When we reach the main street I looked up and saw your eyes glare back to see where the men went. You then dropped your arm and continued walking. Naturally I followed you. I asked what was wrong and you didn’t answer. I then thanked you and you turned on me and in an angry toned said,“why would you walk down an empty, dark street, on a Saturday night, near a bar?!”We argued and then I cried. I cried because I was angry, angry at feeling so weak and helpless. You thought you hurt my feelings but was still firm with me. I yelled at you and said,“Don’t give yourself the comfort in thinking you made me cry!”That’s when you responded, “Why would I ever feel satisfied by making a girl cry? Why would I ever want to make you cry? I like your face better when it’s smiling and laughing.”I stopped crying then. I was replaying those words again and again in my head.
I was trying to understand what they meant. Alana’s voice was in my head again telling me her idea.
The car suddenly jerked me back to consciousness and Mr Brown pulled over, pressing hard on the brakes. Mrs Brown turned around in her seat, her eyes were watery, and I never realised how much her eyes were like Uri’s. She was crying. Her faced was pained as she looked at my expressionless face. I looked at her not knowing if I was showing surprise or if I still remained like a statue. That’s when Uri’s voice filled my head with something he had once said. We were watching the sun set on a hillside and I was in deep concentration. My mind was far off. I knew your hand was holding mine, and your body was turned towards me, but regardless of all the embarrassment I had experienced leading up to this moment, I had grown so accustomed to you and your attention to me that I was perfectly content in drifting off in my thoughts. You had watched me for sometime. When I did come back and glance over at you, I saw in your eyes something I never saw before. At that moment I knew you were mine and I would always be yours. You then said, in your deep sultry voice,“I don’t mind it when you go off and forget I’m here. I can admire the statuesque you become.”I was surprised and demanded what that meant.
“Asia, are you alright?” Mrs Brown reached out her hand hesitantly. Her hand was just above my arm, refusing to physically touch me. I looked at her and nodded. “Yes.” I said. Her eyes were drowning themselves and I felt real pain this time. Not the pain that I felt from the memories, but the pain you got when you were inflicting agony on someone else, and you knew it.
“What happened?” My voice was sombre.
Mr Brown hit the steering wheel and cursed a few words. Mrs Brown turned and touched the sleeve of his dress shirt. He quieted down and went outside to assess the damage. Mrs Brown followed and I was left alone in the car. I leaned on the car door, staring out at the setting sun. The treetops in the distance were dark now, only they’re outlines depicted they were trees.
After awhile I could hear yelling and I looked over to the front of the car where Mr Brown was kicking the front of the car and Mrs Brown had her hands up, trying to cover her tears. There was pain everywhere, no joy or smiles. Why wasn’t I crying like Mrs Brown, or kicking and screaming like Mr Brown? The zombie I’ve become was eating everything up.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the door. I slammed it shut and walked over to where the Brown’s were and watched as they looked at me in awe. I knew why I was being watched like this…I hadn’t moved since we left my house. I pulled the vase even tighter now into my torso, feeling the sculpted designs claw into my organs.
“What is wrong?” I could feel the distance I placed between my emotions and theirs.
“We hit a pot hole and the tire…”
“The car won’t move. The axle broke when we drove through the pot hole.” Mr Brown said.
I looked from the car to the Brown’s and back again. Mrs Brown spoke up again, “Asia, honey. Why don’t you go ahead of us? We’ll head back down the hill and get a tow truck. When we’re done we’ll meet you at the top. Ok?”
I knew they didn’t want to go any further. They didn’t want to go to the top of the hill; they didn’t want to be reminded of Uri, or of their loss. They didn’t want to be around me and have that loss intensified by my way of acting, my expressions and my numbness to everything. I understood, nodded, and replied, “I will meet you here when I’m done. You don’t need to come to the top of the hill, the road just gets rougher as you move up.” With that I walked on. In the distance I could hear the disturbing howls of a mother’s loss.
