Voiceless

His tiny and lifeless body lies on the cold, wooden floor. My first instinct is to run from the scene, but fear has frozen me in place. My entire body is suddenly stiff as a board. My shoes are made of concrete. Where my legs once were they are now replaced by rubber. My back, straight and tight, is clenching every muscle from the sight. My heart is pounding, racing, thumping with the intensity of a drum. My lungs; burning from the lack of oxygen I can’t seem to find. In the depths of my throat, a blood curdling scream is desperately searching for a release. Tiny beads of sweat form on the back of my neck, starting their slow journey to the collar of my shirt. Fear creeps through my veins like a spider to a wall. Curling my fingers into my hands the clamminess becomes thicker. I Swallow hard tasting nothing but sand in my mouth. I open my mouth to release the scream, but nothing comes out. My eyes, they never leave the figure sprawled across my bedroom floor.

My mind is spinning as the blood rushes away from my head. My vision is blurred and I blink multiple times to try and see through the fog that has suddenly fallen around me. Nausea is consuming and eating away at my stomach as my rubber legs finally give out. I plummet backwards to the floor hitting a wall on my way down. I open my eyes after the impact from the fall subsides and immediately search for his body. He hasn’t moved from the position he was tossed in.

Footsteps are picking up pace and quickly getting close. The grim echoing of my fall bounces from the hallway to my mother in the next room folding laundry.

“Amanda! What was that?! Are you alright?” my mom’s panicked voice echoes back to me.

I open my mouth for a second time, and once again nothing comes out.

My mom finally reaches my room and kneels to my side in one swift and smooth motion.

“What happened? Did you fall?”

All I can do is point. I lift my arm and point a shaky index finger to the lifeless body lying on the floor. My eyes still dead set on him.

Following my finger, my mom looks to the floor and then back at me.

“You have got to be kidding me. You almost gave me a heart attack because of a dead mouse?!” she shrikes. “Get up off the floor and get me a dust pan. Some days I wonder about you, Amanda”.

She raises herself from the floor and extends her arm to help me up. As I head towards the kitchen, I hear the echoes of my mother’s hysterical laughter bouncing between the hallway walls.

Perfection Of Stage Fright

“3 minutes to show time Amanda!” With shaky hands and a racing a heart, I stare at my 3 inch white wedged heels. Standing behind the red velvet curtain, I can hear the applause from the audience on the other side. The Bridal portion of the event just ended, and the junior bridesmaid portion is up next. Along the space between the curtain and the floor, I see the flashing lights from photographers and spectators. My assistant fluffs my seamless, custom made white laced gown, making sure everything looks picture perfect. My make-up and hair stylists are working quickly; making sure nothing was touched while being dressed. My assistant lifts my arms so they are straight out to the sides to make sure no strings are hanging and each bead is in its perfect place. While standing as still as a statue, looking straight ahead, I can’t help but feel the exhaustion of the day. My day had started at 6 am, with a quick bite to eat and off to final fittings and dress rehearsals, making for a long day on the runway.

“2 minutes to show time” Leanne’s voice calls from the left of me. Leanne is the organizer of this event and is here every time I do a show. With her the show always runs perfectly. The stylists have finished putting the touch-ups of lipstick and blush, as well as a thick layer of hairspray to ensure that the bouncy, tight knit curls that took an hour to do keep their hold. My assistant puts a silver hair band on my head to complete the image. It too was custom made to match the dress; it mimics the beading on the gown to a tee. My long red hair hits my nearly bare freckled shoulder. The entire gown is being held up by two small straps that lie perfectly straight on either shoulder. My assistant lowers my arms and runs her hands along the thin straps as her finishing touch to her inspection. She then steps back to make sure she didn’t miss anything. Perfection.

“One minute”, Leanne announces, this time from directly behind me. “You are a vision in white. As soon as you walk through that curtain, all eyes are on you. You are in fashion, so they are judging what you look like but most importantly what you are wearing. Perfection is our expectation and we will accept nothing less”, my instructor’s voice repeats over and over in my head. Shoulders back, chest forward, and no smiling. Keep looking straight and above the audience, maybe then the nausea I’m feeling won’t get any worse.

“30 seconds”. The make-up and hair stylists vanish from my sight. “20 seconds”. More girls line up behind me in white gowns tailored to fit their specific bodies perfectly. The curtain is about to swing open as the room of eager brides and their families are waiting for the newest styles to take center stage. I dread this part. I dread the eyes looking at me, so many staring and judging my every move, the thought is perfectly terrifying.

“It’s show time!” she says softly to the right of me as the curtain splits down the middle and opens from the left and right in perfect sequence with the music. The cameras start to flash from every angle, the audience roars with a fierce intensity and all at once my heart stops. All those eyes are looking at me. All those people judging me. There has to be at least 100 sets. I take a deep breath, and start down the runway, thinking to myself this will all be over soon. Maybe this time I’ll get over this stage fright that I have developed from this so-called ‘perfect career’. A twitch of doubt runs through my body. Yea, I didn’t think so...

Beauty is not an apperance, but a state of mind

I’m so mad I could throw the phone out the window! The rage racing through my veins is inevitable. I can’t sit in one spot. I need to walk, pace, even stand. Anything would be better than sitting. With the phone in my right hand and my left hand on my hip, I don’t bother hiding my anger when he answers the phone. I dive right in as soon as he answers with ‘Hello’.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU TOLD THEM! YOU HAD NO RIGHT!”

“Why shouldn’t I have?”

Men. And they say women are complicated. Jeez! I squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to stifle my anger, all the while pinching the bridge of my nose with my left thumb and index finger.

“Because it is something PERSONAL! It wasn’t meant for anyone else to hear. This is between you and me.”

“Well Hun, I don’t want to scare you but there is potential to be a big problem and we care about you.”

Always worrying. Assuming there is a problem when there isn’t. I know they care but sometimes they should just mind their own business. The phone is pressed against my right ear so tightly it seems to be radiating heat.

“I have always been small though! Look at my past. You have known me for six years! You know better than anyone that I have always been small and I’m healthy. There is no problem here. I’m not sure how many times I have to tell you.”

“Hun, I know you’ve always been small... I can’t change that... I’m just worried about you getting too small... you’ve been losing weight slowly since the summer started this year.”

It takes all the effort I have to keep my voice calm and level. I release the grip I made on the bridge of my nose and open my eyes. I just want his apology and for this to be over with. I hate fighting...

“I’m not going to get too small. I’m doing what I can to stay healthy. I’m taking my vitamins the doctor requested; I’m exercising and eating right. The rest is just the way I am Hun. I’m not going to get smaller.”

“You better not... just please follow what I wrote... otherwise you are going to get stuck in something that’s almost impossible to get out of”

If only I could see his face, if I could see his emotions. It would make this so much easier. He wrote out everything I should eat and when I should eat. I know it’s because he cares, but this might be taking it to a whole other level. I just want to stop arguing...

“I’m doing the best I can Hun.”

“That’s all I ask... I just want you to be healthy, but the way things appear to be going if it stays like that you may not be healthy much longer and I don’t want that to happen to you... I love you”

Damn, he said those words that literally takes my breath away, those words that mean the entire world to me. He means the world to me...

“Even if this does become a problem, I don’t think it will, but if it does this is my problem Love, not yours. You don’t need to worry.”

“Hun, it will become the problem of everyone who cares about you.”

“Everyone who cares about you.” That sounds so foreign to me...

“I understand. Next time please talk to me before you tell anyone anything. This is kinda embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah... sorry... it’s nothing to be embarrassed about though... my parents are probably the most understanding parents ever... they are totally on team Amanda.”

Hanging up the phone and tossing it onto the couch, I no longer feel anger. The rage that I felt five minutes ago has left as quickly as it came. The blood has left my face. I think I might throw up. I walk to the bathroom and place my hands along the edges of the white sink, using it as a crutch to hold myself up. My head feels heavy as it hangs below my shoulders. I need to think about what just happened. I close my eyes and lift my head. When I finally open my eyes I see my reflection. I follow my long red hair as it hits my porcelain coloured shoulder. I strip off my shirt to reveal the damage I have caused. One could count every rib in my ribcage and find my hips immediately. I’m 20 years old, and 102lbs. I’m under weight. I’m malnourished. I’m slowly getting sick and it’s all my doing. I can’t hold it back any more. The tears are coming to the surface. As it trickles down my check, taking appearance changing mascara and eye liner with it, I watch it hit the sink. I’m alone, in a world that suddenly seems too big for me.

Squishable

Light bounces from one tree to the next as my small Chevy races past them going 80 kilometres an hour. Actually, the speed limit says 80 kilometres an hour, my speedometer says 90, but that’s beside the point. Why on earth my mother decided to get a cavalier is beyond me. Yea, I understand they are affordable, and I can’t complain because it is a car, but still. I can barely see anything past these pathetic headlights. These are supposed to be high beams? I’ve seen bicycles with reflectors brighter than these! “Are we there yet?”, Chantal says beside me. I didn’t even notice that she turned the music down and stopped singing along with the lyrics. “You have been there before; you know that we have at least 15 minutes of driving left until we get there”. Chantal gives a big smile and turns the music back up again. I look in my review mirror and see Steve sitting in the backseat. I smile to myself and he looks back at me through the mirror. “Amanda, where did you learn of this place? What’s it called again?”, he asks curiously. “Silver Harbour”, Chantal chimes in and goes back to her song. I can’t help but giggle. “Silver harbour is a place that a good friend of mine showed me at the beginning of summer. It’s somewhere I can go to think and relax. It’s my happy place”, I said still concentrating on the road. Chantal and Steve start to talk about nothing special, just giggling and laughing at one another. I am an innocent bi-standard in all this. I’m just the driver, still leaning over the steering wheel trying to see the upcoming road. I have driven this road a hundred times or more. I know the bends and the curves like they are the back of my hand. I know by which road markers I have passed, how much longer I have until I arrive at the Harbour. I glance at the clock on the dash. It reads 11:45. 11:45 at night isn’t a bad time to be driving in the city. Everything is bright and well light. In the country, however, it is an entirely different story. You should try and avoid it if possible, mainly because of night dangers like deer. Of course I didn’t think of that until now. The conversation between Steve and Chantal is still in full swing. Watching my friends make fun of each other, bicker and laugh is something I can watch for hours. My friends are everything but dull.

It is the end of summer, but you would never know it by the temperature. I reach for the air knob and turn it up a notch to cool down the car. I glance at the clock again. “11:50”. I drive around a sharp corner in the road that bends to the right. I know after the bend it is a straight stretch from here. We only have about 10 minutes left to go. Looking out over the road, searching in the blackness, something catches my eye. I stop laughing and look directly at it, placing my foot on the break pedal in case I need to stop suddenly. Steve and Chantal must have noticed my concentration too, as they are looking directly at the object as well. My mind is racing. A thousand thoughts are going through my mind. It’s too small to be a deer. It’s not moving quick enough to be a rabbit? It can’t be a person in the middle of the road out in the sticks. Finally, my pathetic excuse for head lights literally shines some light on the object. I froze. Skunk! “Amanda!”, was the word the two simultaneous and nervous voices say to me. Out of everything they could say at that moment, they choose my name.

I took young drivers a few years back. I remember a lot of what they taught me. They always said if you are confronted with a small animal in the road they become squishables. You need to hit them instead of putting everyone else in danger. One problem with that idea, I’m an animal lover. Even the thought of killing a creature makes me sick. The skunk is in the middle of my lane. I can’t take the chance of swerving into the oncoming traffic; there might be a vehicle that is coming up fast or without head lights. Thunder Bay is notorious for bad drivers and I wouldn’t put it pass them to drive without head lights. I can’t swerve off the road or the car will crash into trees and we might not make it at all. I’m moving much too fast to hit my breaks and stop in time. My options are quickly weighed out and the only option to save everyone is to hit the skunk. I never take my eyes off the road. I grip the wheel so tight I can feel my knuckles going white. My driving instructor’s voice is coming to mind. Everything she has ever taught me is racing through my head; “Never take your hands off the wheel when you are driving. If your hands are off the wheel who is going to be in control?”. I centre the car towards the skunk. I’m thinking, praying that my car might have the clearance under it to sail right over without touching it. The car’s headlights are shining directly on it. 3 seconds until impact. I glance over at Chantal and see her eyes pinned to the road. 2 seconds; I lower my right foot on the brakes quickly. One second; there is no turning back now. The car sails over the small animal at 60 kilometres an hour. “Thunk thunk”, is all we heard. She had to buy a Cavalier.

“Pull over Amanda. Pull over”, Steve says from the backseat. Chantal puts her hand on my knee to encourage me to pull over. “Oh my God”, was all I could say. I put on my signal and pull over to the gravel shoulder, rocks hitting the undercarriage of the vehicle. Once I finally come to a stop, I put the car in park and lean back in my seat. Rubbing my hands over my face, I turn and look at my two friends that look just as shocked as I do. “Is everyone okay?”, I ask. It’s the only think I can think of at the moment. “Yea we are totally fine. How about you?”, Chantal asks. I cannot believe it just hit a skunk! Am I okay? I still have my hands over my face when Steve leans over the seat. I thought I would be crying at this point. Instead, I lower my hands and look at the two faces staring at me with concern. “Yea, I’m alright”, I finally said. Two smiles of relief wash over their faces as well as mine. I’m just glad that everyone is alright. “I’m sorry guys”, was all I could summon to say. “Why are you apologizing? You did the right thing hun”, Steve said. “We would have done the same thing. It was a squishable after all”. “Agreed”, Chantal says with a grin. A wave of relief washes over me, not only because everyone is safe, but because they know I didn’t want to do it, I had to. Just then another wave hits me, but its not an emotion. It’s a smell. All three of us look at each other and wrinkle our noses. “Let’s get out of here!”, Chantal squeals. I throw the car into drive, signal and continue our journey to Silver Harbour with a story to tell our friends and going the speed limit.

I learned a lot that night. I learned about driving and how the unexpected happends. My mom always says “expect the unexpected and prepare for the unaware”. I never understood it until this night.

it is never goodbye, but always see you later

Growing up, I always thought that having the same birthday as my grandmother was something special. Everybirthday we would celebrate together. Every birthday we would blow out the candles together. It was our tradition in my household, but traditions change...

I remember that year like it had just passed. That year I was in the 6th grade. I was going to be turning 11 that year. It was the first and last time I ever got pulled out of class early by my mom. I remember the look on her face. I never understood it then but looking back now, I know exactly what she was thinking. It was, after all, written all over her face. The look of concern, worry, nervousness, and sadness but not for herself, for me. She walked me to the car, opened the door and helped me into the passenger seat. Although I was ten years old, my mom still put my seatbelt on for me. After she closed the door, I realized that she hadn't said a word to me yet, I also never said a word. Finally after she got into the car and buckled in, I asked her the question she was expecting, "where are we going mom?". "The hospital", was the only response she could give.

It was November. My grandma had a slip and fall and broke her hip. My mom gently told me that this didn't look good for her, and that this year our birthday may have to be celebrated in the hospital. I never gave up hope. I somehow thought that she would get better and everything would go back to normal. That's the best thing about a child's mind; they are always optomistic. Well, shortly after the fall she suffered a stroke and became paralyzed from the waist down. Christmas was spent in her hospital room.

Maybe it's the time that has pasted since that's effecting my memory, or maybe I somehow blocked it out, but either way the months after Christmas seem like a blur. Each day I never knew what was coming next. Before I knew it the snow melted, flowers bloomed and the temperature was high above zero. It was June. School had been let out and I was counting down the days until my birthday... our birthday. July 23rd was the big day and I had ideas floating around in my head for what we should do. My mom kept reminding me that the hospital is where we would celebrate considering grandma's condition, but being a child I still had hope.

July rolled in and grandma's condition took a turn for the worst. We ended up sending at least four hours in the hospital per day. Whenever I saw her she had machines all around her. One beeped all the time and others seemed to be attached to her through tubes. I never asked what was happening, I honestly never thought to. Maybe I was afraid of the answer I would recieve if I asked, or maybe I was better off not knowing that the time. But regardless, I never did ask. Then the worst came.

I found myself in an office of some sort. I'm sitting next to my mom and on the other side of me was my uncle. You have seen Charlie Brown right? You know the teacher's voice? That's what the doctor's voice sounded like. She was speaking English but I had no idea what she was saying. Before I knew it I was being led to her room with my mom holding my hand the entire way there. When we reached the room my mom knelt on one knee and looked me in the eyes. In her own had tears she was holding back. "It is time to say goodbye to grandma hunny". I looked at her, puzzled. I wanted to question her furthur. But I had a feeling I shouldn't ask right now and I walked into the room. I saw my grandma in the same spot she has been for the last few months. I took her hand and looked at her. Her eyes were closed, it looked like she was sleeping. The machine was still making the steady beeping noise. I squeezed her hand and whispered what my mom told me to do. "Goodbye grandma", and I turned around not looking back, somehow knowing I would never see her again. It was July 21st when we recieved the phone call from her doctor.

It's not the way I had planned to spend our birthday. Anything would have been better than me to spend my 11th birthday at her funeral. Looking back, although we didn't spend it together in person, she was there in spirit. I know that now.

It is October 5th now. I'm 20 years old. I can't help but to look back on that day and remeber it all. I miss her, that's a given, but she taught me something I will never forget. When I said goodbye, I said it knowing I would never see her again. Now when someone says goodbye to me, whether it is endng a phone call or finishing up a visit, I respond with a simple "no". If you don't know me you would be confused. That's not normally the response you get when you are saying goodbye to someone. That's because for me, when I say goodbye, it means forever. When im ending a phone call or a visit from a friend, it will always be"see you later". It means ill see you again soon... It is never goodbye, but always see you later.