I felt the wind biting my skin. It was cold. But when the winded stopped nipping at me—when the gusts died down—the sun beat down on me, making me sweat. It’s like the weather was confused or something; it couldn’t decide if it wanted to be hot or cold—it reminded me of Mom; she could never make up her mind. I ended up rolling my sleeves up and down nearly every ten minutes. Weather can be so fickle sometimes, especially in the fall.

I was really uncomfortable outside. The ever-changing weather took me as is victim forcing me into a cold sweat. This wasn’t enough to make me go back home, though. I didn’t want to go home. Everything there reminded me of Mom, and I couldn’t deal with thinking about her, not after she left.

I remembered how awful it felt to dwell on the situation with Mom and figured the discomfort of being outside was better than being a slave to her ghost. So, to avoid the awkwardness of my house, I just kept walking around. As I strolled through my neighborhood, I saw a couple of my friends’ parents and nervously waved at them. I didn’t like seeing my friends’ parents; it’s just an altogether strange experience. The conversations are often hollow and pointless, if you happen to have one with them—luckily I avoided that by hurrying past.

I had nearly made it full circle—my neighborhood was pretty big, about a two or three miles all the way around, so I was out there for a while—when I saw my friend waiting outside my house. I yelled over to him to grab his attention so he ran over to meet up with me. I asked him why he was waiting by my mailbox and he replied “I saw you leave your house through my window a bit ago, and you looked a little depressed, so I wanted to talk to you. I figured I’d let you walk off a little of whatever was bothering you before talking to you, though,” he said, and then jokingly added, “I guess that’s why!”

I just said “Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say—there wasn’t anything else to say. After that we turned around and cut through a back yard to get to this park in another neighborhood. We often smoked at that park. It was a good place to smoke at, too. There weren’t many people walking by and even if there were, they didn’t know who we were since we didn’t live there.

Neither of us said anything on the way back there. Silence was a common theme that day; you could almost taste the discomfort. Finally, we made it back to the bleachers by the little-league baseball field. I pulled out my pack of Camel filters and took out cigarettes for the both of us, then lit up. The weather wasn’t so bad now. It was actually pretty nice. The sun was shining through the clouds perfectly and the wind was blowing lightly. I can’t really think of a word to describe the situation other than nice.

The nicotine made my body buzz. I was a little dizzy since I hadn’t eaten much that day. Plus, it had been a few days since I had a cigarette. I had to rest my head between my legs I was so dizzy. I felt pretty good, and I was able to clear my mind of all bothersome and annoying thoughts, even the ones about Mom.

The silence stuck around; we smoked our cigarettes without saying a word. I didn’t mind, though. It was just nice to have someone there to keep me company. I’d been walking around and smoking my cigarettes by myself pretty often and I got pretty lonely. Having someone with me was pleasant and different. Come to think of it, I’d been doing everything by myself those days. Dad was always alone in his room, Mom ran off somewhere and I was an only child. It was a good feeling not being alone for once. I enjoyed it.

We both finished our cigarettes and began to walk around some more, managed our way back to my house. I was a little hungry—like I said, I hadn’t eaten much that day—and I knew there was enough pizza in the fridge for us both so I asked my friend if he wanted to go in and eat. He nodded.

After throwing the pizza in the oven to heat up and grabbing some plates out of the cabinet, I poured us some soda to drink. My friend was already waiting in the family room for me, watching some TV, so I brought his drink in for me and left it on the table by his chair. He had this weird look on his face, like he wanted to ask something, but realized it might have been bad timing. I didn’t care about timing much, so I asked him why he had that strange look on. He turned to me and asked “How long has your mom been gone for? I know that’s been bothering you.” I told him “I don’t know, maybe a week or two, I’ve lost track. I don’t really want to talk about her right now, okay?”

I was annoyed that he had asked me that. He wasn’t even my best friend, who was he to be asking me about how long Mom had been gone? That wasn’t any of his business. My tone was pretty sharp when I told him I didn’t want to talk about it so quickly stopped asking about it. Right after that the oven started beeping so I went out to grab the pizza. I tossed it onto the plates and brought it in. I put his plate next to his cup of soda. We sat and talked for a little while longer, having an idle conversation about girls.

During that chat, I kept realizing Mom’s stuff around the house, and I started getting annoyed with the thoughts I was having about her. What was even worse was my friend brought her back up again. He turned to me again and said “Look, I know you don’t want to talk about this, but I want to help you out. I want to help you get whatever you’re feeling out. Let’s talk about this.” I just gave him a slight nod. I figured he wouldn’t let this go even though I told him I didn’t want to talk about it. It’s almost like he was my conscience, nagging at me to stop ignoring this.

He got really serious after that. He looked me in eyes and questioned me, like an interrogator or something, “So, she’s been gone for a week or two?” I didn’t say a word, just nodded. I mean, I had just told him that, he was just being stupid trying to get me to talk, I thought. He mumbled something like “okay…two weeks…alright” under his breath then began his interrogation again asking “If she’s been gone for so long, why is her car in the garage?” I heard him say that and I couldn’t even believe it. I got angry at him again for asking me about this. He was getting into my personal life and he had not right to do that. Besides, Mom probably took a taxi or something. I don’t know, she just didn’t want us being able to follow her.

After hearing me rant about how he shouldn’t be asking me about this and explaining that she probably took a taxi, he laid off. I looked out the family room window and saw the sun was setting; I’d needed a jacket so I went up and got one out of my room. My friend came up with me and waited at the top of the stairs by the banister. I came out of my room and zipped up my jacket tight. As I walked through the door, I saw him holding Mom’s jacket; it had been lying over the banister. He quickly dropped it back over the banister and acted as though nothing happened. I ignored it too.

We walked around a little more. There was more silence. It was a little quieter than before since the wind had stopped. The clouds were gone, too. I hadn’t realized how long we’d been inside for. The bleachers were glad to see us again. Like I said, no one goes around there much. We were the only ones, really. We smoked a couple more cigarettes. I needed them after the s*** he was pulling back at my house. The smell of burning tobacco filled my nostrils and cleared my head. It was relaxing. Each drag brought more and more peace. By the end of my first cigarette, I had forgotten all about the questions my friend had been asking me. I was calm.

I smoked a couple more cigarettes. Maybe two or three more, I don’t really remember. When I finished, we both got up and walked on a path that went through the woods. I could smell the cigarette smoke flow as we moved to get up. It even followed us a little bit past the bleachers. As we walked, I realized neither of us had said a word since we left the house. I didn’t mind, though. We continued to walk together without conversation, as though we were mute, just listening to the animals in the woods. I heard some owls hooting and some squirrels scurry through the fallen leaves. It was a little eerie, but soothing at the same time. The silence was nice.

Once we got out of the woods and off the path, I heard my friend let out a loud sigh. It broke the silence, the silence that consumed my thoughts as we walked, so it caught my attention. I already knew what he was going to say, yet I still asked him what he wanted to say. I watched him slowly turn his head to me and open his lips to say “I think you are ignoring something with your mom. I was only over your house for a few hours and what you’re saying about her just isn’t making much sense. I mean, her only jacket, it was lying around, her car was still in the drive way, her cell phone was on the kitchen island, her purse was on the stairs, and her shoes were still in the garage. What aren’t you telling me? Why aren’t you telling me? I’m just here to help.”

I couldn’t take it; his questions were driving me crazy. I didn’t know how clear I had to be with him. I just stared at him for a little while after he asked me that question. I couldn’t believe it. I had made it obvious that I didn’t want to talk about this, yet he persisted. I didn’t say a word to him. I just turned the other way and went home.

I entered in the code to open the garage door. As I walked in, I bumped into the side-view mirror on Mom’s car. I kept on walking in and ended up tripping on her shoes, too. She always left her one pair of walking shoes sitting right before the steps up to the door. I didn’t get why Dad hadn’t cleaned up her stuff. I couldn’t deal with it, it annoyed me too much. But he could have at least cleaned up some of the things she left all over the house before she left.

Inside, I realized something odd. When I entered the family room, I saw that on the table beside the chair my friend sat in was the cup of his soda and his plate of food. Both were untouched. On the coffee table sat my empty cup and plate. I had sworn my friend finished his food. I was positive he did. He was even the one that insisted we leave and go back out again. I was really confused. I didn’t know what to think.

My dad was upstairs, crying. I heard him. He was being loud. I walked up the stairs, and accidentally stepped on Mom’s purse on the way. I saw her wallet fall out. I thought to myself “How could she have paid for a taxi—how could she have paid for anything—without her wallet?”

I kept walking up. I saw her coat lying there—over the banister. I looked at it intensely. I was burning up with confusion. I couldn’t make sense of what was going on. Why had my friend been so incessant with his questioning? Why was his food still there? Why did Mom forget all of her stuff? How is she surviving without all her stuff? Where is Mom? I did not know.

I stumbled over to the door of Dad’s room. I saw him lay there in bed, he almost looked dead. He was so pale, and his eyes were blackened. The blinds were shut and he only had one, dim light on. I stood there and listened to him sob. His breathing gave me chills, it was so horrid. I gazed around the room and saw some of Mom’s stuff packed up and I was going to ask him a question about it but he was so consumed in his crying that he hadn’t noticed me standing there; I walked back downstairs.

I sat down where I had eaten earlier on and picked up my plate and cup. I looked at them in my hands, and then I looked over at the full cup and plate with food on it. I tried making some sense of this all. I tried hard. I just couldn’t. I strained my mind to come up with some sort of delusional way to make sense of this. But that’s what I’d been doing all along. I’d realized I had been doing that this whole time. And as I came to that realization, I took the cup and plate and threw it at the wall. They shattered and the little shards of glass flew across the room.

Anger filled me at first. I was furious with Mom. “How could she do this to me? How could she do this to Dad?” I thought. Everything came rushing into my mind at once; the truth became clear. Finally, everything settled in my mind. My thoughts stood still.

The tears began to flow. I dropped to the floor with my hands over my face. I couldn’t stop myself from crying. I gasped for breath as I cried. I pushed my face into the couch before me to scream. I let it all out. I didn’t know how to respond. It had been two weeks, and I had been lying to myself the whole time. For two weeks, I was living in a world of fantasy—a world of deluded fantasy.

But then I saw the truth. I saw what I wanted myself to see this whole time, but couldn’t accept. In a state of collected insanity, I kept uttering to myself as I cried the same words over and over. I could only say one thing: Mom’s dead.