Hillary A. Roth

27 November 2009

Last Breath

 “We are nearly there, Pippa!”

Her perkiness was wearing thin on me, but I remembered to be thankful that we had made it this far without killing each other. I patted her hand.

 “I know, Chessy, I can’t wait to get to Cavendish.”

My mind swam with memories of Cavendish: our parents; the summers; and the good times we all had.

            Chessy helped me into the car, she treated me now as if I was a person with terminal cancer, but in actuality it was only bipolar disorder. Her internal 1950s housewife would not allow her to stop for a moment. It was go, go, go. Since she had no husband or children, I had become the next best thing, and with my most recent mental breakdown I was her summer project.

The car ride was amazing as we drove down the winding roads of the island, curved through the towns, and fields of emerald, violet, and fuchsia. Chessy stopped on the side of the road to take pictures of it all from larkspur and peonies, to vines of strawberries and blueberries. We arrived at our family’s beach house in time to watch the sunset ignite the ruby cliffs as the waves smashed into them. I was awestruck by the picture and sat in the Adirondack chair to try to drink it all in. I did not realize a couple of hours had passed until I was shivering and cold from the rapid drop in temperature.

 “Chessy!” I called for my sister. “Francesca!”

I checked our rooms, the bathroom, and kitchen.

“Chess!” I cried outside and saw the car still sitting in the driveway.

My cell phone was locked in the car with my purse and the keys to the car were nowhere to be found. I felt an anxiety attack coming on. I tried to be strong not to panic. I am stronger than this illness, I think. I knew it, but it was impossible. Before long my hands were tingling with a numb feeling, sucking air like it was my last breath. Tears were flooding my face.

I threw myself in the shower before things went too far. I tried not to think about where Chessy was, how I was going to get into the car, where Chessy could have gone, what would I do if she was dead. Deep breaths…deep breaths…breathe in…breathe out…focus. All of these thoughts consumed my mind, but I had to get a handle on it before it ate me up and did not spit me back out. I laid in the tub, fully clothed, with the water of the shower beating on me, practicing normal breaths when I heard Chessy’s voice.

“Pippa! Pip, are you showering?”

I could not tell her that I had already had an episode our first day on summer vacation, so I hollered back. “Just grabbing a shower.”

She called back, “I went up the road to that farmer’s market and picked up some things to make us dinner.”

I nearly scoffed at the thought of what she was in there creating with her handy iPhone cooking application.

Francesca and I tried to live as if I am not crazy, as if she’s not scared, and as if our parents’ deaths don’t bother us. But, I am crazy, she’s terrified, and we’re both wrecks over our parents’ deaths.

It was still fresh on my mind. The deaths of our parents and that tragic day that forever marked our lives.

We were all home for the holidays, me from college and Chessy from her big city job. It was the night before Christmas Eve. Wel decorated the tree and had hot chocolate with shots of Bailey’s. Mom and Dad left to go to a friend’s Christmas party down town.

            Dad was all smiles and kisses. “Now you girls behave and don’t drink all of Daddy’s Irish Cream.”

            We laughed. Mom shook her head. “Oh, Dan. Now, girls, please wrap some of the presents for tomorrows get together. Okay?”

            I nodded in agreement. Chess piped in. “Of course mom, now you two get out of here and go have a good time.”

They kissed us good bye and we waved to them as they drove away. Chess and I watched The Christmas Story marathon while wrapping gifts in the family room. We passed out after one. Some time close to three in the morning we were woken by our father hollering and mother begging him to calm down.

“Dan, please sit down and relax.”

“I saw the way you looked at him. Do you think I am blind, Margot?”

“Dan, what are you talking about? When’s the last time you took your meds?”

Dad slurred out. “I don’t need those damn pills to think clearly, Margot. I see the way those people laugh at me behind my back knowing you’re cheating on me with that man.”

I nudged Francesca who was awake next to me. “What do we do?”

            “Maybe he’ll pass out.”

            “Are you sure we shouldn’t go in there?”

            “You know what happened the last time.”

            “I don’t care this is serious and I’m scared for mom.”

She sighed and nodded for us to grab our robes. Things had gotten eerily quiet. Before long we heard things being thrown and a door slam. We tiptoed to our parents’ bedroom door.

            “Daniel! Stop! Have you lost your mind?

            I was struck with fear and couldn’t knock wondering what my father could be doing during this manic state. Francesca was paralyzed until we heard our mother scream.

            “Momma? Daddy?” I called through the door.

            Mother cried out. “Girls, leave the house. You have to get out of the house.”

            Francesca screamed. “Mother, we are calling 911.”

            I ran to grab the phone but the next thing we heard were three gunshots followed moments later by one more. Both of us were unable to move.

            We started banging on the door screaming for them. “Mom! Dad! Answer us!”

“Chessy! Hurry we have to get in there.”

            Her hands shook as we tried to pry the door open. The sound of sirens and someone knocking at our front door filled the background. I tried to get in to their room by slamming my body into the door until I was pulled aside.

            “Let us through, Miss.”

            Chessy and I held each other on the couch. Neither of us said anything or moved in fear it would break the spell.

            “Miss?” A police officer was standing in front of us. It seemed like days had passed. “Are you the daughters of the couple?”

            Chessy answered “Yes sir, we are their daughters.”

            “I hate to say this but they are dead. It looks like your father shot your mother three times and then turned the gun on himself. Do you know why this happened?”

            The last thing I heard was Francesca. “Our father is Bipolar and he was off his meds…”

            My world spun away from me and I was unable to find a foothold for some time. I was hospitalized and Francesca had to deal with the murder suicide and double funerals on her own.        

I was twenty-one then and at twenty-five, a neurotic mess who--for the most  part--functioned unless overstressed. Chessy was an undiagnosed, neurotic mess who functions without fail--no matter the stress--and has no life, husband, or children. I feel sorry for her because all she has is me.

Chessy’s greatest desires were to marry, be a housewife, a mother, PTA president, to have the home from Southern Living or Martha Stewart. I found this all to be pretty sick and think she may be worse off than me, but my psychologist says these are her goals and way of coping.

Out of the two of us I was the better cook, Chessy used magazines, recipes, and cooking shows; I cooked from the heart. Being ill, however, I did not feel much like cooking or eating, but she continued to force feed her concoctions down my throat.

“Mmmm…smells delicious, Chessy. What are we having?”

She was wearing an apron that read “Kiss the Cook” and a huge smile.

 “We’re having a frittata. Then later we will have cookies and hot tea.”

I smiled back. She had our mother’s eyes, a vibrant green, almond shaped, surrounded by dark lashes.

I winced at the memory of our mother, her arms around me consoling me; her kisses; me lying with my head in her lap while she played with my hair; I could call her about anything and there was no judgment. I felt tears. Chessy noticed and chose to avoid it. Her not acknowledging it made me angry; always hiding emotions while mine were so hard to bear that I finally crashed and burned.

“Damn it, I can’t go on like this with you. You’re hurting my chances of getting well, Chess.”

“What do you mean?”

 “Us not talking, hiding our emotions, and you acting like I’m a piece of glass.”

“I’m just trying to protect you! Is that wrong?!”

“Protect me? You are hindering us from healing! We have to talk! It can’t always be me and a shrink! I’m going for a walk.”

I left her standing in the kitchen with her cliché apron, perfect hair, and vapid smile. 

It may seem like I hated my sister, but I didn’t. I disliked the fact that she avoided everything and packed it away in the deepest, darkest closet. I found the car unlocked, and grabbed my jacket and phone before I walked too far. Knowing the cool, crisp, Canadian air would make me shiver no matter how hot my temper made me. There were missed calls from the fiancé I had left at the altar, but I could not bear to call him back.  Cavendish had been such a comfort for a large part of my life. We had come here as a family in the summers to embrace the cool temperatures and escape the heat of the South. It was a dream world when my life had become a nightmare.

 The island was still untouched in many ways, even in the night it was nearly draped in complete darkness except for the stars, and in the distance there was a store and restaurant. We are farther out from the town--not that there was much noise or lights wherever you stayed.

“It’s awfully late to be out here. And dangerous, I might add.”

I had jumped at the sound of his voice and cried out. “You nearly scared me to death. Jeez, don’t you know it’s impolite to sneak up on someone like that?”

My heart raced with the shock and irritation at the man interrupting my thoughts and seclusion.

He chuckled “I’m sorry, not use to seeing anyone down here at this time except myself and my dog Laddie.”

His dog was huge and walked towards me. “What kind of dog is he?”

“A Rhodesian Ridgeback, full-blooded, registered, well mannered, and an excellent companion, I would I have to say.”

I stroked the dog’s chin and chest he sat level with me with both of us on our haunches. He licked my face from chin to forehead. I laughed and ruffled his head.

 “He’s well-mannered alright.”

 I stood and realized the man was a little miffed.

“He doesn’t normally do that sort of thing.”

“Maybe he needed a kiss.”

“Pippa, there you are! Oh, who might you be?” From angry sister to prospective housewife in five seconds flat.

The man was Gavin MacNamara. He had a beach house close to ours. He wanted to know everything about us, the story behind the sisters, and our experiences on Prince Edward Island growing up.

I excused myself. “Chessy, you two enjoy yourselves I am going to get the keys and unload my bags. I am exhausted.”

They both bid me goodnight. I could tell he was interested in Francesca, who had been enthralled with him instantaneously, or perhaps at her chance to talk to a normal human being. I’ll never know.

I grabbed my bag and started out, unsure of what had come over me. I trekked into Cavendish and rented a hotel room, and discarded my cell phone. I made a call from the hotel phone to my ex-fiancé.

 “Connell?”

 “Pippa?” He sounded asleep.

 “I have left Chess and I’m headed on an adventure to find myself. I can’t go on this way anymore, playing this game with her that life’s peaches and cream. That all is right with the world.”

“Pip, are you still on your meds?”

“Damn it, Connell, I called you because I thought you might understand. Yes, I’m on my meds. Just know I am safe but you will not be able to reach me unless I contact you.”

“You left me at the altar six months ago, I have waited, and I will continue to wait.”

 “Please, give up. I’m not wife or mother material. Marry Chessy if that’s what you are wanting, but give up on me. I love you, but I am hanging up now.”

“I’m scared for you.”

I heard the sobs caught in his throat. The guilt tore through my heart and soul, but this had to be done for his sake.

I sighed.

He sobbed, “I love you. I love you more than you will ever know.”

“I love you too.” I whispered as I hung up.

He would never speak to me again, but it was better that way.

After speaking to Connell, I sat down at the writing desk and took out sheets of paper and a pen wrote Francesca. She was my last connection to cut before I did what was necessary to continue on in my journey.

Dearest Chessy,

You have done the best you can by me and been great during all that has taken place since Momma and Daddy’s deaths, but I cannot go on this way with you. I am heading on--doing what is best for me and you.

Embrace life, get out there, meet a guy, stop hanging out in background, you’re a great catch!

 Also, seek counseling. You really have too much bottled up. One day your bottle’s going to burst right open. I love you so much, and remember that no matter what I am only a thought away. I have disconnected my phone and will call when I figure out what I am doing and where I am going.

Please take care of yourself. Keep yourself upbeat, do not get down, but please talk to someone about all of this.

I love you,

Pippa

I sent one to our beach house and one to our home in the States, for insurance that she would receive it. I felt that morning was near and only had a little time before I went; I thought it best to leave by water. I had been the most comfortable with water. It always rolled with me when everyone else had been put out by the waves I created.

            It rained that morning. I had my bags sent home and mailed the letters to Francesca, and letters to the lawyers relinquishing my assets and funds to her. I shivered at the water and rain that were so cold, but as I swam out the water seemed warmer.  Before long the waves had become massive and the undertow powerful.

I swam until it was impossible to touch the sand and had become tired out. The waves pushed and water pulled. It wanted to suck me under. I did not resist.

I sent my love to my beautiful sister with her vibrant green eyes, Connell with his amazing heart, and Gavin in hopes he cared for my sister.

My mind played memories of my beautiful mother laughing at my father with his charming smile; my mother holding me and my sister close after we were attacked by bullies; my father interrogating my first date; Cavendish in the summers; meeting Connell my junior year of college; and the last time I saw my parents alive.

The last breath left my body and thoughts blurred. My last request was that Francesca and Connell know that I am finally at peace.