I had so many questions. The pain was masked by curiosity. Where? Why? What do I do? I remember asking anyone who would listen what they thought I should do. My real friends told me to calm down and breathe. My family went to Martins Cove. The house that Dad built. We sat together as 30 of our closest friends watched my mother puke into a glass bowl, watched my brothers lie face down on the cement floor, watched as I demolished a pint of ice cream.
That night we slept in a foreign bed in a foreign room. I needed something strange so I wouldn't have any associations to this feeling. I wept with my sisters. We talked about forever. We talked about God's plan of salvation. Nikka told us how it happened. We felt Him watching us. Wanting to reach out to us. Missing us just the same.
The next day came the friends. The families. The news stations. The food. Everyone asked how we were. We still laugh about that question. How do you think? I called my friends who I needed there. I repulsed food. I showered 3 times a day. I forgave previous foes. I refused dreams. I took medicine. I laughed with Lauren. I don't remember much of the two days after. Except that I wanted to laugh and I wanted honesty.