The older office nodded as if I confirmed what he’d expected.
“Thank you,” he said, then scooted toward the end of his seat. “Miss Hahn, uh, I don’t know how to tell you this, but we answered a call early this morning about an accident.”
“Accident?” I spoke out loud, feeling really confused.
“Yes, this evening your mother—” he began, but I didn’t let him finish.
I stood and slowly backed up into the wall. “Don’t,” I said. “Is she hurt? Is she hurt?”
“Miss Hahn,” he tried to offer, standing himself.
“She’s hurt, right? Just hurt, right? Only hurt.”
“Miss Hahn,” he said, edging toward me.
“Oh my God, she’s not hurt, is she? She’s not. I can tell by the look in your eyes. Is-is she dead?”
“I’m so sorry,” he offered. “She and a man named Sterling were hit by an oncoming car that didn’t see them.”
I screamed then. Something unrecognizable lifted from my chest. I will never forget that scream, never as long as I live will I forget my own scream. I fell to my knees, bones cracking hard against the rotted wood floor. I barely registered the two officers helping me to my feet and over to the couch.
I just remember the screaming.
I couldn’t stop crying.
It was all so unthinking.
More officers poured into the house, trying to be of service, but it was of no use. There was no action they could perform to bring her back or alleviate the absolute worst pain you could possibly imagine.
That pain was permanently etched in that second.
“No!” I kept yelling over and over, folded into myself, unable to stomach the pain in my chest.
The older cop sat beside me, his forearms on his knees. He looked at me, his mouth moving, but I wasn’t registering his words.
“Miss Hahn,” I finally heard, as if he’d been saying it over and over. “Listen to me.” I flinched and his face softened. “Do you have anyone you can contact? Anyone you can stay with?” he asked.
“What?” I whispered.
“Do you have anyone you can contact?”
“Contact?”
“Yes, Miss Hahn, anyone you can stay with?”
“Oh my God!” I yelled. “My sisters! My sisters!”
“Where are they?” he asked.
“Oh my God. Oh my God.”
“Miss Hahn, would you like us to contact them for you?”
I shook my head, my hand gripping his shoulder. “I don’t know where they are.”
“How old are they?” he asked, concern etched in his brow.
“Eight a-and six,” I could barely say.
My hands shook as I picked up my phone. Where are they? Where are they? Mom wrote down where they were on her note. The note I’d just tossed aside.
I stood once again but lost my balance. I toppled forward, unable to support myself.
The last thing I remember was hitting the wood floor.
CHAPTER TEN
I SAT ON THE DIRTY FLOOR of our old, decaying home. I’d woken to paramedics checking me out after I’d fainted and waved them off of me. Officers flitted around me, handing me the pronouncement of death forms, quietly asked me to sign the consent for autopsy forms, and let me know that the coroner would call to let me know when I could arrange to have my mother and Sterling picked up for funeral arrangements.
“How do I even do that?” I asked them.
The older cop patted my shoulder. “Just call a funeral home, sweetheart.”
I nodded and they left.
So I sat on that dirty floor. I laid back, unable to move, no wish to move and just let the tears flow and flow and flow. I wondered where the girls were. I wondered how I was going to tell them.
Someone had left the door open, not realizing they were the last to leave, so I stared out onto the porch through the screen door and watched the sun crest the earth, shining light on what I’d done to my mother, bathing me in the most profound guilt I had ever and would ever feel again in my entire life.
I dragged air into my lungs and exhaled, wishing the pain would bend, if even for a moment, leave for even the briefest of seconds just so I could know air again without searing pain.
I watched the sun rise higher and higher until Ansen came. So entrenched in my pain, I could hardly decipher what he was saying, yelling, when he got out of his car. Like a whirlwind, he and Katie sprinted up the front porch steps. Ansen swung the screen door open hard, sliding into the room on his knees, and gathered me up. Katie was bawling, tears and mascara flowing down her face as she met my other side, wrapping me in her arms.
They spoke to me, but I didn’t hear them.
“The girls,” I whispered. “The girls.”
Ansen stood up, pushed through the door, and headed across the street to Alta Mae’s house, guessing they were there, I thought. Katie pushed the hair out of my eyes.
“Lily, can you hear me?” she asked. I turned toward her, but my head felt heavy. “We heard what happened, baby,” she said, hugging me close. “It’s gonna be okay,” she lied. “It’s gonna be all right.”
“No, Katie,” I said, finding my voice. “It’s not.”
Her face contorted as if fighting back a sob but she couldn’t help herself and it came out as a near wail. She tucked me into her and got a hold of herself.
“What are we gonna do?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I told her the truth.
I heard my sisters before I saw them.
“Oh my God,” I said, shaking so hard I could barely stand.
Katie helped me and brought the bottom of my shirt up to wipe my face, to try and look somewhat together.
“How is this happening?” I whispered to no one.
Ansen held both girls’ hands and tears fell so quick and so hard, I couldn’t see well.
I blinked them away as Ansen brought them in.
“What’s going on?” Eloise asked, already nervous. I felt sick.
“Come sit down, my love.” I could barely speak.
“Lily,” she gritted out, breathing deep, “why are you crying? Are you okay?”
“Lily, are you sick?” Callie asked.
Ansen sat down on the sofa and both girls sat on each side of him.
I sat on the coffee table across from them.
“I have something to tell you,” I began, and Ansen instinctively brought them tight against him as if he could protect them from the inevitable.
***
The girls were devastated. I refuse to write about it. Hearing them cry for their mommy over and over again is probably the worst thing I’ve ever experienced.
It’s all my fault, I kept thinking.
We, all five of us, sat on the couch staring at a random television show no one was watching. The girls had cried themselves to sleep and leaned against Ansen and me.
I turned to my oldest friend. “What should I do?” I asked him.
Katie watched us both, her eyes red and swollen; her hand gripped the shoulder of Ansen’s shirt. As if just touching him kept her from floating away; I wondered what that felt like. Having someone to lean on must be such a tremendous comfort.
“I don’t know what you should do, Lily.”
“How am I going to feed them?” I asked.
Ansen breathed deep. “You’re going to figure it out, Lily, like you always do. You’re going to figure it out.”
Tears sprang forth. “I have no money, Ansen.”
“D-do you own this house?” he asked.
“Yeah, I mean, it was in Sterling’s name, but it’s paid off. It’s not worth much.”
“So you just take it one day at a time then,” he said.
“How? How do I even do that?”
“Lily, stop, you’re just in shock. You’ll take it one day at a time,” Katie encouraged.
“I don’t think I have it in me to do that,” I admitted out loud, staring at the sun pouring through the blurry glass of our ancient windows.
“Yes, you do,” Ansen said.
But he didn’t know, did he? How could he? I certainly didn’t.
I did know I needed to see what burying my mom would cost, though, so I could come up with the funds somehow, get an idea of how much I needed. I picked up my phone and searched for funeral homes in Smithfield. Not knowing what to do, I chose the first one that popped up on the list and clicked their website, searching for their number. I called and a woman’s soft voice answered.