THE AFTERMATH
The doorbell rang at 6:30AM.
I had brownies baking in the oven, was in the process of capping a boiled egg and was irritated at the thought of attending to someone who had the audacity to visit at such an ungodly hour. I pushed my chair back and threw the serviette, with some force mind you, onto the shiny wood of the kitchen table.
There was nobody at the door.
I looked around; left and right, but the garden path and the street beyond were desolate.
Empty and quiet.
Fortunately, the eeriness was arrested by the tinkle of a light drizzle that quickly built to a downpour before I returned to my cold breakfast.
I sighed, feeling the weight of my irritation.
Before I could tuck in, my phone vibrated and rang in my pocket. I had to get up off my comfortable chair and pull the thing out of my pocket.
But, as I pressed the cell to my ear, my third sense alerted me; I knew that there would be no reply.
My kitchen window, which was a remarkable wall-to-wall, room-sized affair usually offered a view of the garden beyond, but it was obscured by huge drops of water that clung in stubborn suspension on the pane before forging meandering streams in random, but seemingly organized patterns to meet in a pool on the windowsill below. It was fascinating; rain rendered the scene opaque. My garden, from my vantage point, was totally lost as if it no longer existed and I remained alone in a world without beauty.
A nagging feeling of deja vu assailed my senses: I’d seen the scene that the rain conjured on the window pane before. I knew that if I sidled up close, I’d be able to discern all the details.
Youth echoed its radiant energy in vibrant guffaws and giggles that tinkled at various volumes as I passed on my way to my familiar seat at the back of the bus. A seat next to Jenna, my best friend in all the world.
“Did you get it?” she whispered in my ear. Goosebumps gathered under her warm breath. I shivered and turned to hug her.
She hugged me back.
“Yes!” I returned, triumph lacing my voice and making it sound a little too harsh in the confines of the vehicle.
“No need to shout, girls, you’re right next to each other after all.” Mrs. Goat’s glasses slipped down her nose in a way that reinforced her authority and we chimed in unison, “Yes, Mam.”
Tendrils of mist caressed the windows, rising up the frames like a slow, steady tide.
“Buckle up lasses, we’re on our way despite the awful fog.” The driver let out a blast over the speaker-wire, which reverberated down the aisle making us all sit up and take notice of the swirling mist outside.
“Nasty day,” I punctuated the driver’s announcement.
“Sure it is, but at least we’re moving. Really, Shaun, things could be much worse considering.”
Of course, as usual, Jenna was right. The weather had been horrible for the past month with determined persistence. I sighed and leaned back in my seat, feeling the comforting embrace of friendship and capable authority.
The bus jolted to a start and we all cheered; the chorus of young voices seemed to act as an incentive because our speed surged and we sped through the mist with the countryside blurring into dappled shades of greens and browns; indistinct shapes shrouded in semi-transparent white.
“Sometimes it’s such a pain that school’s so far out of town, don’t you think?” Jenna sighed, “Hey, are you even listening to me?” I felt her nudge my shoulder so I turned towards her, my hands still buried in my backpack, searching for my lunch bag. “Do you want brownies or not?” Jenna nodded. A Cheshire grin lit up her eyes and animated her freckles which seemed to have a life of their own every time she put on that particular grin. The grin made me realize how much I adored my best friend.
I handed over the brownie and Jenna, now facing the window exclaimed, “Isn’t that your…?” Her mouth was agape, crumbs on her lips. She yanked the lapel of my blazer to force me over; to force me to see her view.
Mist had given way to a steady drizzle. Water coursed across the window, highlighting the scene, overlaid in a weird ribbon-like pattern. For me, there was no mistaking the VW Polo or the driver’s mop of curly red hair.
“Isn’t that your dad?” Jenna’s sharp intake of breath did little to cover her revelation, “but, that’s…that’s not your mom! Is it?” she covered her mouth with her hand, but it was out. Curious young heads craned, rummaging and scuffling ensued, a crowd surged.
“Jenna!” Mrs Goat cried in horror. “How could you?” I cried in punctuation.
There for all to see was my father lavisciously kissing a blonde woman. As the crowd gawked, both occupants of the car turned; their faces were clear. There was no doubt. To me, there was no doubt because of Jenna; Jenna and her big mouth.
I was up and off in a moment. I felt my face flame with hot embarrassment. I ran to the head of the vehicle, pushing my way through the crowd with force. I begged the driver to pop the doors and he did it without my badgering.
In the street, on the asphalt I felt disoriented. I looked up at Jenna’s face streaming with tears, which traversed her cheeks. Her face was plastered against the glass.
My father and our car, gone.
I ran home, blind with tears. I ran without realizing that my feet knew the way.
I burst into my kitchen wild with a turmoil of emotions stirring my selfishness.
“Whaaa…?” My mother’s eyes were orbs of surprise.
“It’s dad…It was dad and his girlfriend!”
I heaved my backpack to the floor. Balled my fists and rolled them in my eyeballs with a determined bruising force.
“What’s this? Is it what I think it is?”
I opened my eyes. My mother held two tickets to the Oasis music concert up in front of my nose.
I would hate to know what my face looked like at that moment. I was busted, boughed and a witness to a family, broken.
School, for me, became a nightmare of stifled giggles, suppressed laughter and sidelong, curious glances.
But, I lived.
I survived without any of the enjoyment usually afforded to a young girl of my stature.
Jenna pleaded. I cut her off.
My father pleaded. My mother cut him off.
My grandmother tried to explain “mature life” to me, but, I cut her off.
The doorbell chimed. I knew!
I rushed to open my door, the premonition of coincidence fresh in my mind.
And there she was…
Freckles brown and gold on my doorstep.
“Shaun?”
“Yes,” I replied, joy surging.
“How did you find me?”
“I’d just flown in from Dubai and there was Sharon, you remember, Sharon from school?”
Jenna frowned and I wanted to hug her.
“Sharon said you’d moved back home to take care of things…of your mom’s estate. Obviously, I knew the address,” she sighed in a familiar way, “your neighbor was up on her porch. I called over the fence and begged for your number, but, I lost my nerve. I needed to see your face…”
“All these years,” I said, “and I have brownies baking in the oven.”
“Do you think you could buy us a couple of tickets to an Oasis concert?”