All the Beautiful Ruins

I can’t breathe.

Not because something is  wrong but for once in my life, everything is right. I’m standing in our apartment doorway, staring at my mother like she’s lost her mind.

There’s a cake on our coffee table; an actual bakery cake. I can’t believe this!

“Mom, what did you do?”

She’s grinning at me like she just won a lottery, hands clasped together and practically bouncing on her feet.  

Mom?Really mom? She barely  has time to give me a  good morning kiss, yet she’s doing all of these? This is so unlike her.She works double shifts  and comes home  falling asleep during TV shows because she’s too exhausted to keep her eyes open.

But right now? She looks twenty years younger.

“Congratulations, June!” She throws her arms wide. “My baby received a gold medal at the International Spelling Bee!”

I guess she really did win a lottery!

I drop my bag and nearly tackle her with a hug. She laughs, and I feel it vibrate through her whole body. When’s the last time I heard her laugh like this? Probably the first three times I had straight A’s, before she got used to it.

“You didn’t have to buy a cake, mom. We could’ve just….”

“Just nothing.” She pulls back, gripping my shoulders, eyes shining. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this day? 

My throat tightens. I know exactly how long. Every morning she left for work before sunrise. Every night she came home with her back screaming. Every time she smiled through the pain because she didn’t want me to worry.

“I’m going to take care of you very soon,” I tell her, and I mean it with everything in me. “No more double shifts.You’re going to retire early, mom. Let me just graduate and get a job, mom.That’s my dream.”

She waves me off, but I can see the tears she’s fighting. “One thing at a time. First, let’s celebrate. Come on, make a wish and cut the cake.”

I laugh, moving toward the table. The cake is beautiful;white frosting and pink roses. It probably cost her a fortune.

“Okay, okay. I’m wishing.”

I close my eyes. Please let me make her proud,let me become an adult  and  earn enough to give her the life she deserves while at it.

I’m about to cut when she gasps.

“Oh God, I forgot the drinks! I bought those fancy sodas you like and I left them at Tyler’s store. He was holding them behind the counter for me.”

“Mom, seriously, we don’t need…”

But she’s already grabbing her purse, heading for the door with that determined stride.

“Two minutes! The store’s right on the corner. June Harper, don’t you dare cut that cake without me !”

The door closes.

I stand there, smiling at the cake.

Two minutes pass,  five and then fifteen! Only God knows where and what this woman is up to. She obviously can’t forget that we have a cake to battle. 

I check my phone. Nothing! I glance at the door, then back at the cake. Tyler’s store is literally on the corner, it’s just a few minutes walk. She should’ve been back by now.

Fifteen minutes!

I tried calling her. It rings once,then goes to voicemail. “Mom, where are you? Call me back.”

Twenty minutes?

My stomach starts to twist. This isn’t like her.

I grab my jacket and head for the door.

The evening air is cool against my face as I jog toward the corner.Tyler’s store is right there, the  “OPEN” sign buzzing in the window. But as I get closer, I notice something is wrong.

There’s a crowd gathered on the street. People standing in clusters, whispering and pointing. Beyond them, I see the flashing lights;red and blue, painting the buildings in violent streaks of color.

An ambulance and police cars. Yellow tape stretched across the crosswalk.

And my legs move faster.

“What happened?” I ask a woman standing at the edge of the crowd.

“Accident,” she says, shaking her head. “Hit and run.”

Oh! Then where is mom? I’m struggling to get into the middle of the crowd and I suddenly spot a phone that looks like mom’s. What could her phone be doing lying on the floor?

It can’t be…. Enough with your negative thoughts, June! And right now, the word hits me like a fist to the chest.

I push through the crowd, my heart hammering so hard I can hear it in my ears. The police are directing people back, telling everyone to move along.

Broken glass scattered across the asphalt.

A single shoe lying on its side near the curb.

And there, just beyond the yellow tape, illuminated by the flashing lights; a brown purse.

My mother’s brown purse!

The one with the broken zipper she refused to replace because “it still works fine.”

“No.” The word comes out strangled, barely a whisper.

“Miss, you can’t be here…”

“That’s my mother’s purse!” I’m screaming now, “that was her phone! Where is she? Where is she?”

“Miss, there was an accident. You can’t be here.”

And somewhere in the distance, an ambulance siren wails, carrying her farther and farther away from me.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

The world tilts.

I stare at the purse and the phone,the broken glass catching the red and blue lights.

“Miss, you need to leave.”

This doesn’t make sense. Mom just left. She was just here,smiling and happy.

“I need to see her.” My voice sounds distant like it’s coming from someone else. “I need to see my mom!”

Time splinters into shards of memory, the harsh fluorescent lights, linoleum floors sticky under my shoes, a waiting room that smells like disinfectant and a doctor with kind eyes and a terrible mouth.

“I’m sorry. We did everything we could.”

Rain streaks down the chapel windows, blurring the world outside into watercolor grief. I sit in the front pew in a black dress, staring at the casket covered in white lilies.

Coworkers from the restaurant cry quietly, touching my shoulder, murmuring words of how great my mother was but none of it changes the fact that I am alone! The thought sits in my chest like a stone.

As the crowd parts I see him.

He stands at the back of the chapel, rain-soaked and disheveled, like he ran here from somewhere far away in his wrinkled and loosened tie. 

His face is wrecked when our eyes meet across the empty pews and something inside me breaks open. I burst out into tears. Then he moves fast  with none of the composed control I know so well and his face crumples as he reaches me.

“June,” he chokes out. “June, I’m….God, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

And then his arms are around me as I’m collapsing into him with my knees giving out, but he holds me up.

“I should have been here sooner,” he’s saying, his voice breaks against my hair. “I was in …., but I should have……I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

I have a lot to say but I can only sob into his chest, clutching his jacket.

“She’s gone,” I finally gasp. She…she…she’s gone just like that.”

“I know.” His voice cracks completely. “I know, honey. I know.”

He’s crying too and I can feel his tears falling into my hair, can feel him shaking with the force of his grief.

“You’re not alone,” he whispers fiercely, pulling back to cup my face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away my tears even as his own fall unchecked. “Do you hear me, June? You will never be alone. I’ve got you.”

Dad’s hands are now in his pockets, shoulders hunched like he’s bracing for a blow. 

“About your living situation.”

 “What about it?”

“The apartment lease is in your mother’s name. The landlord already called, he said you have two weeks to vacate.”

As if mom’s death was not enough to punish me. What exactly did I do wrong? Why is the world this cruel to me? 

“I’ll figure something out. Get a part-time job, find a cheaper place and ….”

“JUNE!” 

He looks at me properly for the first time, and I see something that might be regret in his eyes. I really shouldn’t care about that, maybe it’s all an act.

“You can’t legally rent an apartment and  you need to finish high school.”

“So what?”

 He takes a breath.

 “You’re coming to live with me at the Kingsley’s.”

“You can’t be serious. You’ve been gone for how many  years and you suddenly want to play dad?”

“I know I have no right to ask but June, I’m your father and I…” 

He stops, struggles with whatever he wants to say.

Mr. Kingsley has offered to sponsor your education. There’s this private school, I’m sure you’ve heard of Belmont. Full scholarship.”

“The same Belmont?”