My heart started to pound as she cheerfully tossed coupons and menus onto the counter. I glanced at Chad as he walked shirtless into the kitchen and zipped up his pants before he sat down at the table. I looked back at my mom; still gleefully looking for a deathcertificate.
“She’s looking for a death certificate for her son,” I repeated to Chad and looked athim.
He looked unamused and notsurprised.
“I can help you,” I offered. “Um, what’s the name that should be onit?”
“Ryan.” I stared at her. “RyanHudson.”
She thought I was dead. I leaned against the counter and moved menus around. No words came to my mind, but my stomach hurt. That deep ache was back. The one I had always known. The one Russell said he could take away intime.
“How did he die?” my brotherasked.
It was clear to me that he had heard this story a number of times and was playing along with her to make me feel worse than I alreadyhad.
“Stop,Chad.”
“Chad remembers how he died,” my mommuttered.
I looked at Chad. She knew who he was, but not me. Because I was gone and had apparently died. If I had been here, would she rememberme?
“What happened to Ryan, Elizabeth?” Chadpushed.
Through gritted teeth I practically begged him to stop encouragingthis.
“There had been an accident,” she casually said as she begun a new stack of take-out menus and coupons in search of a death certificate that didn’texist.
“Where was the accident?” Chadasked.
“The trainyard.”
Jesus fucking Christ. I leaned against the kitchen counter for support and looked out of the window into the backyard where I used toplay.
“Did Dad take him to work thatday?”
My mom suddenly threw the stack of papers everywhere in the kitchen, causing me to turnaround.
“It wasn’t your father’s fault!” she screamed atChad.
This was just too fucking much. Chad needed to knock it the fuck off. She had been calm and happy. Now she was enraged andunpredictable.
“I don’t know, Elizabeth. It seems like a little kid shouldn’t have been on dangerous train tracks alone.” Chad knew what he could say that would be used as bait. I hated him somuch.
“You know, it had been an accident, Chad.” My mom turned to face me. She was looking right at me. How could she not see that it was me? “Ryan was hit by a train. I went to the train yard as soon as I heard, but they wouldn’t let me go back to the scene.” She began to rummage in anotherdrawer.
“Who called you?” Chad askedher.
“Your father, Chad. You know thisstory.”
“He called Elizabeth from the train yard to tell her that her Ryan died.” Chad grinned at me, as if this was a fucking game to him. “Ryan was eight. Little fuck was playing on the tracks and fell. Got his shoe stuck and pow!” We glared at each other. “You remember the train yard, don’t you, Ry?” hesnarled.
“The newspaper wouldn’t let me put an obituary out until I could show a death certificate. When I find it, I can send them a copy and they can put it in the paper,” Mom carriedon.
I had to get out of there as fast as I could. It was draining me of all energy. I began to pick up the menus and coupons that had scattered on the floor and listened to my mom and Chad have a repulsive conversation about her deadson.
Hours went by and again I found myself irritated as they bickered over a box of fucking DVDs. I finally got fed up as the clock neared 4:00 and went over to the coffee table. I picked up one of the DVDs and read the words faded in purple marker: Ryan Dec/1990. I tossed it down and grabbed another: Ryan Oct/1994.Fuck.
“Elizabeth, you can’t take these,” Chadsaid.
