Unwinding the Clock

Sara Green

Unwinding the Clock

Moments After

She tried to tell me, she really did. I remember now; captured moments I suddenly can find the answer that eluded me before. Now time is immovable. I should have seen it; I should have seen all of it. Now I see it. Now I see her, her beautiful golden curls spinning swaying back and forth with the motion of her body. She sways like a marionette caught in its strings with  her head down, taking one last look at the audience as her master pulls her back up to him. The stage lights peeks through the gaps in the curtains, shining down through the floating particles of dust that move with her. The paint has faded from her face, leaving trails of ash from her scorched eyes; eyes that held such a bright fire. Rimmed with red, her fire burned her, scarred her deeper than I could begin to imagine. Flames that burn brightly die out quickly; and what a dark place the world now is. I wish I knew why, but at the same time I understand exactly how.

Seven Years Before

“Greg was a good man, husband, father; loving, kind, faithful, devoted, to not only his family, but to everyone he met. I had many year of friendship with him and I have seen the wonderment with which he looked at life. Greg view life as such a precious gift with which we had not a moment to waste. He would not want us to suffer in the wake of his loss, but to pick up the gauntlet and continue living our lives to the fullest. He wants to see where out adventures take us, because he still lives with all of us, in every memory we hold dear, in his children, in everyone he touched. Although we miss having him here, we know he will never be gone. Like the Greg we knew, he will never cease to explore the world. Look for him in the fireflies’ luminescence in the night sky. Look for him in the white skies of a blizzard. Look for him in the love you share with those you hold dear. Greg was taken all too soon, leaving us to wonder why, to wonder how it could have been different; but life is too short for us to ponder questions we can never answer. Greg lived his life to fullest, enjoying the simplest things in life. He would always throw quotes at me, reusing his favorite ideology that ‘If people sat outside and looked at the stars each night, I’ll bet they’d live a lot differently’. Greg always reached the stars, and now he has become one”. It was beautiful. I smiled gratefully, withholding the flow of tears for a minute so that I could see Todd as he walked from the podium back to his seat. I could smell the roses, the carnations, the lilies that lined the front of the room around the coffin, reminding me of the irony that such beautiful life brought to our place of mourning. The chandelier lighting made it harder to see as it filter through the crystals that hung off of it, scattering the beams across the walls and floor in starry flecks; but it did make it easier to conceal the red lids that rimmed my eyes and the dark circles that trailed off of them. Nose red and raw; this beacon in my field of vision stood out from the swarming of black around us. All of our families tried to console us, to make it better, but none of them could bring him back. So what was the point?

We found out about the accident Sunday, while the pot roast I prepared waited on the table to welcome him home from his business meeting, spreading its savory aroma of what can only be described as tantalizing and flavorful. However, the whole premise of welcoming Greg home from a meeting was merely for the sake of the kids. I couldn’t tell them why he had been out that night, why his business meetings happened so frequently or why he was always working late. Why he never talked about the meetings, yet always looked worn out when he arrived home. The only meetings he had had lately were with his lawyer. That night they were going to tell the girls; and so I waited anxiously. Waiting, until the steam stopped and the ice in our glasses had melted away into traces of condensation. Waiting, until the phone rang and Cassie picked up, asking if they knew when her daddy was going to be home. Waiting, while the police officer gave me instructions as to where I needed to go to identify the body, offering his condolences laced with the static of a bad connection before hanging up the phone. I realized after all the waiting that not having anything to wait for was even worse.

 I cried and cried on the floor, while the girls sat there with me. Jessica cried as well, but Cassie just stared blankly at the wall, almost as if she was trying to escape the reality of the situation through the food spatters that had seeped into the kitchen’s paint and stained it long ago. She hadn’t spoken, hadn’t moved, and hadn’t done anything since I told her that her father wouldn’t be coming home. I think she was trying to block out the reality around her, and she has resorted to doing so ever since.

Four Years Before

“Cassie, Jen is on the phone,” I called to her from where she was holed up in her room, per usual. She didn’t socialize much, not like Jessica, who was out with her boyfriend at the movies or staying after for a club almost every day. Since she had started high school, she had grown into herself more; something I was hoping would happen to Cassie once she reached that age. When I received no response, I circled around to the bottom of the faded oak steps and tried calling to her again; nothing. I decided to go upstairs and determinedly approached her door, covered carelessly in DO NOT ENTER signs and CAUTION tape, always drawing an exasperated eye roll from me. Knocking before I entered, the door squeaked open to reveal my daughter on her bed, face turned toward the ceiling with a pair of black headphones placed over her ears. Whatever noise was coming out of them didn’t even sound human, let alone like music with its battle-like screaming I would expect hearing from a war-torn nation. Walking in and pulling them off her ears, I was met with a glare full of pure, unadulterated teenage hatred.

“What?” she snapped, her eyebrows cocking at an angle somewhere between pissed and annoyed as hell with lips pressed into a straight line that says ‘this four foot eleven fourteen year old I not to be messed with’. However, I could handle it.

Tossing the headphones on the bed, I shifted my weight and placed my other hand to its place of authority on my hip “Why do you have that turned up so loudly? I was trying to call for you; Jen is on the phone and wants to talk to you, something about model UN.” My eyes traveled around as spoke, still feeling as if I was walking into a cave every time I entered her room, with its dark red walls strewn with taped-up pictures, drawings, ticket stubs, and things I couldn’t even figure out their purpose. On the floor lays piles of clothes, crumpled paper, paints, books, and photo albums that make me wonder if the room even had a floor. On her arms I see scribbles from a black pen that lies next to her on the black bedding, making me mentally note to have her wash that off after we finish. When I met her eyes I noticed that her face had really begun thinning out, and her clothes seemed to fit a little looser now. I always told her she would have a growth spurt.

“Oh, I quit that.” She brushed off nonchalantly, sitting in a relaxed position as if this news was something I should have already been aware of. Her dark brown hair seemed to be dyed darker every time I saw her, making her face seem to contrast and grow pale. I was always in agreement with the philosophy of giving children their space to grow and experiment with who they are, but this was a progression I hadn’t expected. She had always had a wonderful sandy blonde color, unlike her sister’s more golden blonde shade received from her father. No, Cassie had his transfixing green eyes. I get shivers sometimes when she meets my eyes with that bright gaze; I can see him.

I drop my authoritative pose, moving to sit on the edge of her bed. “Cassie, you love model UN. Why did you quit? You were so excited when you joined in sixth grade.” I reasoned, resting my hand on her knee and trying to get her to meet my eyes. Her eyes turned down to the blanket as her posture shifted, taking me by surprise at how vulnerable she looked. Her hands played with the frayed silver embroidery, pulled and plucked out of its detailed stitch work.

“I don’t know, I just don’t like it anymore.” She explained, giving me an answer that was helpful in no way whatsoever to my understanding of the question I asked.

Shaking my head, I leaned closer “No, that’s not true. I know you love it. What’s really going on?” I wanted her to give me answers, to tell me what was going on behind the fortress walls built up from bricks of the most solid concrete.

However, I had broken rule number one in the teenage rulebook, setting off the sirens and defense systems. “God mom, nothing. I’m fine just leave me alone!” she snapped, pushing me off her bed and towards the door, letting that do the rest as she pushed it closed and effectively pushing me out of the room. The click of the lock signaled to me that she didn’t want to talk anymore, but I should have read into so much more.

Two Years Before

My foot tapped impatiently at the bottom of the steps, looking up toward the shuffling and footsteps that carried down the hall.

“Cassie, hurry up!” I called, telling Jessie to get in the car and be careful not to get mud on her gown. We would put her cap on with safety pins when we got there. Nodding, she walked out the door just as Cassie came down, dressed in a long sleeve indigo button up with cuffs extending past her finger tips and black fitted jeans; this was her interpretation when I said to ‘dress up’.

“Cassie, it ninety degrees outside, you can’t wear long sleeves when we’re going to be sitting out on the bleaches. You’ll look ridiculous.” I told her, turning my focus to fix a family portrait of the three of us that hung on the wall. Eyeing my action with a gaze I couldn’t quite interpret, Cassie shrugged. I rolled my eyes and conceded “Fine, just get in the car.” I told her as I moved to stand to the side so she could walk by, popping in each ear bud and resuming the demolition of her ear drums.

Following her out, I checked to make sure the door was locked before quickly making my way down the path to the driveway, being careful not to step on my hydrangeas that were finally growing. I had been nursing them for months after I noticed the tiny insects that had begun killing them. Now they were sprayed with an insect repellant along with daily checks to make sure they continued to flourish.

Opening the driver’s door, I smiled excitedly over at Jessica, her face mirroring my own as she fiddled with the tassel on her cap nervously. My seatbelt snapped in to place as the car started up, humming to life with a quiet rumble. I shifted into drive and pulled down our driveway, turning the A/C up to its maximum power without blowing Jessica’s hair all over the place. The ride over was filled with quiet anticipation that kept us occupied until we arrived at the school. Once we dropped Jessica off at the school Cassie and I pulled up by the stadium, taking a spot towards the front that she spotted as we pulled in. I sighed, looking back to Cassie “Just think Cassie, that will be you in two years.” I cooed excitedly, probably with more enthusiasm than needed just yet. For the rest of my life, I will wish I had asked; wish I had thought more into what I assumed was just projective teenage angst: “yeah, if I’m even here…”

Two Months Before

            “Hey Mom, can we talk?” she asked, her voice seemed causal, but a slight feebleness made it noticeably different. Her hair, now completely black, sat pulled back in a ponytail that leaned slightly with her head. Although I hated it that color, and told her several times, I found it fascinating how the sunlight picked up tones of blue and green. Pieces of fringed bang stayed out to hang around her face and frame it.

            “I’m a little busy right now honey, what do you need?” I questioned her, looking back down at my bills and wondering whether I would need to take on a second job. Jessica’s college loans would need to be paid off soon and what was being paid now already put us in a precarious situation.

            Cassie seemed to shift uncomfortably in in my peripherals “Oh, okay. Well, lately I’ve just been feeling strange; I don’t really know how to describe it. I-”

            My head remained down, still going over the bills “Well, what do you want to do?” I asked, realizing this wasn’t something urgent and pressing. Most likely, this was merely hormones and would pass soon enough; no need to make a big deal out of nothing.

            Cassie seemed a little deterred, but crossed her arms and continued nonetheless. “Well, I think I should go talk to someone about it; see a therapist maybe?” she suggested casually, with a little lift in her voice in the end to let me know it was a question she wanted answered. As soon as my eyes lifted the slightest, she searched them carefully, looking for the slightest indication of an answer.

            Sighing, I placed my pen down and tilted my head to the side as my eyes lifted up to meet hers fully. “Is that really necessary? Therapists are expensive and I’m not sure you truly need one.” I wanted to be honest with her and make her realize there was no point in sugar coating when I needed to be blunt about the situation. I watched her face change like the phases of the moon; each different yet reminiscent of the other: confusion, disappointment, irritation, anger.

            “What, I’m not worth it? I’m not messed up enough, because I’m a teenager and it ‘just a phase right?’ Nothing I feel really matters because we’re too fickle to feel anything real?” She spit out, taking me off guard by the curt and resentful tone of her response. I knew she was just upset and taking things way out of proportion, but something she said struck me. I couldn’t pinpoint it exactly but I knew shaking that feeling of guilt wouldn’t leave me any time soon. I had seen her become short with me before, but this was entirely new.

            “Hey, Cassie I didn’t say that. It’s just that-” I didn’t get to finish.

Her body away from me and she threw the last few words over her shoulder before leaving; not just the room, but leaving behind the last trace of the Cassie I knew. “You didn’t have to. Just forget I ever said anything.”

One Week Before

            “Cassie, what the hell are you doing? You realize its two in the morning right? Where were you?” I demanded, descending the steps in such a vigorous flurry I was amazed I didn’t fall on their newly polished platforms. As soon as I came near her, I could smell it; the poignant tang of alcohol on her breath as she laughed. Her relaxed body leaned against the couch as her eyes, so darkly rimmed in smudged black eyeliner that I didn’t pay much attention to their redness, seemed to flicker from the water on her lashes.

            “I was just out with some friends” she defended weakly, her lax features and drooping lids conveying her stupid drunkenness. “You always wanted me to be social, right? Well here it is!” her unwarranted excitement was wasted as she tried to steady herself to a standing position. Not amused, I crossed my arms.

            My body practically shook with rage “I don’t know what entitlement you think you have not that you’re eighteen, but you still live under my roof.” From this phrase alone the shift of her features was frightening, going from intoxicated giddiness to a somber contempt.

“This isn’t your house; you bought it with dad’s life insurance. None of this is yours,” Cassie continued, swinging her arm around to smack the vase behind her into the wall with a resonating shatter that I think surprised each of us; yet she didn’t let that distract her. “none of it. You don’t own any of this and you don’t own me, so leave me the Hell alone and stop acting like you actually care.” Her voice sounded like a feral growl at this point and I had to take a step back. “You can’t stand me! I’m a burden you can’t wait to get rid of! I can make it easy for you!” She said, nearing hysterics.

“Cassie, of course I care about you! You’ve been gone almost every night, hanging out with that guy and coming home drunk most of the time, I’m concerned that-” she turned away with a laugh, heading up the first two steps toward her room.

“Hey!” I yelled, racing after her and grabbing her wrist. She hissed as if I had burned her, yanking the arm from my grasp and holding it toward her chest as an injured animal pulls up its paw and licks the wound. Those eyes meet mine again, narrowing as she watches me pure rage splattered across every feature. I stare at her for a minute, dropping my arm to my side “You have his eyes, you know.”

Whatever she had been expecting, that had not been it. Her exterior cracked long enough for me to see it all. Those same eyes I had seen as she stared at the kitchen floor by the phone now looked back at me with a face of accusation, betrayal, and abandonment. Everything she must have wanted to say died on her tongue, leaving her face now cold and impassive as she turned around and disappeared into the darkness at the top of the steps. I should have chased after her, but the path she was heading down I could not follow.

One Day Before

            The sound of a crash upstairs instinctively sent me blazing up the steps and into the open door at the end of the hall. Walking in through the open doorway I saw Cassie had a pile of her belongings in the center of the room; a pyre of old CDs, pictures in black and white of dying flowers and beautiful landscapes, band t shirts with worn out logos, marked up novels flipped open in their haphazard launching across the room. All of this sitting in front of a small girl, hunched in the corner as she looked through an album with photos peeking out at the edges. A pile of similar albums reside in a heap from where they had fallen off the shelf, pictures scattered on the floor around them. Making my way in quietly, I pick up one of the pictures off the ground and am greeted with a smiling image of a young Cassie, smiling up at her father at her first baseball game. My hand moves to cover my mouth as a weak whimper escapes my lips.

            Picking up on the noise, Cassie’s head spins around “Mom, what are you doing in here?!” she questions with a cold anger, her eyes flicking to the picture and pulling it out of my grasp. Oh my God, I suddenly noticed her hair. What happened to her hair? “Cassie, your hair? What did you do?” I reached out to touch the lobbed strands, cut off and falling just above the shoulders. However, what really struck me was the color, amazing me with the fact that I hadn’t noticed it when I first walked in: blonde, golden blonde. Looking at her now, it was an eerie ghost. “Cassie…”

            “Leave. Now.” Her demanding tone was one that expressed finality, but I needed answers.

            “What are you doing with your things? Why are you piling this all up?” My head nodded towards the pile on the floor, and her gaze broke from mine.

            She sat back down on the floor, facing the mound of possessions and sorting them into different piles. Her attention wavered as Cassie’s mind seemed to go someplace else entirely. “I don’t want them anymore, I’m giving them away.” None of this made sense. Yet despite the anger, the tension, the dissonance, she did something remarkable. She stood up, her eyes bore into mine before she wrapped her arms around me tightly. Her thin arms coiled around my neck like when she was a child and came to me for comfort. Something in me broke, and stood there numbly as held me. After what seemed like hour, she pulled away and kissed my forehead, leaving me to blankly walk out her door and turn around for one last glimpse at her, one last look at the brilliant flame so carelessly left to snuff out.