My Wrath is a Mirror | ONC 2022

One

It's like a sickness.

It weevils its way inside your chest and at first, you don't notice. But then when it sinks its claws into you, you can't breathe. You can't do anything but let it happen.

It's like dying.

Second after second of agony ticks by and you think this is it—this is the end. But it isn't. It leaves you very much alive, in the barest sense of the word.

And trust me, I know what it feels like to die.

Dad told us not to get a Jeep unless it was four-wheel drive, but it was our first car—our dream car—and he couldn't deny our sixteen-year-old pleas.

The four-wheel drive would have been handy that night as Dad, Kamryn and I veered off the road and into River Gorge, the ice no match for the vehicle's near-bald tires. We plunged down the rocky slope until we stopped sliding, the entire driver's side pulverized by the gorge's boulders. I remember hanging there in the passenger seat, ribs crushing my lungs, and when I finally found breath, the air was filled with the acrid stench of burning oil. Six years later, I still can't stomach the smell. Can't even get my oil changed without having a panic attack. Dad would have had to change it if he were still here.

But he is long gone, along with my twin, and the grief ripping my ribs from my chest takes my breath away even now as I pull into my hometown of Reading, Wyoming, "Where There's Magic in the Mountains."

I roll my eyes at the welcome sign. There's no magic in this town. Just painful memories. I tell myself the twist in my gut doesn't matter, that the rage burning my throat like acid is all in my head. After all, I'm only here for Mom.

It's been four years since I left, which seems like such a long time and also no time at all, especially as I cruise down the street my sister and I grew up on. Nothing has changed, and yet it's different. Mrs. Dunn changed the flowers in her window box–colorful snapdragons waving in the winter breeze. The Waltons got another dog, a scruffy little mutt chasing their youngest son on his bike. I wave to him as I pass, realizing he's no longer the pudgy child I remember.

Blinking back the tears suddenly springing to my eyes, I turn into Mom's driveway and shove down the sickness. I left this place for a reason.

"Hello?" I call, stepping through the open front door. The scent that hits my nose is so familiar, it instantly brings fond memories to the front of my mind. Warm recollections that are far in the past. After today, I may never smell it again.

"Hey hun! Help me with this box, would you?" My mom's best friend Janine calls from the living room. I grab one end of the awkwardly large box and help haul it to her SUV.

"There's the boxes in the kitchen left, and then all we have to do is drive to the apartment and unpack." She dusts off her hands before wrapping me in a hug. "Missed you, punk."

Her embrace is crushing as it always is, and I count the seconds until I can breathe again. "Missed you too," I squeeze out.

Stepping back, she beams at me. "How was the drive? When do your things arrive?"

I follow her into the kitchen to haul more boxes out. "The wind was a problem coming up the mountain, but other than that it was fine."

I watch her eyebrow lift over a cardboard box and hold my breath, but she doesn't push it. I still haven't decided if I'm staying so I haven't scheduled the moving company to come out yet, and as much as the thought makes me ill, I don't want to tell Janine and Mom only to have their hopes trampled. "Update on Mom today?"

Janine closes the trunk after the last box is loaded and tosses me the keys. "Same as yesterday. Since they put the plate in her shoulder, she seems to be in a lot of pain, but you know your mom. She says it's manageable." She makes a face like she sucked on a lemon. "That woman could have broken both her arms and legs and still try to walk to the mailbox. Between you and me, she's going to have a hard time recovering mentally if she's dependent on anyone but herself."