Mending a Broken Heart

TILLIE

“Oh, crap.” I exhaled to myself. “Not again.”

The red and blue lights blinked through the windows at the top of the garage roller door, and I figured the cops were here to talk to the neighbors again. Mr. and Mrs. Wickham’s son, Garry, had been on and off drugs for the last four years and was visited by the Denver police every other week.

I felt sorry for his parents having to deal with Garry’s struggles––replacing the things he stole from houses around the neighborhood and bailing him out of jail. They were good, kind people who were always polite to my sister, Kelly and me, and I truly felt sorry for them.

Garry and I used to go to school together. We had the same math and science classes and even hung out with the same friends. That was until the tenth grade when he fell into the wrong crowd, hanging out with kids from the other schools that were always getting into some kind of trouble.

That was around the same time my parents forbade me from seeing him. They were scared I would fall for a guy like Garry and wind up living a similar lifestyle. But any romantic feelings––which was only ever a silly teenage crush––vanished when I saw the kind of guy he turned into. Addiction took over his life and I didn’t want that life to be mine. I had always hoped he would get the help he needed, but he just never did.

It was Friday night and I was alone in the house. My friends wanted to hang out at the lookout but I wasn’t in the mood to socialize. I never did when inspiration to paint hit me. Mom and dad had their weekly date and my younger sister, Kelly, was sleeping over at her friend’s place, celebrating Bridget’s birthday, having a movie marathon of Freddy Krueger. Horror films weren’t my go to genre, but if I were going to watch one, then Freddy would be at the top of the list.

Our quiet garage was my solace, the best place to allow creativity to flourish. I could spend hours alone here, hunkered down with a brush in one hand and a palette board in the other.

I tried to focus on the painting in front of me, the piece my sister begged me to make to hang in her bedroom. It was a realistic image of a sunset in The Bahamas, a place she’s always wanted to travel to. Music blared on my headphones while I used gentle strokes on the canvas to recreate the image I’d been working on for almost fifty hours this month already. My wrists were becoming sore and tense, but I was so engrossed in the painting I kept powering through––until I saw the constant strobe of lights outside.

Since I knew flashing lights were going to be a distraction, I figured it would be a good time to head to the kitchen, grab a bottle of water and a light snack. Just then my stomach roared at me. Yes, it was definitely time for a break.

I removed my headphones and pushed them down onto my shoulders, then headed through the garage door, yawning out the tiredness from my body. I took the last two vegetable spring rolls from the now cool bag resting in the microwave. I had ordered them from our local Thai restaurant earlier but wasn’t quite hungry yet. I was starving now and couldn’t wait another minute to bite into one of my favorite snacks.

Just as I was savoring the first taste, the doorbell rang. I set the food down and dusted my hands before I bolted to the door, trying to quickly swallow what I had in my mouth. I felt the thick dried paint on my fingers crumble as I turned the door knob. “Did you forget your keys again?” Instead of seeing my parents, there were two police officers standing side by side. They took a small step back as soon as I filled the doorway. “If you’re looking for the Wickhams, they’re next door.”

“Sorry, Miss, but is this the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Prentiss?” The bold police officer questioned. He kinda reminded me of my dad who’d gotten early onset baldness and decided to shave it so no one would figure it out.

I hesitated to reply, “Yeah…”

“And are you their daughter?” the same guy asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s me.”

The two officers snuck a quick glance at each other before the second guy spoke. “My name is Alex and this is my partner, John.” Both pulled out their ID to show me and I glanced at it thoroughly. “Do you mind if we come inside and talk?”

“No.” My vision blurred as I shook my head. The blood in my veins ran cold till it turned to ice. A deep voice inside my head told me something wasn’t right. “You can talk to me here.”

Alex cleared his throat. “Miss, we regret to inform you that at 8:55 p.m., the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Prentiss were found by a passing motorist. I’m afraid your parents were involved in a collision with a suspected drunk driver.”

My hands fell to my side. “I’m sorry, did you say their bodies?”

“Yes, Miss.” John said. There was a haunting look in his eyes that was a reflection of his partners.

“They’re dead?”

John hacked his throat and nodded. “Yes, Miss.”

My eyes burned. I stared at their mouths and watched them move as they talked, but I couldn’t hear their words. The only sound I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears. Time slowed down and I felt like I was going to pass out. “I’m sorry. Are you sure you’ve got the right house? You usually go to the place next door. The Wickhams.” I glanced down at my watch and noticed how late it was. I didn’t realize I’d spent so much time in the garage and it didn’t hit me that mom and dad weren’t home yet. I tried to blink the tears away but all I could focus on was trying to stop myself from collapsing and throwing up. My fingers dug into the frame of the door as I tried to remain standing. My legs felt as if they weighed a ton and all I wanted to do was sink to the floor. “No, this can’t be right. You’re supposed to go next door. You’ve made a mistake coming here.”

“I’m sorry, Miss, but we’ve found your parents’ belongings and the car was registered to them,” John said. “Their IDs were on them as well.”

“No.” I refused to believe it, feeling my throat slam shut and tears pool in my eyes. “My parents aren’t dead. You’re at the wrong house,” I wept. “Please tell me you’re at the wrong house.”

“Miss, is there anyone you’d like us to call?” Alex checked. “Any family or friends?”

I didn’t have any other siblings, and Uncle Ash, mom’s brother, was on vacation in Europe though we rarely saw him anyway. Kelly was with her friends and I wasn’t ready to explain to my little sister that our parents were gone. I wanted her to let her live just a bit longer without the pain. “Someone just found them like that?”

“Yes, Miss. We believe the other vehicle swiped their car and they went over the cliff. The motorist noticed the screeching tire marks and followed it, eventually finding them,” Alex said so casually. “If it provides you with any comfort, it appears they died on impact.”

“Well, isn’t that such a huge relief,” I said sarcastically. “No, sir, I can’t say that provides me with any kind of relief.”

I didn’t mean to sound snarky because the police officers were just doing their job, but all I could think about now was Kelly and what would happen to her. She was just fourteen and my kid sister.

This must have been all a dream. I probably fell asleep in the garage on the couch and this was a nightmare. That had to be it. I slapped my face to wake myself up but instead I felt the deep sting, burning my cheek. I realized it wasn’t a dream.

“Miss, are you okay?” Their voices were muffled by the sound of my own panic as I felt the anxiety start to take over my body. . My hold on the doorframe loosened as my body swayed. My vision blurred but I recognized that Alex took a hold of me to stop me from falling. Both cops guided me into the house and then into the lounge room where they sat me down on one of the leather seats.

Was this what a panic attack felt like? Because I’m quite certain this was one––either that or my body is giving out on me.

“Miss, you’re going to have to identify their bodies once they’re taken to the morgue,” John said as he placed his hand on my shoulder. The bile in my throat was like a volcano, about to erupt, but I managed to swallow it back down, the bitterness coating my tongue before it disappeared.

“I don’t… I don’t even know what to do.”

“We can get someone here to pick you up to take you, and there’s a grief counselor we offer people at times like these who might be able to give you some guidance.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled under my breath, still not able to believe with my whole heart that what these cops had just told me was the truth. “You can go now.”

Alex pulled out something from his pocket and handed it over to me. It was his business card. “We’ll call you tomorrow before we return.”

“Sure,” I said emotionlessly as I looked down at the card which had the Denver Police logo. “Thanks.”

“We’re sorry for your loss,” John said. Their footsteps faded away before the front door closed. I left the business card on the couch and sombered off into the garage, standing in front of the piece I’d spent so much time creating.

The painting was distorted through my tears and yet I criticized every flaw I could see in it. I grabbed the paint tin and threw it against the canvas, ruining the hours of hard workI’d put into it. Ironically, it was red paint I had grabbed. It was like even the painting was mocking me. It looked like blood had splattered everywhere including my hands, and I felt some of it splash on my face. The red hue was smeared over the sunrise, unintentionally making it darker. The image of my parents came to mind and I cried out in pain, the flurry of emotions, releasing from the pit of my stomach, screaming into the air as I collapsed on the concrete floor.

“Please, no! God, please no,” I wept, curling my legs before tucking them into my chest. My head fell between my knees as I mourned the loss of my parents, still in disbelief that they could be gone so suddenly, my entire body feeling the torment.

I never knew one’s heart could break so easily but the pieces of it that surrounded me was evidence of my grief, and I didn’t think I could recover from the pain.

Our lives were going to change forever.