“Oh God, honey no—“ Ianthe brushed the tears from her cheeks, which only smudged her morning makeup, which she must have just applied. Gen’s hair was still up in a hair tie, stray fly-aways sticking to the sides of her head. Something had disturbed them from their morning routine. The phone rang in her ears. She swallowed hard as Gen and Ianthe shared a look.
“You should come and sit down, sweetie…” Gen tried to usher her towards the couch, but the thought of moving made Everlie sick to her stomach.
“Just tell me. What’s wrong?” She searched both of her parents eyes once more; Ianthe’s were closed, letting more tears slip through, Gen had all but composed herself, but she seemed to be the one who had the most strength to break whatever it was they had to tell her. Everlie braced herself, as much as she could. But nothing could have prepared her for what her mother was about to say.
“There’s been a terrible accident, E-Everlie.” Unbearable pause followed. “Early this morning….Attie’s car f-flew off the bridge headed out of town.” Everlie blinked. Her throat closed, her ears filled with hot blood, unable to hear a single word her mother was continuing to say. She spoke to Everlie, but she could no longer hear her. Ev turned quickly, her hand on the doorknob before Gen and Ianthe both came forward to pull her away from the storm. She struggled against them.
“I-I have to get to the h—hospital. I h-have to see her—“ She stumbled over her words, her hands shaking too much to even fumble with the metal knob. Ianthe pulled her back around till she was facing her parents again, agony consuming both of their faces, even though they were trying to be strong for her.
“Honey….Sweetie she’s…t—there was nothing the—they could d—do. She’s gone.”
Everlie blinked away from Ianthe, and passed Gen’s hooded eyes. She pulled free from them both and stepped backwards again until she hit the cool glass of their front door. More thunder shook her very core, but she didn’t jump this time. She only stared in awe at her parents until breathing proved too much and suddenly her lungs were on fire once more. She covered her mouth with both of her hands, shaking her head as if to remove any source of truth from Ianthe’s words, or to keep her mind on something so she didn’t have to think anymore. An unexpected sob escaped through the cracks and it was like a spark igniting a torrential downpour. She bent over herself letting the words wash over her, the grief consume her whole. Gen was there in a second pulling her daughter into her arms, rocking her like when she was a child. This was the first time they had hugged in so long she had forgotten what it was like to have her mother comfort her again. Ianthe’s hand rubbed gentle circles around her back trying to keep Everlie from seeing her bottom lip quiver. But she noticed it. She noticed it all in hyper detail the way her mother’s watched her for any signs of her breaking, any signs that she might disappear too. She sucked in hard and then again and again, but no air seemed to reach her lungs, an awful desperate gagging noise coming from her throat. Gen’s grip on her only tightened.
“Breath, Everlie, breath!” She hissed, trying to get her daughter to straighten up, but the act was too tiresome, and breathing was too much work. Everlie finally clicking together what it was that they had told her, pushed her mother’s off of her, back against the door once more. Gen and Ianthe’s hands stilled in the air like a painting, tortured soul captured in the oils.
“You’re lying.” She finally managed to squeak out. “Both of you. It-it’s what you do. You lie. She’s not—she can’t be.” Gen took a step forward but Everlie recoiled again, nowhere else to go but harder against the door. “She’s at the tree house. We’re meeting there. She’s there. You’ll see—“ Before she could say another world, Everlie turned and bolted through the door and out into the horrendous downpour, hope, for a moment, still alight inside her chest.
