{CHAPTER TWO}

                                    ~~~~~~~~

I emerged from the taxi, my heels setting a deliberate tempo on the empty, well constructed road of Lisa's neighborhood. The new estate stood silence, rarely witnessing passerby. The stillness enveloped me, broken only by the melodic chirping of birds flitting around, adding an ethereal quality to the atmosphere.

As I made my way towards Lisa's house at a leisurely pace, the scene before me seemed frozen in time, amplifying the intensity of my emotions. The frustration of being interrupted by Lisa lingered in my mind, fueling my resolve to address the issue with a stern conversation about the intrusion on my cherished moment with Jackson.

"Ohhh Lisa, you are in for a tough time," I muttered to myself, pursing my lips as I pressed the doorbell of Lisa's apartment.

I pressed the doorbell again, but there was still no response. When the door finally opened, Lisa's face showed pure frustration and disbelief. She patted my arm slightly harder, adding to the tension in the air.

I strolled in skillfully, avoiding her pats. "Why the frustration and hitting? I should be the one doing this after you interrupted my time with Jackson," I retorted confidently.

"Jackson? Who's Jackson?" She inquired, crossing her arms and tilting her hip to one side.

Dropping my bag on the table, I shot back, "Jackson, the dude I mentioned." But before I could say more, she cut in.

"Hush, girl. Do you even recall what today's about?" She interrupted.

"Ohhh crap!" I blurted, eyeing the calendar in front of me before checking my wristwatch. "Shit! I'm late, my mom's gonna kill me!" I panicked, fidgeting as I quickly grabbed my bag.

Lisa pulled a strand of hair from her mouth and gasped dramatically. "How could you forget your dad's memorial, of all days Hanna?"

"I lost track of time with Jackson, and you should have spoken a bit louder on the phone," I murmured, tears welling up in my eyes as I reached out for the door.

My anger for Lisa quickly transformed into gratitude, "If she hadn't called me, I would have completely forgotten about Dad's memorial today," I admitted to myself, feeling a wave of conflicting emotions washing over me.

I ran across the road, heels clicking and hair flying back. "Mom is definitely gonna kill me," I whispered under my breath, the panic setting in.

When I finally made it home, the scene unfolded before my eyes— the place was immaculately set up. Sneaking through the stairs, trying my best to avoid detection, a sudden yell pierced the silence. Mom stood there, tray in her hand, and bellowed.

"Why are you late!"

I tried to stammer out an excuse while feeling the weight of mom's disappointment.

With a weary sigh, mom said, "Hurry upstairs, change quickly, and then come help finish setting up."

Placing mom's favorite picture of dad in front of us brought a rush of emotions. I could almost hear mom's somber voice as I was suddenly transported back to the night my dad passed away.

It was a raining evening, and I had just celebrated my eighteenth birthday. We were both in the car that fateful night, with dad driving and me in the passenger seat. I vividly remember asking dad to turn up the volume of my favorite song playing from the radio as we sang along together.

Then, out of nowhere, a massive train loaded with goods collided with our car, sending us crashing to the other side of the road. The impact took my dad's life and robbed me of my memory from that tragic night. Despite the doctors' efforts to save my dad, his injuries were too severe and he couldn't make it. I woke up from a coma with no recollection of anyone, not even my mom, my brother Phil, or my friend Lisa.

Slowly, I began to recognize them as they stood by me, showing their family bond. Though I recognized them, but my memory became hazy after the accident.
     

However, one thing remains etched in my mind— the haunting memory of that night still flashes before my eyes. As I returned from my reverie, the solemn presence of my mom in the room lingered, a poignant reminder of her deep love for dad and the struggles she faced in moving forward.

"Mom, I...I can't shake off the memories of that night. The rain, the radio song....it's all still vivid in my mind," I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion.

Mom turned to look at me, her eyes filled with understanding and sorrow. "I know, sweetheart. That night changed everything for us. But we've stayed strong together, haven't we?" She replied, her voice stiff yet resilient.

Tears welled up my eyes as I nodded, feeling the weight of my shared history with mom. Just then, the sound of tiny footsteps approached, and a soft voice filled the room.

"Mommy, I'm hungry."

It was Phil, my sweet little brother, just six years old and unaware of the past tragedy. My heart swelled with mix emotions, feeling both protective and sorrowful for Phil, who never got to meet dad.

As Phil stood there, resembling dad in so many ways, I couldn't help but imagine the missed moments and the unspoken conversations that could have been. It tugged my heartstrings, realizing the loss both Phil and dad had to experience by not being able to share in each other's lives.

The room was filled with bittersweet silence, a poignant reminder of our shared love and the unspoken longing of what could have been. In that moment, I thought about how Phil, so young and innocent, would never know the fatherly love he missed by just a hair's breadth.

"Phil, come here, buddy," I called out, my voice filled with tenderness.

As Phil approached, I enveloped him in a warm embrace, feeling the weight of responsibility and love settle on my shoulders.

"Let's get you something to eat," I said softly, leading Phil to the kitchen.

As the day drew to a close, the clattering of plates  echoed through the house, a comforting sound that signaled the end of the day.

"Come help me move your dad's picture back to my room," Mom's voice called out.

"Okay, mom," I responded, feelings of nostalgia and sadness intertwining as I accompanied mom to her room.

"Goodnight, Mom," I whispered, pressing a tender kiss on her forehead before making my way out of her room.

"Goodnight, sweetie," Mom's voice echoed.

"And I already put Phil to bed, so no need to stress yourself," I smiled, shutting the door of her room.

"That turned out great," I sighed, plopping my butt unto my bed. The relief and satisfaction of a successful outcome washed over me as I settled into the comfort of my room.

I was soon interrupted by the ringtone of my phone. "It's Jackson!" I exclaimed, realizing I almost forgot about the beautiful time we spent earlier. Hurriedly, I picked up the call, eager to reconnect with him.

"Hi, Hanna, I've been trying to reach you," Jackson's voice came through the phone. My heart sank as I pulled the phone away from my ears, seeing eleven missed calls from him and three from Lisa.

"Apologies, I wasn't with my phone," I murmured, sinking my body into the softness of my pillow.

"It's fine Hanna, I just wanted to know if you arrived to your friend on time?" Jackson's voice sounded concerned through the phone.

"Yep, made it to her on time, Jackson," I replied, rolling over in bed to switch off the table light.

"Sound great, Hanna! I had a wonderful time with you today," Jackson said, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity.

I reacted with excitement. "I had a great time too! Let's do it again soon."

"We didn't get to tell each other about ourselves... You know, my friend interrupted," I chuckled shyly, acknowledging Lisa's interruption.

"You're right, we didn't get a chance; I should probably let you off to rest, must have been a long day for you with your friend," Jackson chuckled back.

Jackson had no idea about my dad's passing and the memorial today. I didn't want to mention Lisa's interruption was due to that, to spare him any unnecessary guilt for making me late.

I could talk with Jackson for hours, but I had to agree since today was so tiring, and I really needed some rest.

  "Alright, Jackson, have a great night!" I said, beaming.

"Get some good rest. Talk to you soon," Jackson replied as he hung up.

His voice carrying a sense of warmth. My eyes lingered over the dark room, thoughts of my dad and Jackson swirling in my mind. It was oddly surprising how this guy, who I find strange, had managed to make this day less sorrowful for me. Today wasn't as sad as it used to be, unlike in previous years, when I would be in literal tears during every one of Dad's memorials.

"Oops, forgot to call Lisa back. She must have been worried," I murmured as I drifted off to sleep.