bedroom, down the hall to what she thought would her sanctuary, outside. For if she were outside, he would not dare touch her. She couldn’t have been more wrong; he grabbed her, drug her up the stairs into the house and encouraged her to meet one of the walls she had not been acquainted with yet. His anger, she had purposely provoked. It worked, he extended his rage, packed and left. 9

She often struggled with the decision she had made, as being a single parent of three children was rewarding yet exhaustive. She couldn’t recall the last time she fell into a state of restfulness, void of a ritualistic thirty minute mourning.10

She could hear George, Lani and Rachelle calling to her while collapsing upon the despised, green astro-turf that Timothy had laid on the porch top. She could also hear his voice and the words he had clearly spoken the evening before. “Lisa, I am trying my hardest everyday. I don’t want to use but I dream about it every night. I know you need money but I don’t have any and I wouldn’t give it to you if I did. And about the shoes, I deserved the two pairs that I bought”.11

Lisa knew she had attempted to assist him and make his recovery as successful as it could be but she couldn’t maintain the growing needs of the children on her salary alone anymore. She became very angry and tearful. She began to shout at him, “Damn it, Tim! our son needs diapers, I have no money for the day care bill and two shut-off notices came in the mail today and you’re out buying shoes”. 12

“I already told you Lisa, that I deserved new shoes and the bills are your problem. You know Lisa, I could die tomorrow”. She knew he was attempting to make a point that he could die tomorrow, leaving her to raise the children alone; he did, he died the next day.13