Branches Book

BRANCHES

mother’s face everywhere I went. The longer I stared, the more the people around me became her. I shook my head and they went back to normal. I was scared of seeing her everywhere, but I was even more scared of one day no longer being able to see her at all. I felt Michael staring down at me. “Did it happen again?” he asked. “Yeah,” I said. “Me too.” The rest of the week went on like that: waking up late, Dad forgetting to make us lunch, Michael complaining about my dad’s close watch, and so on. I continued to see my mother everywhere I went. Dad and Michael had to remind me that it was just a figment of my imagination. Pretty soon, Michael pretended not to care anymore. I guess it was easier for him to act like everything was fine. He was already an outcast among the other boys at school. When everyone else was out playing basketball at recess, he stayed in the art room to draw. He definitely didn’t need to be the kid that cried every day too. Although Michael claimed he had “moved on,” I didn’t believe it. I saw how bad his mood swings were first hand. December 24 th , Christmas Eve, was one of his worst days. My father was in the kitchen making us some tea. I watched silently as he took his time pouring the hot water into the three mugs; just a splash of milk went into each one. He handed us each a cup and then began one of the hardest conversations of his life. “Christmas this year won’t be as extravagant as the ones we’ve had in the past,” he said. His words were slow. He said we were running low on money. He explained that now that mom was gone we no longer had two sources of income. I said that I understood, but this was all much too complicated for my six-year old brain to handle. “Santa’s still coming though, right?” I asked innocently. My dad began to speak but Michael cut him off. “No Tessa, Santa’s not real, and he’s not coming. Just like Mom’s not coming. She’s gone, Tessa. Get used to it.” My face froze. His words pierced my skin and rattled my entire being from within. I never really understood the concept of death until those words came out of Michael’s mouth. She was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. If there was no Santa, there was no Tooth Fairy or Easter Bunny, and there was no Mom. Michael saw the terror that overcame my face and seemed to immediately regret what he said. “Tessa, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to….” But he was too late. I stabbed him back with the only weapon I had. “Dad, Michael has Mommy’s locket!” Michael shot daggers at me with his eyes. My dad was still; watching us like a movie. The three of us stood there, transfixed, for what seemed like a lifetime, until my dad finally spoke up.

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