The Ocean and the Brave

A Story by breezygirl

Madison killed her sister. It has to be true... doesn't it?

Sometimes my mind blows back to that horrid day. The videotape of the incident replays over and over in my mind. I attempt to turn it off, but the picture is as clear as daylight. And every time I glance back at it, it’s a reminder that it’s my fault. I’m guilty for it. Since I can’t fight my imagination from repeating that day, sometimes I watch it. I watch Lila hit the ground in that awkward position; her wild chestnut hair flung dead at her side. I watch my parents’ hysterics as they find the accident. But most importantly, I watch myself deny what had happened.

The typical Saturday feels lifeless as I drag my exhausted body down the creaky stairs. As usual, my mom is heating the bacon and it’s sizzling sound makes me feel sick. Bacon was Lila’s favorite food. She would race me down the winding stairs until she beat me to the pan. I never one against her competitive skills.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I found my dad sitting at the table; engaging in the New York Times. I plopped my self down beside him and rest my head on the table. My strawberry blond hair was clumps of tangles.

“Bacon?” My mom asked as she held out the sizzling pan to me. I shook my head and pushed it aside. My mom frowned and shrugged as she carried it back to the hot stove.

“Maybe you should save some for Lila,” my dad remarked from behind the New York Times. As the room falls silent, my dad looks up. “I’m sorry. I fo-forgot.”

It’s been a week since the death and nobody has gotten used to it. My parents tucked her lifeless body into an old, empty toy chest. Lila’s favorite toy chest. My mom hated coffins. “It not only sucks the life out of the body inside, but it sucks the life out of their lovers too,” I recalled my mom stated once.

Though neighbors sent me flowers and claimed it wasn’t my fault, I knew better. I was the one who was supposed to watch her; a mischievous 11- year- old girl. I was the one who got so pissed off that I told her to get out of the house while my wild party went on. And she did. She ran outside in the streets. Hours passed and soon my party (which I wasn’t supposed to have) died off. I went outside and screamed her name. I recall the cold rain pouring down and I shone a flashlight through the heavy dark air. I remember her telling me she wasn’t wanted. I told her I was acting stupid and I needed her. She kept backing up as I tried to get closer. She soon lingered into the wet road and before we knew it, a huge truck barreled through and knocked her off her feet. I screamed and sobbed by her until my parents arrived hours later.

“It’s fine, Al,” my mom soothed him and I could tell her mind was glaring at me.

Ugh, another day in this Hell, I thought gruffly. My dad was about to burst into crazy tears so quickly he dashed out of the awkward silenced room. Since my mom was left, she went to sit by me.

“It’s not your fault, Madison,” she whispered while she hugged me tightly. I rolled my blue eyes and sighed.

“Yeah, I know,” I find myself state, but my mind is saying it is my fault. My mom peered at me, like she knew I was lying, but then shook her head and let go of me. I sighed. It was totally my fault. Since the death, I have been waiting for the FBI or police to drag me to jail. Every time the phone rang, I waited for the lawyer to say I’m going to court. I’ve also waited for my parents to ground me, but all they do is say it’s not my fault. Yeah right.

“You can go over to Benny’s to get some ice cream if you want,” my mom offered casually. Since I had no better options, I agreed.

Benny’s is the best ice cream place there is. It’s only a couple blocks from our house, which is in the quiet part of New York. On the way I pass Lucas and his gang.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the murder herself. The one who killed her sister and won’t admit it,” Lucas taunted and stalked closer me. His side kicks Jim and Aaron snickered from behind him. I decided to ignore the taunt and briskly move forward.

“Ha, she’s running away from her troubles,” Jim announced as I dashed away. My pale skin deepened several shades of red. I bit my lower lip to keep my heavy sobs out. My irregular breathing continued while I tried to hold my sobs in.

I dashed into a lonely gate and buried my tear-streaked face into Lila’s grave. My trembling fingers ran over the carved words in the cold stone. ‘Lila Taylor’ it read and my face rubbed against it. I didn’t want to read the rest. I knew what it would state. ‘1999-2011’.

“Lila, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. God, why don’t you just send me to Hell now and be done with it. I don’t deserve to live anyways.” I heaved myself forward to hug that stone. It was so small. Her tiny doll-like body was lying lifelessly on the ground I was resting on.

As I got up (not after saying goodbye to Lila), I find myself staring at an old lady. She had fairly tan skin and bleach white hair. She rested in a wobbly, hand push wheel chair.

“God makes everything happen for a reason,” she stated with a twisted smile.

“Not murdering your sister,” I sighed and suddenly became engaged in my navy flip-flops. I had bought them with Lila at Abercrombie and Fitch last summer. She had bought red so we could have good Fourth of July colors. Unlike many 14 year olds, I didn’t mind matching with my little sister.

“I’m just here visiting my dad. Everyday, in fact. I’ve lived here many years,” she remarked. “I know how you feel though, he caught llemonia from me when I was a child. He got it bad bad bad.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered she shook her head.

“Na, he was abusive anyway,” she replied in a hushed voice. “Hurt my legs so bad I’m stuck in this damn thing. I used to love to run around in the breeze; swimming especially. Swimming was my life. Someday, I swear, I’ll go in the water. Someday. Even when your life seems dead and hopeless, there’s still hope. You can’t let it get your way of chasing your dreams.”

“Hmm,” I replied as I headed out from the graveyard.

All night I thought of what she said. The words swirled around my mind. Then it hit me. I glance at the empty bed beside me. The words ‘Lila’ above it glared down at me. And again, I had the same nightmare, but this time, I had hope.

“Bye, Mom!” I hollered before swinging open the breezy door and flinging my excited body out into the summery air.

“Whoa! Where are you going?” My mom questioned suspiciously. I sighed before replying.

“To… meet a friend.” And for the first time in days, my mom actually smiled. Boy, have I missed that loving smile. My mom has worried about my social life since the accident, so she’s probably glad I’ve got someone to help lighten the weight of guilt on my weak and tired shoulders.

I grabbed my bike and slung the bag of towels I got on the steering wheel. I place my stingy flip-flops on the peddles and began peddling my purple bike towards the graveyard.

“Hello, again,” the old woman wheeled over to me.

“I knew you’d be here,” I smiled.

“You thought right, then. By the way, call me Amanda,” she replied and place down some tulips by her father’s dried out grave.

“I’m Madison.” I handed her my heavy bag and she gasped.

“Towels?”

“Yep, we’re going swimming!”

“How can I thank you enough, Madison,” she grabbed my hand and shook it thoughtfully.

As we strolled over to the pond, Amanda looked at me deeply.

“You feel guilty about what happened with your sister, don’t you?”

“ ‘It’s not your fault, Madison’ that’s all I ever hear! I am guilty! Everybody tries to help, but they can’t. I don’t want to be reminded of it!” I screamed, but then in a hushed tone added, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have blown off at you.”

“No, I feel the same way.”

The silence the rest of the way to the pond was deadly. The bag seemed to be getting heavier and heavier. I prayed my legs wouldn’t give out. It felt strange to walk next to Amanda because you felt selfish. I had working legs and she doesn’t. That’s all I thought the whole way down.

When we reached the ocean, the sea gulls screamed welcomes to us. Amanda smiled.

“Ah, the ocean.”

I shook off my flip-flops and helped Amanda with her shoes. Then I carefully peeled her fragile body out of the wheelchair. She was not too heavy as I lugged her over to wiggle our toes in. Then, carefully she let go of me.

“I’m standing. I’m standing!” She hollered. We ignored the odd looks from others and moved closer in. The waves were splashing in and I warned her not to go too deep.

“Don’t worry about me, Madison,” she shooed me off and waddled deeper. I was afraid she would soon trip since she wasn’t good on her legs.

Then I saw it. I wanted to scream for her to stop, but my lips wouldn’t budge. Why couldn’t I scream? Amanda stumbled in the water before it hit her; that huge aqua wave barreling towards her. It dragged her down, but before it took her, she hollered to me.

“Thank you, Madison. God bless you!” Then she gurgled out of sight, leaving me, yet,, with another lost to deal with.

10 YEARS LATER

I had thought hard about what Amanda had said about don’t let losses get to you, and I didn’t. I decided to help prevent horrible incidents like mine from happening by working at a studio to help support friendship between sisters.

I’ve seen many horrible stories between sisters, but it helps knowing I saved them. I still live in New York and daily visit the cemetery. Mostly I visit the ocean and swim. My nightmares died down because I decided to not let them control my life. I live with my caring husband and twin daughters: Lila and Amanda.