“Hey Viola, are you done packing up your room?” His voice carried the same tone it had for months now.
“Yeah! I’m done, but I was going to go out and visit mom. Is that alright?” She asked, slipping on a winter coat just as her dad reached her room.
“Oh, yeah, of course! Just remember to be careful, it’s icy out there.” Her father was never good at masking his emotions in his voice; all of his pity and concern bled through clearly.
“I know, Dad, I’ll be back in time to help you move the boxes into the van.” Hugging her dad on the way out, Viola bounded down the stairs and out the door. As she stepped outside, she let out a sigh of relief. She knew her dad meant well, but the way he’d been walking on eggshells was suffocating. Then again, he was never the one who had been good at these things. Which was precisely why she was visiting her mom.
Viola felt a buzz in her pocket as she walked down the sidewalk. Pulling out her phone, she saw the notification was from Andy. She had a mix of 36 unanswered calls and unopened texts from her. She appreciated that Andy wanted to help, but how could she? What could anyone do about this? Her dad’s solution was a new house, and she had a feeling Andy would be able to eat enough sugar to put her in a coma; either way, they were unhelpful.
Snapping back from her thoughts, Viola realized she had arrived. Viola’s steps slowed as she approached. She sat down and pulled her knees to her chest, resting her head atop her knees. “Hey, Mom.”
She sat there for a while in silence, a part of her hoping there would be a response. Of course, she knew it was silly; she didn’t believe in ghosts, however, since the accident, she hoped for their existence.
“I don’t know what to do without you here. Dad decided to move us a couple of blocks away from our old place. He says new scenery will do us some good, but that doesn’t make sense when the only real difference in scenery is the lack of a tree house at the new place. All the houses around here look the same.” Once more, Viola sat and waited for a response.
“I haven’t talked to Andy or Darren in a while. I don’t know what to say to them. I don’t think I can face them until I’ve figured out how to cope with—” Viola stopped herself and stared at the snow, beginning to form an opaque layer of white atop her mother’s headstone. Viola stood with a sigh, kissing her two fingers before placing them on her mom’s grave.
Viola walked away, consumed by her own thoughts. She walked for a while before letting out a yelp as she was grabbed by the arm and pulled to the side.
“Where have you been? You won’t answer my texts, and you won’t answer Andy. We know you need space, but you could at least let us know you’re alive.” Darren spoke with a mild harshness that formed a pit of guilt in Viola’s stomach.
“I know, I’m sorry, I just, I have some things I want to sort out before anything.” Viola didn’t meet Darren’s eye as she muttered.
“Look, Viola, I know you want to prove that you can handle anything but this, this of all things, you don’t need to take on all by yourself. C’mon, just come over to Andy’s for an hour. We miss our friend, and I think it could do you some good.” Viola could tell Darren wasn’t going to let her off the hook; he may be pretending she has a choice, but the boy was relentless. With the roll of her eyes, she and Darren began walking to Andy’s home.
“I found a stray in the snow.” Viola hit Darren in the shoulder as soon as the words left his mouth. Andy’s eyes widened at the sight, and she immediately pounced on Viola, trapping her in a hug. Viola tensed before relaxing, realizing how much she had missed her sugar-addicted friend.
“I’m making cookies right now! You can help decorate.” Viola laughed before speaking, “Wow, Andy, you mean you’re making something sugary? I’m shocked.” Andy glared at Viola before grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her to the kitchen.
The kitchen was soon filled with laughter, awfully out-of-tune Christmas carols, and ugly Christmas cookies. “Maybe you should stick to volleyball, Viola. That bell cookie is extremely disfigured.”
There is a moment of silence before Viola’s reply, “That is supposed to be Rudolph.” There is another silence before the trio breaks into laughter.
The laughter dies down, and Viola, for the first time in months, feels a little lighter.
Andy handed her a cookie, “I know you want nothing more but to escape this world now that it feels like it is missing something, and trust me, that hole doesn’t go away.” Andy paused, looking around, likely thinking about her dad, who had passed away when they were much younger. “Grief is like a gaping wound; you have to trust time to heal it for you. You can do things to help that process, like going to therapy or finding joy in other parts of life, but it’s going to scar. But that scar becomes less of a reminder of something painful and more of something to tell other people about as time goes on. But I’ll tell you this—nobody with a gaping wound ever survived by locking themselves away from the help they’re being offered or pretending there isn’t a wound in the first place.”
Viola takes a bite of her cookie before pushing herself off the counter, “I promised my dad I would help him move boxes to our new house. You guys want to help me move my life a few houses over?” Viola smiled meekly, her friends already getting ready to leave. Watching the scene, Viola felt like she could feel the hole inside her get just a little smaller.
