I Never Said Goodbye
“Leah, hurry up the bus will be here any minute.” My mother yells up from the kitchen. I shove my towel and bathing suit into my backpack and jam my feet into my sneakers. As I leave my room I complete my mental checklist for camp. Sun lotion, check. Flip flops, check. Extra set of clothes, check. Satisfied with my run-through, I pull my door shut and turn to go downstairs. As I reach the stairs I look at the guestroom door. Its slightly ajar, meaning Bubbe’s awake. She’s been staying with us for a year now, since her brain tumor got worse. In the beginning it wasn’t so bad. It was like it always used to be when she stayed with us. Bubbe would pick us up from school and take us for ice cream. She’d help make dinner and tell us stories after Shabbat. She stopped picking us up from school when the doctors said she couldn’t drive anymore and the Shabbat stories stopped a while ago, when the tumor made her lose her memory. She’s been calling me by my mothers name for a month now and I can’t stand it. I wish she could remember my name, just my name. I take a step towards the door to say goodbye for the day, but before I get there, the bus honks outside. I turn, bolt down the stairs and out the door.
“ Is my back burnt?” Emily asks me as she turns around to get a glance of her back in the mirror. “No, but hurry up I’m starving.” I say as I walk out of the bunkhouse. Once outside I plop down onto the picnic table to wait for her. It hot outside and I can’t wait to get out of the heat and into the air-conditioned mess hall. Emily walks out and we begin our trek to the cafeteria. Before we’ve even managed to take two steps, “Will Leah Kunin please report to the main office. Leah Kunin to the main office, please.” Drones the voice over the loudspeaker. I look at Emily and shrug my shoulders, “I dunno. I’m sure I won’t be long. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria.” I say as we part ways.
I turn around and walk towards the office. Why am I getting called down to the office? I’m not leaving early. I don’t think I forgot anything. It’s probably nothing. Just a mistake, maybe they meant someone else. All these thought are swimming around my head as I walk up to the office. By the time I reach the main office and walk up the stairs I’ve convinced myself that nothing is wrong.
I open the door and I’m greeted by a blast of cold air. I look out of place in the pristine camp office. All the ladies sitting around in pants and long sleeves, and here I am in shorts and a sweaty, gross shirt. The ladies look at me expectantly, “Yes?” one of them says. “Yeah, um, I got called to the office.” I say. “and you are…” the lady asks impatiently. “Leah Kunin” I add quickly. You’d think sitting around all day in an air-conditioned office these ladies could be a bit nicer. “Oh right, you’re leaving early. Your mother will pick you up at 12:30.” Before I can stop the words, they spill out of my mouth, “Why? What for?” One of the ladies, who has been filing her nails the whole time, looks up and says flatly, “You’re going to a funeral.”
A funeral? Mom didn’t say anything about a funeral? Who…a funeral? Suddenly the cold office has become much warmer. I’ve opened my mouth to say something, but the words are stuck in my throat. A funeral. The words sink in. Bubbe, funeral, Bubbe, funeral… Bubbe’s funeral.
I leave the office silently. Once outside the heat clings to my cool body. I feel like a set of weights has been put on my chest. I can’t breathe. I wait for tears to come but they don’t. By the time I make it into the bunk my legs are shaking. You knew it was going to be soon. You couldn’t have expected her to live much longer, I say to myself. At least you said goodbye…those last few words ring in my ears. At least…you said… An imaginary steel foot has kicked me in the stomach. I can’t breathe. My legs give out and I plunk onto the cabin floor. My brain is screaming at me. You never said goodbye. You left and never said goodbye. She’s gone and you never said goodbye! The floodgates open and tears pour out. I never said goodbye. I clutch my legs and bury my face into my knees as I rock back and forth on the cabin floor. I never said goodbye.
Filed by Mr. Hillman at March 31st, 2008 under Wait until your father gets home! Tales of family...
