It was a class assignment about Goodbye Days. I rewrote a scene from another point of view. I chose to do Pierce’s point of view in that bathroom part. I was inspired by recent events that happened close to my life. I titled it, “Lost in Sadness.”
Lost in Sadness
It always surprises me how quickly the world moves on. One moment, we’re crying and fighting. Then the next moment, it’s like nothing happened. I look around me, and I see birds singing their songs, leaves flowing in the wind, hikers laughing, children smiling, and water flowing down the cliff. Then I look at my life, and all I see is regret. “Why did I let him see that movie?” I keep on asking myself. “Why couldn’t I just tell him to stay home?” “Why couldn’t Melissa and I stop arguing?” If we would’ve stopped fighting each other, Eli wouldn’t have gone, and he would still be here walking with his girlfriend and laughing. Instead, Eli is dead, and his ashes are now scattered in Cummins Falls. Melissa nudges me, breaking my trance. I look at her.
“Pierce, are you alright?” she asks.
“Yeah, I was just thinking how Eli would have loved to come up here. He kept on asking, but I was too busy with work.” I chuckle, thinking how stupid I was to put my job ahead of my son. As if Melissa could hear my thoughts, she gives me a kinder hug.
“I know you’re sad, but there is nothing we can do now to bring back Eli. Instead, we should focus on Adair. I’m really worried about her, Pierce; you know how she blames this all on Carver. It’s not healthy, and I’m scared she’s going to do something stupid to ruin Carver’s life.”
“Maybe he deserves his life to be ruined,” I replied.
“Oh, come on, Pierce, you don’t seriously believe that. He didn’t know Mars was driving. You can’t blame him for an accident.” She’s right. But something, whether it’s Adair’s convincing arguments or my longing for an excuse to say it’s not my fault, wants me to believe that Carver killed Eli. Maybe by bringing him to justice, it can help me have some closure. I can’t believe it. I’m ready to ruin a boy’s life to cover up my mistakes. I can’t let this anger and sadness ruin me. I stare at the boy I contemplated to ruin and what do I see, him flirting with Jesmyn, and at that moment, something snapped. Here I was hurting and mourning while the person who inadvertently killed Eli is flirting with my dead son’s girlfriend. At that moment, I was filled with an emotion I had never felt before. It was the sincerest form of sadness and longing, but a typhoon of anger and guilt. Half of me wanted to ruin Carver, but the other half knew better. However, just like the fire engulfs a forest, I too became filled with hate and anger. At that moment, I knew ruining Carver’s life wouldn’t bring Eli back, but I will make him rue the day he took my son. I stare at Carver with hate in my eyes as he and Jesmyn walk up to Melissa and me.
Melissa turns to me and says, “I need to use the ladies’ room before we hit the road again.” As Jesmyn and Melissa turn to head to the bathroom, I turn to Carver, and with a hint of malicious intent, I say, “Might as well too.”
We walk into the bathroom, and instantly the smell of pee fills my nose, yet my brain doesn’t process it because it’s too busy plotting ways to ruin my son’s murderer’s life. We did our business in total silence. Somehow, Carver knew the gravity of the situation, and for some reason, I smirked at that thought. I walked to the faucet and started to wash my hands. It reminded me of when Eli was young, and when he used to love to play with the tap. For some reason, he admired the way the water touched his hand and rolled off. Eli could be there for hours, just giggling as the water ran down his hand. He had the cutest little giggle, and hearing it always made me forget about all my problems. Eventually, I had to tell him to stop playing with the water because God forbid what our water bill would be if Eli had his way. However, just when I walked into the bathroom to stop him, he would always bounce to me and grab my hand and show me the water. His hand was so tiny and soft that it would wrap around your finger, and it would feel like one small glove. But after the crash, his hands were dry, rough, and cold, and the only sound he made was the crackling of his body as it was cremated. Why? The answer stood right next to me, washing his hands. Anger swelled in me like the fire that engulfed my son, but I suppressed it and said, “I’m glad we have a second or two alone.” “There’re a couple things I need to get off my chest.”
“Um. Yeah,” Carver replied. I look myself in the mirror, and all I see is a shell of a man filled with sadness, regret, and anger. All because of this boy’s negligent actions, my boy was gone.
“I need to be frank with you, because I understand this to be a day for no bullshit.”
“Okay,” he replies with a hint quivering.
“I’m not entirely at peace with your role in my son’s death.” I face Carver, and I stare straight at him. “By no means am I where Adair’s at. It wouldn’t give me any peace to see you prosecuted and suffer legal consequences.” No, it won’t, but seeing you suffer will do the trick. “But, Carver. Did you have to text Mars when you did? I study historical cause and effect all day. Do you think it’s easy for me to get past this?” No response, but I see he is shaking. His cheeks are turning red, he’s breaking eye contact and losing posture. If he isn’t guilty, why is he freaking out? I step closer to him, “Well?”
“I – I don’t – I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He stutters. Carver slowly edges towards the door, but I’m not done with him yet.
“Yeah!” Anger starts to flood in me, I watch as Carver starts to breathe really heavily, and for some weird reason, it gives me pleasure watching him suffer. Then I remember how to really make him hurt, “Another thing I want to say. It’s fairly obvious that you and Jesmyn have grown quite close – more than you ever would have if my son hadn’t been killed!” I step closer to him and raise my tone, “And I don’t have any authority to tell either of you what to do. But I would really love It if I never had to see or hear about you getting together with my son’s dead girlfriend!” I watch him crumble like a house of cards, and I stand practically over him and say, “Because you at least deserve to not actively profit from his death.” My voice echoes through the bathroom, and hearing “his death” made me realize what I had done. Carver, Eli’s friend, is now on the floor shaking and crying, and I know that Eli would never have wanted this. He wouldn’t be giggling or hugging me, and I don’t think he would even look at me. I look myself in the mirror, and all I saw was the monster I had become. A monster whose marriage is ruined, whose daughter wants to send Carver to the gallows, whose son is dead, and a beast who had lost himself. If my son saw me now, would he even recognize me? Or would he just see an old man, filled with regret, waiting to die alone?
