The Horrible Truth

Weeks after Ricardo’s death, I started to feel depressed. It was only mom and me at home, and mom wasn’t helping me at all. She would just go to work and come home late, exhausted. Everyday, I feel like it’s my fault. I should have talk to Ricardo and helped him. I might have been the youngest, but I was more mature and caring. Ricardo was the only reason why I went through dad’s drinking problems because Ricardo protected me and soothed me when I was scared. Now, I felt like I should have been the one to die. No leave this world instead of mi hermano.

Even at school, I didn’t feel great. I wouldn’t pay attention to my teacher’s lectures or do my homework. At home, I would just go to my room and lay there, staring at the ceiling. It got the point that one day, Mrs. Taylor, my history teacher, pulled me aside and asks what’s wrong. That I been sleeping through all of her class and bring in uncompleted assignments.

“I haven’t been getting any sleep.” I told her and just left before she said anything else. I didn’t feel like getting any advice or help from my teacher especially to tell her about my problems. Trust me, I was tired of that.

When Henry found out that I stopped going to my therapy classes with Tonya, he actually stormed into my house and told me to go back or else. I yelled at him and told him I don’t want to go back to someone who wouldn’t ever help me. It gave me a serious face and left. The only time we heard from him after that was when he told me our insurance will cover for our loss.

I walked through the halls after my talk with Mrs. Taylor. I was so tired that I literally knocked a kid down. He cussed me out and stomped away. I woke up in a snap when I heard people laughing at me. I ran through some kids and fell down next to a tree in front of my elementary school.

School has now come hard for me. I would make a mistake and do something to catch people’s attention and then, get laughed at for my actions. Like one in class, I fell asleep during a class work assignment. When someone dropped his or her textbook, I jumped up and screamed that I wasn’t sleeping. The teacher stared at him with a furious look and everyone around me giggled behind my back. I realized what I did and sat back down.

Home, I grabbed a short snack and sat down in my room. Brownie came next to me and started to whine. I quickly got his leash and we both went outside. It was sunny outside so I figured it wouldn’t be bad if I just went to the park. I strolled through a children’s park while Brownie looked for a place to pee. When he stopped, I stared at the playground across from us and saw the little kids running and screaming their heads off. I smiled for the first time in a while until I realized what park we were at.

When I was little, mom would bring Ricardo and me to this park. Ricardo would help me make a sandcastle in the sandbox and push me down the slide. He swung me in the swings and just made me laugh when he was on the monkey bars. That day was my favorite memory of Ricardo.

I went next to a swing I remember being swung on. I touched it and then, started to cry. I just broke down on the ground and stayed there numb and letting the tears fall. Brownie just sat near me and whines. I looked up and saw people staring at me. I cleared my tears, picked up Brownie and left. When I was back home, I got my purple pillow and continued the tears.

It was about eleven at night when I finally got up. I heard noise downstairs and went to investigate it. I was almost at the bottom of the staircase when mom came out of the kitchen. She was holding onto a bottle and dragging herself to the living room. I followed her and read what was on the bottle. Vodka. I stepped back when she drank it and started to cry. I ran back to my room and faced the mirror.

I kept saying no in my head. No, not her. Mom was supposed to be strong for me so I can keep on being strong, but she was just like dad, a failure. A big failure. I grab the picture of mom, Ricardo and me at the park and threw it at my white wall. I watched the glass break and fall on the ground. I glanced at myself in the mirror again and shook my head. What’s happing to me?

At school the next day, Mrs. Polis set me aside after class to talk about my grades. I sat in front of her desk and looked around.

“Sola, I know you’re a smart girl. You were doing great in the beginning of school. Now, you turn in unfinished work. You sleep during part of my teaching. On tests, you have been getting D’s even F’s. I figured since your brother Ricardo was so smart –” That got me enraged when she tried to compare me with Ricardo.

“Don’t ever compare me with mi hermano. We were never the same and would ever be. Entiendes?” I said coldly and low. She stared at me hard and then clears her throat.

“Yes, I understand. I just expect more from you, Sola. Look, I would give you another chance to pull up your grades, give you an extra credit. But, if you don’t turn it in or pull your grade up, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to fail you. Okay?” We eyed each other for a while. I nodded and wrote down the extra credit on a piece of paper. I left her room and went to my next class.

I decided that I would do the assignment. I really did need the points to get back on track. I mean, I want to be able to go to high school and college. My family isn’t known for passing high school. Dad didn’t even go to high school. It took him like a few years to actually get a high school diploma. Mom was close to finishing college, but quit after she married papa. Ricardo was supposed to be the first one, but now he is gone, I have to finish his accomplishment for him.

In my room, I picked up my science textbook and started to copy the definitions from the section we were reading. I read most of it before I heard the front door slam. The refrigerator door opened and shut. I went downstairs to see what mom was doing, but by the time I reached the living room, I wished I didn’t.

Mom was lying on the couch, smoking some type of cigarette. I coughed and stared at the coffee table. A glass of whisky was sitting next to an ashtray. Mom never smoked in her life. She thought of the cigarette as a death stick. While I continued to cough, mom looked startled and snapped her eyes to me.

“Hola, mama.” I said, covering my nose. She looked at me funny, and then reached for her glass with the cigarette between her index finger and her middle finger. She took a sip and then looked at me again.

“What do you want?” She said drunk. I felt nervous to answer the question.

“Nada, nothing.” I said, swallowing with fear.

“Well, leave me alone, Niña. Ir. Go.” She yelled. I quickly ran out of there and went back to my room. I cried next to my bed and got tears on my blanket. I was getting tired of crying. I just wanted to cry one time and that’s it. Never come back.

I turned in my paper the next day. Mrs. Polis graded it and gave me a 100 on it. She smiled and said to keep up the work. I thanked her and left. In my other classes, I started the same thing. I gave my teachers assignments on time and got credit for finally doing my work. When they were teaching us new things, I bothered to raise my hand and ask about the problem. I was started to feel happy once in a while.

But at home, I still felt depressed. Now, every time mom came home, she would get her a bottle of vodka or whisky and drink it. She smoked cigarette after cigarette every night. I wanted to stormed next to her and smack sense inside of her. Tell her what she is doing and what’s turning out to be. That she is turning out to be a failure like dad. But I stopped myself after I thought of it. I was only 9 and a half. I couldn’t do something like that to mama even if I wanted to.

One morning, I was in the kitchen getting ready for school. I fit me some toast and eggs for breakfast. Brownie was next to me, chewing on some bacon I cooked. Then, the phone rang. I stopped breathing and slowly walked to the phone. I imagined it was my mom’s work telling me she ran away or it was dad wanted to chat with me from jail. But I slapped myself in reality. Dad never called us. Ever. And mom would never be that stupid and depressed to run away, I hope. I answered the phone and listened.

“Hola?” I said. I waited for a reply.

“Hola? Sola? Is that my nieta?” someone said. It was my abuelo, grandpa.

“Abuelo!” I yelled in excitement.

“Hola, Sola. ¿Cómo estás?” He asked.

“I’m fine, abuelo. Bien.”

“How’s your mama?” He asked.

“Um. Gran. Great.” I lied. I didn’t want him to know what was happening to mom. The fact that his daughter was drinking and smoking.

“bueno! Well, nieta, I got bad news.” I waited. “Your abuela passed away last night.” He said with no emotions. I opened my mouth and felt speechless.

My abuela was my best friend beside Ricardo. When we went to visit her in Guatemala a couple of years ago, I was five. She brought me outside next to a beach. We sat on the sand and watched the seagulls fly above us. Water ran up to my feet and tickled me. That was the only memory I really have of abuela.

What I remember was when she told me about the story of the mountains. She called me on my eighth birthday and said she wanted to tell me something.

“Nieta, I know it’s your eight birthday and you are getting older. I figured it’s time I tell you this story your gran abuela told me when I was about your age. See, there was a little niña who was born into this world. Her mother seeks that she would accomplish things in her life. As the niña grew up, she started to change. When she was about ten, she meets an old woman on the side of the road. The old woman looked at her and motioned the niña to come over.

The old woman told her about her life, saying that she didn’t accomplish the goals she wanted to when she was like the niña’s age. The little niña asked her what she wanted to do when she was young and the old woman smiled at her. She said she wanted to make sure that her mountains grew up. The niña was confused and ask the old woman what mountains.

The woman explained that the minute you are born, a mountain is begun. To make sure that the mountain keeps growing, you have to go accomplish the goal you are given. Her goal was to become a great folk-teller when she grow up, but as time went by, she forgot her goal and soon, her mountain didn’t grow anymore. Now, she wishes that she could have keep on doing her goal. The niña felt sorry for the woman and told her that she would continue the goal for her. The woman smiled and thanked the niña. The niña heard her mama calling for her and left the old woman a piece of bread she had in her pocket.

Since then, the niña continued on the goal of the old woman, telling most of her friends the story of the old woman. When she had a little Niña, she told her hija the story, too. Soon, the niña’s hija told her hija and so on and so far. Now, I’m telling you the story of the old woman.”

I thought about the story and then, cried. But I forgot that I was on the phone with abuelo.

“Sola? Sola? ¿Sigues ahí? Hola?” Abuelo asked, worried.

“Sorry, abuelo. I’m still here.” I told him I had to go to school and hung up the phone. I looked down at Brownie who was eating. I heard the bus screeched near my house and grab my backpack.

The whole day, I tried to concentrate on my school work, but every time, I thought of abuela. My abuelo. I just wished I spent more time with her. I loved her dearly and never got the chance to see her again.

I had a test that day in Mrs. Polis’s class. The whole time I was taking the test, I thought of the story of the old woman. I turned in my test incomplete and got a stare from Mrs. Polis.

“Sola, you didn’t do your test. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to stay after school and completed this test.” I moaned and stomped to my next class. While everyone was going home, I was stuck in school doing a test I didn’t even felt like doing. I managed to finish it, but didn’t feel proud of the grade I was going to get.

I dragged myself to my house, tired. As I approached my white two-story house, I noticed the front door was opened. I ran inside to see if mom was home or someone was robbing her house. But lucky, mom was there on the couch with her cigarette and her usual glass of vodka. I walked next to her and took the cigarette out of her hand, but when I took it away, her hand didn’t move. I started to panic, shocked. I listened for breathing, but nothing. I jumped on her and started to do CPR I learned in health class. Nothing was working. I started to cry, looking around for the phone.

I picked up the phone and dialed 911. Then, I noticed how this was like the day I found Ricardo. I dropped the phone and fell down, crying. I wrapped my arms around my head and put my head on my knees. I felt something pointed me next to my thigh. I looked up and saw Brownie. I picked him up and hugged him.

A couple of minutes of crying and rocking myself, I heard sirens coming to my house. People with a stretcher came in and ask what the problem is. I didn’t say anything, but managed to point to mom’s body laying still on the couch. They reached to mom’s side and I heard one of them talked into a walkie-talkie.

Someone asked what my name was, but I said nothing. The person picked me up, and I fought back. When I looked to see them putting mom’s body on the stretcher, I fell back down and continued to cry. This was just a nightmare. A nightmare. I closed my eyes and opened them. I closed them again and imagined that this was just a dream. That I need to wake up from it. But every time I opened my eyes, I still saw mom’s body lying on the couch, dead.

People came in and out of my house. Someone would keep coming to me and trying to pick me up, but I would fight back and fall down to cry some more. They would calm me down and tell me that I have to leave so I can be taking somewhere safe. I said to myself, there’s no place safe anymore to me. I ran out of safe places to go to. I hugged Brownie close to me and cried harder.

My life is a walking nightmare. First, dad tries to rape me and abused my family. Then, Ricardo hung himself and left mom and me heartbroken. Now, mom and abuela are gone, mom becoming a failure to me and herself and abuela leaving me with only one memory. I was ruined for life and now, I can’t figure out how to deal with the rest of my life. I’m just a rose in an empty meadow waiting for someone to pick me up and help me.