Chapter 11 #3
Her head barely rests on the pillow, and her thick curls wrap around her face like a protective cocoon.
Seeing her so vulnerable reminds me that she is a human and humans make mistakes.
But it still doesn’t make it okay. I never asked to be born into such heartbreak.
Nora and I deserved better. But didn’t our mother deserve it, too?
I glance at her one last time before shutting her bedroom door.
After straightening the living room and kitchen up, I locate a pen and scrap mail.
I leave Mom a note letting her know I stopped by.
I stick a fifty dollar bill with the note.
In the back of my mind, I know she will most likely spend it on something I don’t agree with.
I can’t control every action made by Jewels.
If she wants to waste it, that’s on her.
But at least I can say I helped. I can’t live with the racing thoughts and guilt that ambush my brain. I’ve done my part, even though I shouldn’t have to.
I lock the doors and head out the side door. There’s one more thing I want to do before leaving. Walking through the backyard brings back young summers here. Those were days I cherished as a child. Because smiles and happiness were far in between, those sweet moments have stuck with me.
Even with the yard being overgrown with tall greenery, I spot the small trail at the edge of the yard line. Walking through, I get hints of honeysuckle and pine. I feel a sense of security being here on this trail.
And there it still sits high off the ground, “The treehouse.” The only fatherly thing our dad ever did for us.
Aside from the overgrown vines that caress its wilted boards, it hasn’t changed much.
This place holds a huge piece of my childhood.
Memories begin to flow endlessly through my mind.
There were times when mom would be fighting with one of her flings or, in a drunken rage, high on drugs.
Nora’s bedroom window faced the backyard. We would climb out and run straight for the treehouse. Nora and I made a pact that anytime we got scared, this is where we’d go together.
I climb the wooden ladder, careful not to get a splinter. At the top, I unclasp the small lock on the uneven door. Crawling inside, I finally stand and look around.
Ancient cobwebs are formed in every corner of the four walls.
I can’t help but smile being up here. This was my favorite place, my safe haven.
My and Nora’s little plastic table with chairs still sits in the same place we last left it.
The little drawings we created are all over the table, faded but still visible.
I run my fingers over the words in the center of the table. “Nora Ray and Olive Oil, sisters forever.” The corner of my eyes fills with tears. I still remember that day.
It’s bittersweet thinking that long ago, Nora and I were in here with our wondrous imaginations. We did not know that it would be our very last. Because life got in the way, we grew up and left behind the very place that made our childhood worth remembering.
I walk over to the cutout window, which holds no glass or frame. I always loved it because we could hear the crickets chirp at night. And even from time to time, we’d catch a small forest-scented breeze.
Our dad knew what he was doing when he picked where to cut out the window.
You’d never guess that there would be views worth seeing while living in a trailer park.
I stare off into the endless forest beyond the window.
Nora and I used to love coming up here at night and watching the moon.
We had the best view of it. There was something about the moon that would draw Nora in. Sometimes, I’d watch her instead.
I think she would have stayed up here all night just to watch the moon illuminate the night sky. Every night around 10 p.m., the moon’s natural gleam would shine through the forest and cast its glow into our treehouse window. It was a beautiful thing to see.
And what made it even more special was seeing a content smile on Nora’s face while she stalked the moon.
She was so beautiful in the moonlight. The way its light magnified her dazzling facial features.
It’s as if they were connected. Or maybe the moonlight healed her each time.
Nora never wanted me to see her vulnerable side.
When I was younger, I didn’t comprehend how she held it together so well. But as I grew, I understood why. She was the big sister, and she felt she needed to be strong for me. She was taking on a role that wasn’t meant to be hers. I’ve always admired her strength.
I’d give anything to be young again in this treehouse with Nora.
Just one last visit as kids. Those childhood memories are what I cling to.
I hold on to them so tightly. Because in those little kernels were happiness.
We could forget how fucked-up our lives were.
We could pretend that we weren’t born into a never-ending shit cycle of blood genetics.
Yeah, maybe it was only for a moment. But it was just enough to keep my splintered heart beating. I take one last look at the place that helped me fight for my once-tender life. One day, Nora and I will come here again and watch the moon together. One last time.