Monday morning
started like any other school day. My
alarm went off, I grabbed my things and headed to the bathroom, wanting to get
there before T.J. As soon as I entered
the living room, my dad, who was sitting in his chair reading the morning
paper, put it down and just looked at me for what seemed like the longest
time. I remember getting a chill from
his extended solemn stare.
Finally, I asked,
“dad, is there something wrong?”
“Come sit down
Anna,” he motioned to the couch next to his chair. “I’m really sorry, I have really bad news.”
The tone of his
voice caused my heart to sink. “What is
it dad?” I asked with dread and foreboding.
My dad had the
paper folded open, and as I sat down, he handed it to me. I knew in an instant what had happened. The article was titled; “Local Artist Dies in
House Fire.” I immediately felt
incredible anxiety welling up inside. My
head was spinning. My heart was pounding,
and I was gasping for breath. At the
same time, I felt an enormous loss. I was angry and confused. I knew this had to be Charlie, that is the
only reason my dad would have given me this article. Why was I so upset? I barely knew Charlie. I had only met him once and still, for some
reason, I felt as horrible as I did when I lost my grandmother five years
before. Was it because of the movie I
just watched? I wanted to run, to scream
and be alone; but, holding back the tears, I continued reading. “Local Artist, Charlie Blackeagle died in a
house fire last night. An unnamed
unofficial source said it looked like a typical chimney fire, but arson had not
been ruled out.” The rest of the article
was unimportant. What was this about arson?
Was Charlie murdered? Was I reading
too much into this? A terrible feeling
of darkness enveloped me.
As I looked up, my
dad was reaching to put his hand on my shoulder, as he said softly; “I’m so
sorry honey.”
I didn’t want to be
touched. Didn’t want to be with
anyone. I threw the paper down, ran to
my bedroom, slammed the door, and fell sobbing on my bed. My mom and dad were good enough to let me
have my space. They knew, or at least
one of them knew I needed to be alone.
After a while, my
feelings started to change. I wondered;
if I was feeling this bad, what was Amanda feeling? I stopped crying enough to call, and picking
up the phone by my bed, dialed her number.
It was busy. Of course, it was
busy. I waited a while and tried
again. Still busy. I tried one more time and it was still
busy. I threw some clothes on and went
to find my dad, who to my astonishment, was sitting in his chair with his boots
on and his coat laying on the couch, like he was waiting to take me someplace.
“Dad, would you
take me to Amanda’s?”
“Yeah, I thought
you might want to go.”
Surprised, I
grabbed my coat and put my boots on and said, “Thanks.”
We didn’t say a
word as we drove to Amanda’s. There were
already a few extra cars when we arrived.
My dad walked up to the house, introduced himself to Amanda’s mom and
dad, and told them how sorry he was. I
then introduced myself and asked if I could see Amanda.
Amanda’s mother,
Stephanie, said; “yes, please come in.
It was good of you to come.
She’ll be glad to see you. Do you
want to come in Mr. Turner?”
My dad just
replied, “no, … no, I’d just be in the way.
I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am and drop Anna off. I’ll come and get Anna when she calls. … I am
really sorry about your loss.”
Stephanie then put
her arm around me, I really didn’t want it there but didn’t want to be rude
either. She led me into the living room
where Amanda was sitting next to an older person who had her arm around Amanda
as she sobbed. As I got closer, Amanda
looked up and ran to me, throwing her arms around me as I threw my arms around
her and we both cried.
I just blubbered;
“I’m so, so, so, sorry,” over and over.
Through her tears
she finally looked up, and just looked at me and said, “thank you.”
We just continued
to hold each other for a while and then D’Lisa came in and hugged and cried
with Amanda. Then Beth and Jason came
in. Beth grabbed Amanda first and hugged
her, then Jason reached out and hugged Amanda.
I could hear him say how sorry he was.
It was really getting crowded in the living room and we finally all went
into the kitchen. The four of us girls
then hugged and cried some more. Jason
was mostly quiet and patient, sitting at the table across from Amanda, with his
hand reaching across the table, holding Amanda’s hand as the rest of us talked
and Jason listened.
Someone brought
some food over, but none of us felt like eating. By evening the family had already arranged
for the funeral on Wednesday. We hugged
and cried a little more and said goodbye.
Jason took both me and D’Lisa home.
My parents were both great. They
gave me a hug, which I was ready for now, and told me how sorry they were. They told me they understood if I didn’t want
to go back to school for a few days and left me alone. That was what I wanted, and think I needed
most. I went almost straight to bed and
lay awake most of the night thinking about Charlie, my life, my grandmother, my
family, and everything that had happened since moving to Logan.
On Tuesday I would
learn that an envelope had come for me while I was at Amanda’s. I’m glad my dad didn’t tell me until
Tuesday. I don’t think I could have handled
both the news about Charlie’s death and the package on the same day.
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