The Summer Obsession

I wish I could tell you that we buried her in a field of flowers. Actually, I’d much prefer if I could simply refrain from telling you the gruesome and ultimately trivial details about her untimely end and the aftermath of such a thing at all. I honestly shouldn’t have to tell you anything because there should not exist a single thing of this nature for me to tell. People who have achieved a meager twenty-two years of existence shouldn’t kick the bucket, especially not if they happen to be my big sister. Oh, I’m sorry. That was probably extremely selfish and egocentric of me to say, wasn’t it? Well, let me rephrase that so that I sound at least a little selfless and sympathetic on the behalf of others equally as unfortunate as myself. Twenty two year-old women shouldn’t have to die at such an early age, especially when they’ve got a very important job still left with the living: to raise two darling little kids.

“Summer, we should probably be leaving soon.”

It took the slightly annoyed call of my mother to pull me out of my morbid train of thought. Although she was clearly irritated with my inability to evacuate the premises on command, she looked as if she were actually more caught up with the grievances of being here in the first place. And by being here, I feel as though it’s important to mention that I’m not entirely sure if she’d rather be at home or in the figurative Heaven that she presumes her eldest child to now be residing. Yet, if it’s the latter, one would think that she’d be able to differentiate between the names of her deceased eldest child and the living, breathing daughter that stands before her.

“My name is Aubrey, mom.” I corrected for her after realizing that she in fact would never bother to correct herself. Instead of bothering to flash her a heated glare that she probably didn’t deserve, I opted to concentrate my gaze upon the smooth granite surface of the heart shaped object before me. Carefully, I forced my fingers to graze the only lines of indention to be found upon the entire, freshly carved thing.



This was obviously the person she was truly thinking of, the child with which her heart currently and rather desperately tried to reach out for.

“That’s what I said, honey.” My mother replied after a moment or two, her tone laced with would-be assurance. It would have been comforting when she stepped forward in order to wrap her arms around me in a heartfelt embrace if not for the fact that the moment she attempted to do so a cloud of deadly, translucent gray smoke wafted into my face before curling upwards into the abnormally clear blue sky. It didn’t matter a tad bit that nasty cigarette smoke had been literally blown in my face, thoroughly counteracting the motherly love with which my mom was trying her hardest to provide. Even if it left me sputtering loudly, aiming to protect my lungs from toxins I prided myself in being unaccustomed to, I would manage. This is because, despite that it was halfhearted and lackluster, the action my mother had just preformed was still a crack at parental-like love.

“Katherine, Aubrey,” A masculine voice called from a short distance away. It was at this vocal intrusion that my mother and I immediately separated from our awkward embrace. A tall, broad shouldered figure hobbled across the field of deep green blades of grass, approaching my mother and me at a particularly slow pace. It did not take long to recognize miniscule details like the aged “beer belly” and graying hair in order to put a name to the face.

“Hey, dad,” I murmured, exhaling through my nose. Instead of openly acknowledging me with a fake smile, my father merely nodded.

“Summer,” Dad murmured, focusing more of his attention on his distraught looking wife than his remaining offspring. This time at the obvious name error I visibly cringed.

“I think it’s time we head home.” My father continued, wrapping an arm around my mom’s sunken shoulders. Although it was basically a redundant utterance of what my mother had just recently suggested mom acted like it was a brilliant decision.

Standing together like that, trying to remain strong, my parents probably looked like picturesque and cliché parental units of your average American family – almost. The key difference between my parents and those from sitcoms is that my parents were withered, hollow shells of the people they used to be. My mother who was once tan and vibrant was now pale and constantly in a state of prolonged melancholy whereas my father whose hair once held an awfully lot of pigment for a man of his age now had a head full of gray, thinning locks.

“Yeah, you’re right,” My mother stated, obviously agreeing with my father’s previous observation. She paused in order to glance at my father with curious olive orbs before speaking again.

“But are you finished with everything here?” Mom queried as she quirked a brow ever so slightly.

It sounded like a weird inquiry to make whilst at a cemetery, but only if you didn’t know that she was addressing the fact that dad had gone to visit both of his parents’ graves after visiting Summer’s. It’s kind of totally macabre to think about it, first my dad’s mom, then my mom’s, then dad’s dad, then their daughter.

“. . .Yeah,” My dad retorted, his tone quieter than usual.

It seemed like almost immediately afterwards that we were back inside our vehicle, speeding at a safe rate of twenty five miles-per-hour towards our generic suburban home and far, far, away from Spring Creek cemetery and the last remnants of the only true best friend I’d ever known. Somehow, though, instead of focusing on the somber fact that my sister was no longer around, I instead forced myself to mope solely over the fact that my parents seemed to forget my existence. And sure, it was probably more important to mourn my sister, but it was a Hell of a lot easier to pretend that a case of identity crisis was the worst thing that could have possibly happened to me. As such, I couldn’t help but sigh as I allowed my head to thunk against the cool glass of our beat up minivan.

“Sure, because my name’s totally not Aubrey or anything. . .”

But it is, or more precisely, it’s Aubrey Ray Mack, and I suppose that now is a good a time as any for a proper introduction.