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No real father would stand by and watch his daughter die in his wife’s arms.
No real father would use his daughter’s death as a cudgel to further cow his already kneeling wife.
No decent man would tell her that Ellie’s death was punishment for her failure to give him a son.
And no god worth worshiping would let a child die like that in her mother’s arms if he could save her by simply saying it should be so.
So, God was either not real, or he was powerless and cruel.
Either way, I was done.
I found the lake a few days after we buried Ellie.
He went to town without my mother. She lay in her room and wailed so loudly that I couldn’t stand it. I’d started running and ended up in the forest behind our house. I ran farther than I ever had before. Farther than I knew I was allowed.
I found the chain-link fence that served as a border to our town. And right where I stopped, there was a break in the links that pulled apart, and I crawled through to the other side.
I walked through a cornfield until I reached the forest that hides the lake from view.
Now, every day while my stepfather is in one of his leadership meetings, between the hours of two to four, I come here.
Every day the adventures of Bilbo Baggins chase away the living, endless nightmare of my life.
It’s the closest thing I feel to what I imagine heaven is like. And today, my little slice of heaven got even better.
The girl who literally fell from the sky is the first person who’s not from here that I’ve actually ever spoken to since we moved here ten years ago.
She’s already taught me something I didn’t know. I thought her smiling was weird, but it’s nice to have someone not be angry or sad at the sight of me.
It makes me feel warm, like the sun shining on me.
I can’t remember the last time my own mother smiled at me. She’s barely spoken a word since Ellie died.
Before, she told me stories of our life before she married him and moved us here. She told me about the buildings in the big city and how they rose up and disappeared into the clouds.
She told me that there were entire buildings full of books, that you could walk in and read anything they had on their shelves. Even if you didn’t have any money.
She talked about us going to see all those things one day and then she just stopped.
All I had left is my book. All my hope, happiness, and motivation bound together and held together inside those pages.
Until today.
Today, I made a friend, and tomorrow, we’re meeting at the lake. She’s bringing me more books, and I’m going to get to read them.
I look up, and the moon is clearer than I remember it ever being. I stare up at her, and for the first time in my life, I feel like she’s looking at me, too.
Hope
Apollo
“Tante Isabel, I’m going now.” I have one foot out the door as I watch my aunt warily for signs that she heard me. When she doesn’t respond, I walk back to the table where she’s sitting and wave a hand in front of her face.
“Tante,” I repeat, but I don’t bother to raise my voice. It wouldn’t matter. When she’s sculpting, she can’t see anything else. Maman used to sa
y that it’s what made her so wonderful and terrible at the same time.
I think she’s wonderful all the time. Even though she overreacts. Like she did yesterday when I got back home. Maybe I should have left out the part about Graham having to save me from the lake.
