Chapter Text
Joy.
Its all anyone wants. Its not a feeling you chase. Its not like peace, or happiness, or contempt. It can be grouped with those as just another way to be please, but its not. Joy. joy is different. Joy is found in the strangest places. But when you feel it, you always understand why. You take a breath and think, “wow. This is what life is supposed to be.” joy is a form of understanding. I cant describe the joy i felt when elijah ran into my arms after it was made official that he’d live with me. Is that what you felt? Is that why you did it? Did you find joy in me? Or did i remind you too much of yourself. I really wish i could understand.
Fuck, the house is a mess. Maybe i shouldn't have let him stay at sadie’s tonight.
Actually, i doubt that wouldve changed anything.
Maybe.
I dont know.
Maybe having eli look right in my eyes and tell me how wrong I am would make it go away. But now all i can see when i imagine his face is that resentment. Its always been there. Its been there since the first time i left him alone with our father. It just got worse every time i picked up the bottle.
I guess i should consider myself lucky, he doesnt have the same fear that he did when hed look at my father. Maybe i should be stricter. Let him know that i still have authority over him. But i cant force him to stay here; if eli wants to leave he can leave. He stays at sadies whenever he can now.
Im fine with it. Its disappointing, but im fine with it. I understand.
I tell myself that i understand.
Sadie’s okay with it, no way she cant be. I can tell that she feels bad for both of us. There was nothing she could've done, but every time we come over i can see how guilty she makes herself. I just wish he would understand how hard im trying.
I dont realize it, but im crying now. I really wish he was here. I wish anyone was here. I wish my mommy was here.
My mommy is here.
Her hand grazes my jaw and gestures my face up to look at hers. So sweet, so gentle. So loving. I want to ask if it was really her, but i know id be disappointed by the answer. So i just stare into her eyes. Her hands find their way down my shoulders all the way to my wrists and into my sweaty palms. My fingers instinctively intertwine themselves with hers, and i stand up.
It feels like im floating. Like im full of air. The air in my body is forcing out the air in my lungs, one of her hands drop away from mine, and i let it happen. Im not thinking now. All i can see if her beautiful hair, her shining eyes and glowing skin, her soft warm hands and well kept nails.
As she guides me back to my bedroom through the mess of shattered photo frames and beer bottles. I can hear it crunching under my feet, but i dont feel it. I know its her. She winces and sucks in through her teeth to try to hide the pain that shes taking from me. Shes not very good at it. She never was. But she really does try.
The door to my room is silent when opened. Its odd. Theres usually such a distinct squeak that the hinges make. But today, its silent.
Everything is silent.
Mom is silent.
The bed is silent when she lays me down on it.
I dont know what im doing anymore. Its just happening. Im not me right now; bullshit. Thats just what i wouldve said to someone if they saw me this way.
Thats not true.
It cant be.
Because i know, when i feel that horrific mix of comfort and sorrow the moment mom rests her hand on my arm as i curl into a ball of shame on my ten year old mattress, i am me.
And i am cold.