One Hundred Sleepless Nights

Yulia had invited me over to her house and here we were, smoking on her roof and listening to Deftones. Yulia was like my cousin. Our families had been close, in Pennsylvania. Little did we know we originated from the same small town in Jersey. When Yulia moved back to Cherry Shore (a town on the outskirts of Mayville), I had felt as though I should have moved with her. My grandmother loved Pennsylvania far too much to leave and Jersey was too painful a place to visit. Moving here was made easier knowing that I had someone I actually knew.

Yulia danced to the hypnotizing tunes of Deftones while my mind wandered to a conversation we had earlier. She asked me about my parents and if I remembered much about why I left. I didn’t remember much of a damn thing about them… Just feelings, scents… It bummed me out so much that I had blocked them out like that; as if I had never met them. I take a drag from my cigarette and blow the smoke out in a sigh. I lay on the rooftop and close my eyes and think hard.

I do remember how it happened. I just chose not to relive it. I had walked home, like any other day after school. Our neighbor (Claire, maybe?) called me over. My parents weren’t home so she was supposed to watch me until they came. I don’t remember what we did. I can still smell the faint aroma of cinnamon and can hear her kids laughing in the back of my mind. What I do know was that the sun had started to set and I kept looking out the window, waiting for my parents.

I don’t know how late it was but it was enough that Claire was beginning to pace. Her kids and I were asleep on the long couch when we heard a knock on the door. Like curious children, we peaked through the window. There were two cop cars in front of my house but, three officers stood at Claire’s door. I still hear the muffled cry that escaped Claire’s lips before she had a chance to cover her mouth. After a few moments, Claire walks into the living room with the officers. She sits next to me and hugs me tightly. I don’t remember what she whispered to me or what the officers told her after that but I recall the feel of hot tears on my head as she hugged me. I can feel her trembling hands hold me . . .

“Lana. Lana, are you okay??” I open my eyes to find Yulia’s purple hair hovering over my face.

“What? Yeah, what happened?” I must have dowsed off.

“Your cigarette burned you,” she laughed. “How the hell did you fall asleep smoking?”

“Oh god!” I chuckle. “I didn’t really sleep last night, so it’s catching up with me. I guess I should head home.”

I wasn’t really that tired but all this thinking sure was taking a toll on me. The whole drive home I can't help but continue to think about that night, and the nights following it.

“I will be with you the whole time, sweetie.” Claire had picked up a few things from my house and I had been with her for two nights already. No one had told me about my parents yet. Or, maybe I just blocked that out too.

“Oh, Katya, I’m so sorry to have to tell you like this. I had lost your number but I finally found it in one of Elena’s phone books . . .” I didn’t understand why Claire didn’t just ask my mother for Baba’s number instead of going through her things.

Claire told me my grandmother would be here that evening. The rest is a blur. Every part after that… Seeing my grandmother, the funeral, whatever they told me about my parents, moving… It is all a big blur and I don’t know what’s real and what’s just made up. When I finally find parking by my apartment building, I stare at my hands holding the steering wheel. No thoughts or anything, just empty staring. Suddenly, I start hitting the wheel, the dashboard and anything else. I start crying and hang my head on the steering wheel. Why the fuck did it all have to happen this way? The tears flooding down my cheeks feel all too familiar.

I cry for a few minutes until something hits my car door.

“Sorry!” A little kid runs up and grabs his basketball.

I breathe in and look into the rearview to compose myself. Thank goodness my windows are tainted. My mascara had run and I looked like a gothic teenager, not unlike myself in high school. I wiped my tears away and some of the smudged eyeliner but there isn’t much I can do about the bleeding mascara. I try to fix my hair so I can at least hide it.

Once I lock my car door, I head towards my building with downcast eyes. In efforts of trying to hide my makeup disaster, I bump into someone on the stairs.

“Watch where ya’ goin’,” The guy groans.

“Sorry…” I mumble back as I turn to him.

“Next time -” He cut off mid-sentence, and I catch glimpse of his hazel eyes.

“I know, watch where I’m going. Sorry.” I can feel him watching me as I climb the stairs.

I had apologized. I hoped he wouldn’t make a big scene over a careless bump. What a great way to meet a fellow neighbor, if he even lived here. Once I’m in my apartment, I slump against the door and bury my face in my hands. I’m frustrated with myself.

Do I really want to face everything I’ve been blocking out all of these years? It wasn’t like I was on a mission to find my parents’ killer. It wasn’t as though it was unsolved, either. Years later my uncle Marko told me what happened against my grandmother’s wishes. They were out and about and they cut down a wrong alley or something. Some asshole robs them but when my parents have nothing valuable enough to give, he gets jittery.

He wasn’t out to rob for just a few dollars and a necklace. He demands more but there wasn’t more. He shoots them both, and leaves them in the alley. The shmuck was caught a day later. Somehow, he found my parents’ car and took off with it. The gun, illegally owned of course, was found in the glove compartment. Idiot.

I just want control over my head; control over my memories. I wasn’t going to let tragedy take away the little bits of my parents I had. Baba Katya’s death was what made me realize I needed to face this. I don’t even know why anymore. I just needed to.