Boxes

it's the season of scars and of wounds in the heart
of feeling the full weight of our burdens
it's the season of bowing our heads in the wind
and knowing we are not alone in fear
not alone in the dark
~ Vienna Teng, "The Atheist Christmas Carol"

December 30, 2009

Chris opened the basement door and stared outside. She hadn't done this in a week. Maybe a little longer. She used to come to this door everyday, often a few times during the day, looking for the entrance to Milliways but not finding it.

"Looking for something?"

Chris closed the door and turned around and smiled at Caiti. "No," she smiled weakly. "I just wanted some fresh air."

Caiti shifted the box in her hands and nodded. "I'm going to bring this upstairs with the rest of the boxes," gesturing towards the box near Chris' feet, "Do you want me to get that one too?"

"No, I'll bring it up."

Caiti nodded again and left the room. She had noticed how much time Chris spent in the basement. At this door. Her sister hadn't said much just a few confused glances but Chris knew.

Sometimes Chris wondered if she was imagining it. Maybe it was a dream. Or even some break from reality. Maybe I'm losing my mind.

She was almost tempted to go to a psychiatrist, tell them everything and accept whatever pills or stay in a mental hospital they give her. Then she could accept that this was all in her mind. Then she could stop waiting.

Chris started dragging a box around and heard Caiti coming down the stairs.

"That was school. It looks like everything's a go."

Still crouching on the floor and still filling up the box, Chris looked up at her sister. "So it's only six more credits, right?"

"Yeah. And the internship but I'm still waiting to hear from Professor Duffy."

Chris started bunching up the newspaper in her hands. "Sounds like you'll be busy," she said mildly, "Do you feel ready to go back to school?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," her sister answered with a shrug.

She smiled, "You don't have to sound so enthused. Do you want to go back?

From the way she shifted and rolled her eyes, Chris could tell Caiti was getting annoyed.

"I don't want to mope around the house for another year. It's getting kind of dull and I think I've had my fill of late night tv."

Caiti sighs and with her foot, pushes a box to the side.

"I know it'll be rough but ... it's always going to be. Waiting won't make it easier. I'm kind of afraid it'll make it worse," she mutters. "Besides, I'm looking forward to the new place. We're lucky we found one that takes pets."

Chris laughs at this. "Like you couldn't smuggle Coco in," she says while stuffing the balled up newspaper in the box.

Her sister smiles a little and Chris notices her freckles have faded some. She and her mother were the only ones in their family whose skin freckled. A dusting on their nose and cheeks. With their mother it was barely noticeably but Caiti's always stood out more.

"It's dad's birthday," Caiti says softly. Chris nods and Caiti continues, "I wasn't sure if you noticed. You didn't say anything."

"I didn't know what to say."

Hands in pocket, Caiti rubs the toe of her shoe at an imaginary mark on the floor. "It's dumb, I know, but I think I was so reluctant to move because so much of this house reminds me of him."

"It's not dumb."

She watches her sister look around the nearly empty basement. Caiti looks back at her.

"You went to church with me on Christmas Eve."

It was a question, not a statement.

She gave an answer close to the truth. Chris still wasn't sure what the truth was. What she was looking for. "I didn't want you to go alone."

Caiti's toe moved back to the imaginary spot on the floor. "So are you still an atheist ... or agnostic? I forgot which you said."

"Agnostic," Chris replies. She looks down and closes the box. "I don't know."

Her sister nods a little. "Right," she whispers, then purses her lips and Chris waits for the next question.

"So ... where do you think mom and dad are?"

Chris sits back and looks away. She wanted to tell Caiti the truth but without any proof it just seemed like a cruel joke.

After a moment, she looks back at the younger girl. "I'm not sure."

Caiti seems to accept this answer and she meets her sister's gaze. "I had a dream a while ago about dad. Like I did after mom died. He was by a lake, it looked like Bullfrog Lake, but it wasn't. Anyway, he was happy," she looked down, "I know it's just a dream but it felt so real. I think it was some ways."

She just nodded, her throat feeling to tight to say anything more. If Caiti had stayed a few moments more, she might have told her everything.

The phone rang and Caiti turned her head towards the upstairs. "That's school. I'll be right back," she said before leaving.

Chris pushed a few boxes out of the way and leaned against the wall, her legs curled to her side.

It had happened. No matter how much she wanted to pretend otherwise, how much she might want to forget. (But really not at all.) She had seen her father again. She had no frame of reference to explain what had happened and she may never have any proof. But it had happened. She may never be able to understand it but she couldn't just put it in a box and push it to the side. It was real.

A quote came to her. The same one that been echoing in her mind since she returned.

I had an experience. I can't prove it, I can't even explain it, but everything that I know as a human being, everything that I am, tells me that it was real.*

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