Gravity

I have yet to open my eyes. For now, I’ll let every sense other than sight take over. The wind, like an intruder, fills my ears, stealing the sounds of traffic from my mind. Hot concrete sits under my feet, hardened by the weight of others who have come before me. I breathe in the smell of the city’s occupants, a mixture of restaurants and sewage. My mouth tastes metallic. I loosen my jaw, releasing the tension that drew blood from my gums. One, two, three. I open my eyes. 

As the sun descends, I look down at the city. Everything appears so small, so meaningless. People taking on the form of ants busily going from one point to another. I wonder if they can see me. I wonder if anyone ever sees me. The sound of a car horn interrupts my thoughts. I don’t have time for this. I take a step and another until my toes are flirting with the boundary placed to keep things in, which stands no chance with me. I take a deep breath and give in, to gravity, to physics, to the inevitable conclusion of my story. 

I jump.

I feel my father’s hands, steadying me as I push one pedal in front of the other. I beg him not to let go, but he encourages me to keep going, to face my fears. I am six years old, and my biggest fear is a scraped knee. “Honey, I believe in you. You’ve got this.” He lets go and the wind is pushing back my hair. With each push of the pedal, fear falls away. I smile. I cry. But I do it.

My mother’s voice comes next. She wipes a tear from my cheek, places a kiss on my head, and tells me about the first time she had her heart broken. Her vulnerability brings me comfort. I have friends whose parents seem like aliens, but not my mom. If her life were a book, it wouldn’t be a diary that was locked away for her eyes only. She has never been afraid to tell her story if it meant that it could help someone else. I reach for her hand, but just as quickly as she appeared, she disappears. I miss her. I ache for her.

My brother starts screaming. Where is he? I find him hiding under his bed. The monsters are back and I can see how terrified he is. I crawl under his bed. I don’t say a word. I don’t tell him monsters aren’t real. I just lie beside him and place my hand in his. Sometimes you don’t need someone to fix everything. Sometimes you just need someone to stay.

My mother is laughing now. My dad is taking forever to decide his next move. My brother and I are antagonizing him. “Come on Dad, just decide already!” Hot chocolate keeps my hands warm while snow falls outside. Pieces of wrapping paper are scattered under the tree and our home fills with the aroma of Mom’s cinnamon rolls in the oven. I’m happy. Playing games with my family. Seeing my parents tease each other and flirt like teenagers. My dad finally makes his move and it’s over for him. My brother’s turn is next and with one move he knocks my dad out of the game. The room explodes in laughter. My dad falls to the ground as if my brother just shot him. My brother jumps on him, and I follow. My mom sits back with her coffee and pretends to be annoyed, but gives in, like she always does, and jumps in too. I don’t want to leave this room. I don’t want to leave them.

I hear a knock, but I won’t answer it. I’ve been here before, every night for the past six months, to be exact. Maybe if I don’t answer the door, they’ll be the ones to leave tonight instead. I yell, “Go AWAY.” But the knocks keep getting louder. I won’t do it. I won’t open the door. My blood feels like lava, burning through my veins. My heart races, my legs start to shake, sending my body into convulsions. “GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY!” I hear the key click. How? How do they have a key? No, no, no, this isn’t happening. I use all my might to move the entry table in front of the door, creating a barricade. The door opens anyway. My eyes meet theirs. I know the look. I know what they’re about to say. I cover my ears, but the words, even muffled, still come.

“Your father, mother, and brother were struck by a…”

  Screaming, I cut them off. “I SAID GO AWAY!” I don’t want this to happen. I’m so tired of this happening. I open the door and run. I run so fast that I can no longer see the house. The street is disappearing, my lungs are burning, my body is fighting.

I’m jolted back to reality as each second pulls me closer to the ground. Three seconds is all it takes. Two seconds in, I take a deep breath, open my eyes, and see that the ants are humans. Humans going about their day. A couple walking hand in hand across the street, a mother screaming for her kids to stop running, and a woman jogging through a crowd of strangers. I wonder if they can see me now. I wonder if they’ll notice me in a second. I hear a scream. A stranger’s eyes fill with terror as they take off running towards me. I’m confused. Are they running towards me? Why? 

What did I just do? I try to pull myself back, undo the last two seconds. I scream with all that I have, but I stand no chance against gravity, against physics, against my inevitable conclusion. The sun is disappearing, my lungs are burning, my body is fighting. If I close my eyes, maybe this last second won’t happen. 

They saw me.