Found My Heart

"Before"

22 years Earlier...

                                                                            (Mitchell) 

    "Dad, please? Please don't go out like this. Please just stay here, with me. I'll get Alice to fix you some coffee?" 

    "Shut up. No one asked your opinion. I can do what I want, and you, you little murderer, can just stay out it." 

    After three years of listening to Dad accuse of me of killing my mother, I have stopped responding. It still hurts, but if I respond it gets worse. Dad is really drunk, and I know if he leaves this house that something bad will happen. I just know it. I don't want him to go, and I don't want him here either, but if he is here no one can get hurt and no one will see him. The last time he was like this, Uncle Buddy had to come and stay with me for a week because Dad never came home. No one knows what its like here at home, and at boarding school I am able to forget about it. I am home now for summer, though, so there is no way to avoid it. 

    "Dad, please? Please can you just stay here?" 

    "SHUT UP! You have no right to speak to me about anything, and I for damn sure don't have to listen to a sniveling child any more tonight." And with that he storms down the hallway and I hear the front door slam shut behind him. Pretty soon I hear one of the cars outside roar to life and pull quickly out of the driveway. 

    I run to the front door, and look out the big window as the taillights pull out of the driveway at the gate and then they are gone. My dad is gone, and I just pray that he is okay and nothing bad happens. 

    Sometime later, I hear the front door open. I run out of my room, and down the stairs to greet Dad at the door. It's not Dad, though, its Uncle Buddy and two police officers. I stop and stare, almost too surprised to speak out loud. 

    "Hey, kiddo!" Uncle Buddy says quietly, with a strained fake-happy sound to his voice. 

    "Uncle Buddy, what's wrong? What did Dad do? Is he okay?" I might only be eight years old, but I have grown up a lot since Mama died. I know something is wrong, and I just need him to tell me what it is. 

    "Well, kiddo, your dad caused a bit of an accident with his car. He is at the hospital, but..." He stopped speaking and looked at the two officers. Something seemed to pass between them, and one of the officers nodded a little bit, then Uncle Buddy looked back to me and spoke again. "Kiddo, your dad caused a bad traffic accident and two people died. A third, a little girl, is at the hospital, and is pretty banged up. Your dad is at the hospital too. I came to take you to him, then we are going to come back here and I will stay with you until Dad can come home, or we know more of what is going to happen. Okay?" 

    I stare at Uncle Buddy. I KNEW something bad was going to happen if Dad left the house. I just KNEW it. This is so much worse than I imagined though. 

    "Mitch, son, you okay?" 

    "Yeah, yeah. Let me grab my coat." I walk to the closet to get my coat, and then realize I need shoes as well. "And shoes." I sat plainly. I walk up the stairs to my room, slide on my Nike's and head back down the stairs. "All ready." 

    The police officers escort Uncle Buddy and I to the hospital, then they walk with us down the hallway of the Trauma Center. My father is out of it when I reach his bedside, and he is alternative between giggling and crying. 

    "Hi, Dad." 

    "Hey, you, get this kid outta here. I don't want him here." This statement was directed at Uncle Buddy. 

    "But, Dad. I came to see you after the accident," I say, reaching for his had, which he tries to pull away, but is stopped chain of a pair of handcuffs pulling tight. I stop when I see this, and I realize that my Dad is in "hospital jail." "Do you want anything, Dad?" I ask because I don't know what else to say or do for him.

    "LEAVE!" He shouts at me. Tears immediately jump into my eyes, and I am a helpless five year old boy, begging my dad to love me all over again. I am only eight years old, but I feel so much older than that. 

    "Okay, Dad. I just wanted to see you. I am glad you are alright, which is more than I can say for the man and woman you killed, and the little girl who lost her parents. Bye." I state and then walk quickly out the room. I can hear my dad cussing me all the way down the hallway. I just keep walking, at least until I see the older woman crying and carrying a small child's blanket walking with a police officer down the hallway. Something in me tells me this has to do with the little girl in the accident. Without thinking, I follow her down the hallway, but stop when I see her enter a room. There is a police officer and a woman in a suit in the room already, but I can still see the bed from here. There is a small, fragile-looking little girl sitting in the bed holding a white teddy bear. She is so still, and she looks like she has been crying. She looks around the room, and then out the door. She is looking directly at me, and I stop breathing. Her eyes are the brightest green. They look like those bright green jewels in my dad's watch that he wears to special meetings, only her eyes are lighter and clearer. Her hair is golden and her skin is pale white, making her look angelic. I keep pulling my eyes back to hers though, and I know that she is important. I don't know why I think that, but she is important to me. I feel a pull toward her, and I want to go to her, to comfort her. To tell her it is all my fault, and ask her to forgive me, but I can't move. Her eyes have me stuck to my spot. 

    Suddenly, the door closes, and I am separated from her. Without knowing what I am doing I start walking toward that door, but a hand clasps down on my shoulder and I find that my Uncle Buddy has caught up with me. 

    "Come on, Kiddo. Let's get you home." He puts his arm around me and guides me out of the hospital, not even allowing me to look at the little girl's name. I will find out what it is though, I have to. I know I have to.