I Love You

         “Arionna Rose Gonsalves, don’t you dare leave this house acting like that, do you hear me?” Of course I heard her, there was no way I couldn’t have heard her.  My mother’s voice echoed off the walls of our small two bed, two bath apartment as if she were yelling into a megaphone.

 “I said, did you hear me?”

Without responding, I grudgingly turned on my heels so that my body faced hers, yet due to my angsty, I’ve-got-life-all-figured-out-so-I-don’t-need-you, attitude I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact. Instead, I looked directly past her towards the large mirror that covered the length of the living room wall.

In it I saw a girl not much older than thirteen. She was thin and somewhat gangly. Her small fists were clenched so tightly that I could see the whites of her knuckles shining through her caramel skin. Her eyes were red and puffy and tears smeared her small oval face. Those same eyes glared at me with an anger that caused her whole body to tremble. I could see her chest rise and fall in a manner that was less than rhythmic, with a face that bore an expression similar to that of a child being told, “No.”

 “I said, did you hear me?” she reiterated.

I turned my gaze from my twin in the mirror and finally meet eye-to-eye with my mother. The phrase, “If looks could kill”, was more evident in this very moment than it had ever been in my life previously. Those eyes of hers were wild and untamed, they seemed to scream at me, chastising me for my every action. Looking at those predator-like eyes made my insides twist and knot into elaborate shapes and designs of unrelenting fear. My eyes quickly darted to the ground beneath my feet to escape her lethal glare.

“Life is too unpredictable to leave home angry, Arionna. Once you step out that door, you have no say in what may happen to you, no idea whether today may be your last. I won’t always be here, but while I am, I want you to always remember my words and to tell me that you love me.” Gentle hands then cupped my face with a touch so soft and warm, like how I imagined a cloud would be. She tilted my face up towards hers and our eyes met once more. This time they were filled with a compassionate love that ran so deep, it seemed to embrace my entire body from head-to-toe. My eyes tactfully scanned every inch of her face, memorizing every detail, while my mind began replaying old memories of us together, laughing, hugging, talking, and just being at peace in each other’s presence. I could feel a sudden waterfall of warm tears begin to pour from my eyes and down my face.

“I love you”, I said in a hushed voice.

 A smile as warm as the sun stretched out across her face, “I love you too, Ari.”

It has been six years since that day and I am still able to recall the memory of my mother’s heartfelt words as her soft hands held my face. Yet with age, comes the tribulation of life’s great many burdens. For me, life has been all but easy-going these past few months and as the days press onward, I cling to those words as if they were my life raft in the middle of a raging storm. They bring a small sense of hope to my dismal existence, a hope that whispers to me ever so softly, telling me that everything will be alright. Even though the world seems dark and bleak, there is always a light at the end of the tunnel. And that very same light, that hope, would be the thing that gives me strength to deal with the tragedy that is my aunt’s stage four breast cancer.

            As I walk through the crowded, teen-filled halls of my high school, my thoughts begin to race to the day when I was first told of my aunt’s breast cancer and how my face turned a bright red as I struggled to breath in enough oxygen to fill my impatient lungs while they frantically screamed out, “You’ll be fine, you will! Trust me, you have to trust me, okay?” Back then it was easy to believe the lie, to believe that things were just as they’d always been, but now I struggle to even formulate the possibility of an everyday, normal life with her. The very thought of the word “normal” made my entire body shake and my blood boil to the point of near explosion. ‘Why can’t I have any normalcy in my life? Why do I have to go through this? Why is she putting me through this? Why didn’t she get checked when she noticed something was wrong? Why did she wait until it was this bad?’

 These were the questions that burned into my heart, leaving scars as they cooled.

I could feel the tears beginning to correspond with the anger that was building up inside me, threatening to overflow. I never intended to feel this way, never wanted to ever be angry at her for something she had no control over. Yet here I was, standing in the middle of a crowded hall, bursting at the seams with a plethora of emotions all screaming at me, telling me how to feel, how to think, how to be. I felt so overwhelmed, like I was spiraling down into a dark pit with no way out, no sign of life or source of light. I felt alone.

 “Um, excuse me.” An unfamiliar voice called out to me, rescuing me from the darkness that I was encased in.

“I need to get to class and you’re in my way.” The particularly annoyed voice belonged to a small brown-haired, doe-eyed girl.

 “Sorry” I said, though my voice reflected none of the intended sorrow.

As I let the small brown-haired girl pass me to live her seemingly “normal” life, I too resumed my hectic, tornadic-like existence, wishing for some sense of serenity. Later that same week, I had received a phone call from my mother explaining how she was going to visit my aunt in Virginia and how she thought it would be great for both her and I if I came along.

 “She’ll be so happy to see you, won’t you come visit?” My mother asked with the upmost sincerity.

The question sent waves of paralyzing chills down my spine and left me baffled in a fog of fear and concern. ‘Can I do it?’ I thought to myself. ‘Can I really watch her pained and bedridden as if nothing were wrong?

 “Yeah, I’ll come” I said hiding my reluctance behind a smile.

 I loved my aunt, but the pain of seeing her in her current state hurt worse than any wound. Yet despite the fear and the pain that raged on inside me, I felt compelled to go, as if there was some higher force watching out for me, instructing me to. As if it knew something I didn’t.

 “That’s great, I’ll call her tonight and tell her the good news. We’ll probably leave towards the end of the month, okay?”

 “Okay mom, sounds like a plan.” I replied hastily.

 Once I hung up the phone, I began mentally preparing myself for the emotional journey that loomed in front of me like a dark and ominous cloud threatening to bring the king of all storms.

            During the month of September, my mother and I drove the three hours to reach the Richmond Cancer Center where my aunt was hospitalized. The ride down was a pleasant one. The warm and gentle winds seemed to coddle me as it blew in through the open windows, singing to me softly as it breezed by my ears. The sun’s rays peered through the cluster of clouds crowding the sky in various different locations creating a sort of spotlight effect on everything it touched. I looked out through the window towards the miles of vibrant, green rolling hills before us and I let my mind wonder and escape into a world of its own.

I pretended that our 2008 Ford Escape was no longer a simple land bound vehicle, but instead a vast and mighty ship and the rolling hills beside me turned into great evergreen waters with no end in sight. In my mind, we sailed through these infinite seas just listening to the sounds of birds and waves that my mind conjured up, giving a more realistic touch to my imaginary world.  In this moment, life was simple, it was easy. There was no here nor there, no right or wrong, no happiness or sorrow, just the simplicity of a young girl’s will to imagine a world far away from this one. Where she could captain the grandest ship that ever sailed the seas of her imagination.

Oh how such a simple phrase as, “We’re here”, could break the fortitude of the world I had created. I was instantly thrust back into reality as those words exited my mother’s mouth. Time which had all but stopped, seemed to move at lighting speed as I exited the car towards the structure that housed my aunt. To me, those buildings looked like a monstrous collection of sentinels watching my every move. I could hear their heavy rhythmic breathing as the automatic doors opened and closed with a terrifying whoosh. Those big glass doors were more like two giant teeth welcoming me into the belly of the beast. I watched my mother as she entered its mouth with no hesitation. I knew that I too had to enter this frightening creature in order to reach my beloved aunt. So I did, one foot at a time. I walked through its mouth, feeling its cold, harsh breath on my face as I made my way through to the inside.

As I entered the mouth of the beast, we were greeted by an overly, friendly nurse who spoke in a rather annoyingly, chipper voice. We wordlessly listened to the sound of her near ear-splitting, high-pitched squeaking as she gleefully directed us towards the floor and suite where my aunt stayed. With faces composed of pure agony for the god-awful noise that exited her mouth, we followed her every instruction and made our way to the top floor of the building on the east side, where the cancer patients were housed.

As we neared our destination, I could feel my hands begin to moisten and twitch in the pockets that contained them. Thoughts of my sickly aunt began to run circles through my mind, leaving skid marks on my brain as they sharply turned left then right, up then down, here then there, crashing through all the wild and absurd scenarios my mind had created.

            Finally we had arrived. I stood face-to-face with the once brown, but now ugly shade of beige, door. My hand slowly rose to meet the cool, metallic feel of the handle as I turned it ever so cautiously. Terrified of what awaited me beyond, I carefully peered through the door as it slowly opened, and to my amazement, the room was far from what I imagined it to be. My mind had created an image of a bleak and dismal atmosphere filled with people just waiting for death. Yet, this place was filled with laughter from the young and the old, the sick and the healthy. The walls were painted a pretty pastel pink and purple and stick-on butterflies covered nearly every square inch of visible surface, including desks, chairs, tables, and even the doors to the patient’s rooms. There was a large family area that had an assortment of toys and games laid out neatly on a carpeted, blue floor. While the large flat screen television played re-runs of Spongebob Squarepants for a small group of wide-eyed children seated in front of it. In my complete astonishment, I realize that my facial expression resembled that of one of the shows main characters, Patrick Star. With a mouth hung wide open and eyes as big as saucers, he and I could have practically been twins. I continued to scan the joyous atmosphere until a pleasant voice called out to me from behind a large wooden desk.

“Hi, is there anything I can help you with?”

 “Yes, we are here to see Pamela Colman”, my mother replied smoothly as she wrote our names down on the sign-in sheet.

 “Oh yes of course, she’s been talking about you two for quite some time now. She’s in the third room to your left, just remember to knock first.”

We did as she instructed and followed the hallway to the third door on our left. On it was a name plate that read, “Pamela Colman” on a small white piece of paper, written with what seemed like a blue sharpie.

            “This is it”, I thought to myself. I raised my fist and slowly knocked on the door. The faintest of voices called out to me from behind it, “Come in” it said. I took a deep, steading breath and opened the door.

 “Hello!” called the small voice followed by a thin trail of laughter.

 “Hi, Aunty Pam”, I called back.

Every ounce of fear and doubt I had harbored in my chest and vanished completely the moment I saw her face. It shined with the same old beauty and grace that it always had and yet there was something different, something new about it that I had not seen before. It was as if the sense of maturity and loving kindness were permanently etched into the features of her thinning face.

            “I’ve missed you!” she exclaimed.

            “We’ve missed you to, Aunty Pam.” I replied in a rather joyous voice.

            “Hi, Pam, how are you?” my mother asked as stepped out from behind my shadow.

            “I’ve been good” she replied warmly.

From then on we talked and laughed for days without a care in the world. We talked about our lives and how I was doing in school, my mother with her job, and Aunty Pam with her chemo. For the first time in a long time, I felt normal. Before I knew it, it was nearing the end of our visit, only one day left before we would make the journey back home.

“I’ll be back shortly, I have go run some errands, okay?” my mother said as she waved goodbye to both my aunt and I.

The door closed behind her with an audible thud which also doubled as a cue for my aunt to begin her elaborate series of light-hearted questions

“So you said that your homecoming dance is right around the corner, right? Who are you going with? Is he cute? How tall is he? What is he like? Is he nice?” She asked with a grin so wide it seemed to split her face from ear-to-ear.

“He’s this guy I met not too long ago during class. He’s really nice and sweet and tall and really, really cute.” I replied in a rather giggly voice while attempting to obscure my face behind a curtain of my own thick curly, brown hair in order to hide my ever-growing rosy cheeks.

“Are you two going to wear matching outfits?” She asked with the same intensity.

“No, I’m not sure what he’s wearing, but I’ve got this really flowy, pink dress I picked out and it goes so well with my heels.”

“You, in a pink dress? I have to see it to believe it! Oh, Ari, you have to send me pictures.” She exclaimed as her hands clasped together firmly; fingers intertwined, as if she were in prayer.

“Of course I will” I promised.

 We then both giggled at the thought of me, a rowdy tomboy, in a girly pink dress. As I watched my aunt’s face light up with laughter I thought to myself, “This is normal, this is what it normalcy feels like.” My new-found resolution for the word gave me such a sense of ease and comfort. “Maybe things will be alright in the end, maybe everything can actually return to normal.” The thought made me giggle even more in my already euphoric state. But that contentment that I felt was quickly shattered as her laughs turned into grunts of pain. I froze, staring, horrified at the obvious discomfort she was in.

“What do I do?” I franticly asked her.

She didn’t speak, she only shook her head from side-to-side to indicate that I do nothing. Bewildered, by her action, I stood up determined to find help. Just then help answered through a speaker on the wall.

 “Yes Pam, what is it?” I turned towards my aunt to see that she had pressed the red call button that was attached to her bed.

When my aunt didn’t answer her question, I shouted, “Please help, there’s something wrong.”

“I’ll be right there ma’am.” The voice answered back.

In less than a minute, a small team of three nurses entered the room to assist my aunt. I quickly moved to the far corner of the room to give them space. In horror, I watched as they undid her gown, exposing her bare chest, revealing to me her non-existent left breast which had been completely eaten away by the cancer that resided within her. I couldn’t watch anymore. I quickly fled the room, crashing into the door as I struggled to open it. Tears clouded my vision making it hard to see where I was going, but at the same time I had nowhere to go. I walked through the hallway past the big wooden desk, ignoring the stick-on butterflies and the always cheerful family room. I ran through the ugly beige door, stumbling as I went. After several minutes of meandering through desolate halls, I finally collapsed against one of the walls. And for hours, I cried. I cried until my tears ran dry and then I cried some more.

 “Are okay?” A strange woman’s voice called to me.

 I didn’t look up, I just continued my tearless cries.

 “Is something wrong, can I help?”

I didn’t want her help.

 “Do you need someone to talk to?”

“No, just go away”, I wanted to answer, but I didn’t care enough to speak.

 Eventually the mysterious woman gave up trying to help me and went about her life. I remained balled up against the wall laughing at myself for thinking things could go back to the way they were, back to normal. All the anger and pain that once plagued my heart had returned with forceful vengeance. I was angry at my mother for bringing me here, at my aunt for being sick, and at the world for putting me in this situation. For several hours I debated whether or not to go back into the cancer ward. I knew I couldn’t face seeing my aunt again, but I had nowhere else to go. So after an immeasurable amount of time, I had finally reasoned with myself to go back. I eventually stood up on shaky, unreliable legs and made the trek there.

Once I entered the ward I headed straight for the family room thinking I could at least sleep there for the night. Upon entering the room, I ran straight into my mother.

 “Aunty Pam told me what happened.” She said coolly.

 I didn’t respond.

 “She’s better now, if you want to go see her.”

I remained silent.

 I could feel my mother’s eyes digging deep into my skin, but I didn’t care.

 “Ari.” She said in a quiet, yet stern voice.

“Do you remember what I told you all those years ago about never leaving home angry?”

 Her question jolted something deep inside me, a memory perhaps, I wasn’t quite sure, but I looked up at her and our eyes met.

 “You never know what may happen to you once you step out that door, remember?”

 I nodded slowly.

 “Always tell those who are close to you that you love them, Ari. Always.”  

I looked towards the direction of my aunt’s room then back to my mother, who gestured for me go to her. I forcefully made my feet move in the direction of her room and opened the door.

 “Hi” I said to her in a meek voice.

 “Hi” she responded.  

. For the rest of the night we talked about what happened and how it made us feel. She held me tight and we slept side-by-side. When morning finally approached, we once again exchanged hugs and kisses.

 “I love you” I whispered to her softly as she held me close.

 I could practically hear the smile in her voice when she said, “I love you too.”

           

                       .    .     .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .   .    .    .    .

It has been three years since that day, and my aunt has since passed on. She slipped away in her sleep two weeks after my visit. Although it has been a very tough time for me and my family, I am forever grateful that I listened to the wise words of my mother, and went back to spend those ever-so precious moments with aunt, which I will cherish forever. I will always remember to never leave my house angry or without saying goodbye to the ones I love, and neither should you.