How Can I Smile?
By Reya W.
“Smile. Keep your head up. Don’t let them break you.” His voice echoed in my head. “Smile. Don’t let them see your tears.” My eyes welled up. “Smile. Don’t let them see what you really feel.” I inhaled shakily. “Smile. Smile because I will always be here waiting for you. For your smile.” I broke.
Tears flooded down my cheeks. My curled up frame rattled with sobs. A tornado of emotions attacked me. I finally let myself cry. I cried until the panic, the fear, the sorrow, the loss, overwhelmed me. I cried until salty tears filled my mouth. I cried until my eyes dried up and all I could do was lay there.
How was I expected to go on? How could I pretend like everything was fine? How could I function when the last thing I ever cared for was gone? How can I smile if you are not there to smile back?
Two days. That’s all it took for my world to crumble. The police didn’t believe me. They told me he would be home. Even I had believed it for a while. But they didn’t know him like I did. And the reality was just settling in. He wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t leave me. No call. No texts. No notes. It had only been 48 hours. But I knew he would never leave like this.
I heard him again and the words he said as he dropped me to school, his brown wavy hair that we shared was messy, our smiles reflecting in each other's matching ocean blue eyes . “I love you, Teagan. I’ll see you soon.” That was not normal. It was always “To the moon,” our way of conveying what we felt. And he never called me by my full name. It was always just Tea.
My chest began to feel tight, and panic washed over me in relentless waves. Not now! I couldn’t handle a panic attack right now! Rowan had always helped me, had always calmed me down. But now, he was the reason that I could not breathe. I could still hear his voice, calming me. I could hear him telling me to picture the puppy we had planned to get. To pretend that it was “Hairy Paw-ter” sitting on my lap. I rubbed my hand along the blue pillow I was holding, just as I had done when he sat next to me, imagining I was rubbing our dog’s fur. Just the thought of Rowan’s stupid names for the puppy made me let out a small, calming laugh that got swallowed in panicked sobs once again.
A loud knock echoed through our small apartment, followed by the door swinging open and a woman's deep voice calling out, trying to mask her sorrow. “Teagan?” Evelyn’s warm, familiar arms suddenly embraced me, muffling my cries as she plopped down beside me on the tattered couch. She stayed like that, rubbing circles on my back, until my heart beat settled and I could finally breathe again. I let out a yawn and a sigh of relief. “Oh, Teagan. I’m so sorry, kid. I can’t believe—” She abruptly began shaking and whimpering, a sound so unlike the bold girl I knew. Evelyn had always come off as confident, from the first day I had seen her tall frame, raven hair and blue eyes standing out on pale skin. Pure emotion was rarely seen across her pretty face.
I shifted around so that I was facing Evelyn, and suddenly felt like an idiot. Tears slowly carved a path down Evelyn’s cheeks, her pale, flawless face flushed red. For the past two days, I had been acting like I was the only person affected by this loss, like I was left alone. But Evelyn knew Rowan, maybe even loved Rowan, and I had not even thought to call her. She was sniffling, the only form of sadness I had ever seen from her. I didn’t know what to say, what to do, but I wanted to stop crying and help like Rowan would. Yet, his voice rang in my head again.
“Cry as much as you need, kid. I know you, I know that you think that you need to be there for everyone. But take your time. Let yourself feel.” I remembered how puffy his own face was when he had said this. Only hours after we had learnt the tragedy of our parents. He was 17, I was 9, and we sat here on this very couch, holding each other as we sobbed, wishing we could turn back time and stop them from ever getting in that car. And now again I was shaking, as I held on to Evelyn the same way.
✦ ✦ ✦
The day wore on, waves of grief crashing ferociously over me every time I felt close to being able to think straight. I abandoned all hopes of making it to school any time in the near future. Right now, it wasn’t even possible for me to stomach any sustenance without dredging up bright memories of Rowan that left me shivering in despair. A sip of hot chocolate on the freezing December night brought back the scent of cookies–never gingerbread, always double chocolate–that we baked and ate alongside a cup of steaming cocoa while we unwrapped our small presents for each other every Christmas morning, a day that was slowly, inevitably dragging closer. A boiling bowl of instant ramen, mine and Rowan’s comfort food, reminded me of the time when Rowan came home to find me curled up under the covers with tears flooding down my face because I had just been dumped by my first boyfriend, and Rowan didn’t know what else to do other than sit with me as I ate bowl after bowl of spicy ramen and piece after piece of chocolate until the pain went away.
Eventually, with the little food I managed to shove down, the happier the memories they brought with them made me feel. I began to smile, not cry when I recalled Rowan’s laugh, a loud sound that was hilarious in and of itself; most times you couldn’t tell whether he was laughing, hiccuping, or crying, while he was bent over in stitches. I giggled to myself, finally able to hold off tears as the vivid images of him chasing me around our small apartment while he tried to force spoonfuls of his disgusting attempt at peach cobbler into my mouth flooded my head. But most of all, I fondly remembered the way he loved puzzles and games, how he would sit buried in mystery books, and how every Monday before school, he would hand me a riddle and give me a week to solve it.
I jolted up, setting my empty bowl of ramen on the coffee table. I couldn’t sit still so I paced back and forth, my head clearing. He knew. He knew, he was trying to tell me. The unnatural goodbye. The way he had stayed with me at home the past few nights. The careful way he made a to-do list, something he had never done before. And the way he had methodically walked around the apartment when he thought I was asleep, stopping every so often to… I didn’t know what he had done.
I stopped my pacing at this last recollection. I was now standing by the kitchen island, one of the places in our home that I knew he had stopped at that night. Puzzles. He loved them; he loved making them. Three years ago on a Monday morning when I didn’t have school. He left the first clue to my Monday puzzle on the same table. Hours later I figured out that the underside of the island had a notch just big enough for my pinky finger to pull. Hidden inside was a key. That key had taken me a while to figure out. It led to a safe in his room, a part of a bigger puzzle.
Now, I felt that for that notch again. My fingers found it easily, and I pulled down on it once again. This time, sitting there was his to-do list. The only one he had ever made. As I unfolded it, a cool metal object fell into my palm. I looked down. A small golden key sat in my hands. The same key that was there three years ago. The same key that unlocked his safe.
I scanned the to-do list. Nothing at first glance caught my eye. Then I noticed the last item on the list. ‘First floor of department stores for Teagan.’ The word floor was italicized, and there it was again, my name fully written out. I ran to Rowan’s room, throwing open the doors to be greeted with his familiar scent, stronger here than anywhere else in the house. I gasped in pain as I noticed everything was exactly in the same place as it had been three days ago. I let a lone tear fall, then I took a deep breath and focused. The floorboards creaked under my feet as I bent to search them. One of the panels gave way at one end under my fingers; the other end stretched upwards and I slid my hand under the small gap. Underneath the panel, the black safe sat patiently, unlike me at the moment. I fumbled with the key as I slid it into the safe, sighing I saw a combination lock underneath the first one.
I sighed. I put the safe back under the floorboard. I walked out of Rowan’s room. My eyes wandered around our living room. I turned back to Rowan’s list. ‘Micheals, one block up and three blocks to the left of Home Depot’ I caught sight of the pictures surrounding the window and I recalled how we had sat patiently, hanging every single photo up the first day we moved into this apartment. We had just got back from Home Depot with curtains to put on the rod above the window. Home Depot!
I ran over to the window and reached up to the picture frame directly above it: a black and white professional photograph of our family before our parents’ car accident. We are sitting in the vast, flower covered yard of our old home, flowers in my hair and my mom’s, 12 year old Rowan in a suit, my dad wrapping his arms around me, my mom in a beautiful dress. My heart ached every time I saw that photo. One to the left was me standing on the Long Island beach, ice cream in my hand. Next to that was Rowan on his first day of second grade. In those two photos, Rowan and I were about the same age, and side by side, it looked like pictures of twins. Our expressions were even the same, silly smiles with our tongues out.
The third one was me and Rowan outside the door of this apartment when we moved in 2 years ago, Evelyn standing behind the camera. I reached out to grab the photo, pulling it close. Rowan had an arm wrapped around my shoulder in his usual protective manner. I was 13 and my head barely reached Rowan’s chin, but I was attempting to reach around his shoulders as well–unsuccessfully. We each clutched a duffle bag in our hands; all of our other belongings were in the beds of Rowan’s friends’ trucks.
I tore my eyes away from the precious picture and turned the frame around. Quickly, I scanned the back for written numbers, but my eyes caught on a small etching in the frame. Ⅵ/Ⅱ/Ⅻ. My birthday in Roman numerals. Rowan always had an obsession with Roman culture.
I took the frame with me as I walked towards Roman’s room and set it down gently on the floor while bent to find the right board. It lifted up easily and I slid it to the side. Carefully, I lifted the safe out of its hiding place. I slipped the key into the slot again and the door swung open. The dial sat in the center of the metal and I tested it, realizing it was the same as the one on my school locker.
I turned the dial slowly and carefully to each number. Clockwise, counterclockwise, clockwise again. I pushed the lever up and it clicked before opening easily. Inside, there was a single booklet, no bigger than my palm. The cover was the same color as my eyes. Rowan’s eyes. I flipped it open to the first page and began to read.
November 29th, 2023.
Tea
If you are reading this, I was right. You probably don’t remember what I mean, but I was right.
A memory enveloped me. Rowan had just got home. He tiptoed into my room and sat down on my bedside when he saw I was awake. I remembered talking to him, but I didn’t remember what we had discussed. Right before he left, he whispered something in my ear.
“Years from now, we’ll see who’s right.”
December 1st, 2027.
Tea
If you are reading this, you are next. I can’t bear to hurt you more, but you are next.
Next for what?
December 2nd
Tea
If you are reading this, I miss you too. I know you must be in pain, and I feel the same.
I inhaled shakily to stop myself from crying again. I went back to reading. I barely heard a click from outside the room.
December 3rd.
Tea. I tried to give you as much time as possible. I really tried but now it’s too late.
Panic started to arise. I couldn’t stop reading.
4th
Tea. Please. Run. Get out of here. PLEASE.
Another click sounded behind me. Now I was terrified but I still couldn’t stop reading. I needed something that was Rowan’s again.
5. Stop reading. Run.
There was a single page left.
If you kept reading Tea, there’s no time left. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I got you into this. I love you Teagan. Now listen to me. I’m beging you! Turn around.
I knew what he meant now. I could hear his voice while I was reading; I could almost see his thoughts. For two years he had tried to protect me, but I convinced him to let his guard down. And I was next. I didn’t know why or how, but I was next. At least if I was next I could be with Rowan again. I let out a soft cry of fear and a single salty tear sliped down my cheeks. Trembling in dread, I slowly rose to my feet and turned around.