After Death 无声告白同人

　　Everyone moved on. It was not to be helped. As time went by, everyone just did, with a sour sting in their chest. Nath did too. That day when he shoved two bottles of whiskey down his throat, the next day when he had finally confronted Jack, when he tried to imagine what Lydia went through as she suffocated in the lake, he knew that everyone would just move on. On that day, the Lees had let out their emotions and said the things that they didn’t say, as if a long coming snow storm had finally settled, sky finally cleared. All the things that pondered inside for so long was channeled out and released into the open air. Their shoulders felt lighter, though their hearts sunk deeper. It made more sense now to cherish each other, and to stop burying everything inside.

　　Before Nath realized it, Marilyn had started cooking again. Imagining the five-year-old Lydia reading her mother’s cook book made her heart melt with regrets. “Why didn’t I see it earlier! That I had been urging Lydia just like my mother did me! Instead of pressing on meeting a man, it was being a doctor.” Marilyn now accepted her life. Indeed, she was not able to fulfill her dreams, but she was blessed with three children. She let one slip away and she was not about to let the other two.

　　James, reminded of how happy he was when Lydia was little, with the weights of expecting greatness and popularity from his children off, could now enjoy the simplicity in his children’s company before they all grow up. He even had bedtime talks with Marilyn about his parents, about how bad he felt that he never wanted to be seen with his parents at Lloyd. His behavior must have cut through their heart, leaving wounds that would never heal. But they didn’t say a thing. Because they understood what it was like to be different and how desperate it was to just yearn for one thing – blending in. They didn’t blame James at all. Part of them felt guilty for putting James through it. With the immerse love and pride for their child, they only blamed themselves for being the wrong color. James, now a mourning father, could taste that guilt. If he hadn’t pressured Lydia so hard on making friends, going to dances, or on influencing people… If only… All that time that he spent hoping for Lydia to be the center of the crowd, the queen of the class, they could have spent doing other things. They could have gone to the movies, gotten ice cream together, and even talked.

　　Hannah had stopped cornering under the dining table, or the closet, or the cupboard. Marilyn wanted to learn about Hannah’s collection of miscellaneous items, about Hannah’s school, about Hannah’s everything. Hannah, enjoying the new found attention from her mother, spoke with words that she did not know she had in her. They had become new best friends, chatting and giggling with girl secrets. It was something that Hannah never even dreamt of. But it was true. Marilyn and Hannah just had so much to talk about. The cook book found its new home in Hannah’s attic. Hannah did not know yet what the book meant to her mother or to her sister. But she knew it was significant and took it from Lydia’s room after Marilyn melted down that day. Marilyn noticed the book in Hannah’s collection, and to Hannah’s surprise, Marilyn did not scold her of touching something that she shouldn’t, she simply said that they would read it together sometime as if it was just another book.

　　Everything was different now. James practically grilled Nath on the upcoming college life and the excitement laid ahead. A million “are you going to do this or that” questions were asked as Nath’s high school diploma was mailed to him, as he was packing for Harvard, as he was about to leave Radcliffe. James even asked about his astronaut obsession, a topic that was avoided at all cost during the last ten years. Through James’ clenching hands against the counter top, the stiffness in his posture, the lowering of his eyes, Nath understood, James was saying a silent “sorry”, sorry that he slapped Nath when Marilyn was gone, sorry that he ignored Nath all these years, sorry that he had not been a father. Nath’s vision blurred by the water in his eyes, his throat choked by the lump now forming inside, his heart beat speeded by merely thinking that the silent word was real and not from his dream. It was long overdue but it was warm and soft. He felt like an infant in mother’s arms, a toddler in father’s hands, vulnerable and happy. The wall bricked up between father and son had magically fallen with the silent word. After Nath regained control of his voice, he started talking about his dreams of being a scientist, of working for NASA, of greatness. Words spat out so fast as if Nath had saved ten years’ worth of speech just for this moment, just for James to stand there with a welcoming smile on his face, with acknowledgement and proud in his eyes, with expectation in his voice.

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