I'm Sorry, Mommy

Burying a Statistic

Episode 02:

The next few days passed the way most days did.

Quietly.

Issi folded laundry while a television she wasn't really watching played in the background, and Micah and Elias filled the room with noise. She answered emails. Paid bills. Ignored a voicemail she didn't feel like returning.

Life had a way of continuing even when part of you didn't.

By midmorning, she found herself standing in the floral section of a grocery store.

White lilies.

Her favorite.

Without thinking, she picked up a bundle and carried it to the checkout. The cashier smiled. Issi smiled back. Neither of them said much.

It wasn't until she pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine twelve minutes later that she realized where she was.

The cemetery.

For a moment, she simply stared through the windshield while the flowers rested quietly in her lap.

A breath escaped her.

"Well..."

A sad smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"I guess I'm here."

She gathered the flowers and made her way down the familiar path. Birds called from somewhere in the distance.

By the time she reached Kiya’s headstone, it felt as though no time had passed at all.

Issi knelt and began to replace the flowers again.

"Hi, baby."

The words came easier now.

Not because they hurt less.

Because they didn't.

But because silence hurt more.

For a while, she simply sat there.

Listening.

Thinking.

Remembering.

Her hand pressed against the letters of her daughter’s name.

"Kiya Lawson."

The name settled heavily on her chest.

“…Some memories arrive gently. Others force their way to the surface.

“This one did neither.

“It simply appeared.

“Waiting.

“Patient.

“This other memory came from a time when you were still out there somewhere. Still slipping further away from me every day.

“The nightmares rarely arrived the same way twice. Some came wrapped in accusations. Others came in disguise.

“But they all ended the same.

“Another night.

“Another dream.

“A different fear.”

Her fears lingered like a persistent itch she couldn’t scratch.

Issi swallowed hard and looked beyond the flowers she had replaced, then started telling her daughter all about the memory.

“…The pavement cracks open beneath my feet. The ground oozes through the cracks and wraps itself around my ankles like hands.

“I try to scream, but the sound is buried beneath the dirt filling my mouth.

“It tastes like copper and shame.

“My body sinks inch by inch until only my face remains above the surface. My eyes are wide, staring up into the dark abyss.

“Voices murmur in the distance, and their words pierce through me like bullets, each one carrying something already decided about who I am:

THE WORLD ALREADY BURIED YOU.

IMMATURE.

UNFIT.

CRAZY.

INADEQUATE.

“And then...

“Silence.”

Issi paused.

“The dreams always seemed to end abruptly, without a resolution.

“I remember reaching for a glass of water when I woke up. It shook slightly in my hand.

“The dream felt wrong because I could still feel the dirt.

“The weight.

“The voices crawling under my skin.

“After a while, I would lie back down, my eyes heavy again.”

She felt like she could sit with her daughter for hours as the morning drifted by.

What seemed like overdue confessions released by guilt urged Issi to continue talking to her daughter.

“This time, the silence didn’t wait.

“It swallowed me whole once again.

“This time, heat came first.”

Issi wrung her hands as though she were standing before a jury of her peers, confessing to yet another memory of a dream.

She reached out to the stone as if what came next were a deep-seated confession and shared it anyway.

“…The parking lot shimmers in front of me, the cracked pavement warped by sunlight.

“A baby’s muffled cry rises from somewhere close.

“Faint.

“But piercing.

“My heart kicks against my chest, and my eyes search wildly until I see it.

“A car.

“Doors locked.

“Windows rolled up tight.

“My reflection stares back at me from the driver’s side glass.

“Frantic.

“Unrecognizable.

“Inside, a baby lies on its back, tiny fists stretched toward a bottle, mouth open, screaming.

“The keys I thought were in the door disappear.

“‘No… no… no!’

“I yank at the handle.

“It won’t move.

“I begin to sweat beneath the heat of the beaming sun, and the car door is hot beneath my hand.

“I beat my palm against the window.

“My voice cracks.

“I’m right here, baby! Right here!’

“But the sound of my own voice fades.

“I cry out, close my eyes, and turn away.

“Then the crying stops.

“Everything freezes.”

Issi jumped to continue, as if she could see her daughter sitting up with anticipation, asking, What happened next, Mommy?

“…A fluorescent light blinks on.

“Then I’m standing in a hotel hallway.

“The carpet beneath my feet is red, soft, and endless. I stretch forward, and the doors multiply.

“At the far end, a child’s laughter echoes lightly off the walls.

“‘Kiya?’

“I call your name and run forward, passing door after closed door.

“I see your small body turn a corner and vanish.

“‘Stop!’

“I shout, but the air thickens around me, dragging at my feet.

“When I finally reach the end, only silence is waiting.

“No laughter.

“No child.

“Then a door slams.

“Now I’m standing outside an apartment.

“Dim.

“Familiar.

“Through the thin window, I see a little girl sitting on the floor with a toy car. Her expression is calm and distant.

“‘Baby, open the door,’ I beg, pounding against it until my knuckles throb. ‘Please.’

“You look up.

“Our eyes meet through the glass.

“You don’t cry.

“You don’t smile.

“You just stare.

“Your hand presses flat against the window.

“I press mine against the other side.

“Just cold glass between us.

“And years of everything I couldn't fix.

“Then thunder cracks and shatters the glass.

“I shield my eyes before looking again.”

Recalling the final part of this particular dream, Issi shifted awkwardly as a flood of disappointment and anger seeped into the time she was spending with her daughter.

“The walls dissolve into gray.

“Suddenly, I’m in a cell.

“The air stings of bleach and metal.

“Across from me, behind the cell door, stands a nineteen-year-old version of me.

“Thinner.

“Angrier.

“Her eyes are burning.

“‘You thought you were grown! You thought you didn’t need anyone,’ my younger self shouts.

“‘I just wanted to be strong.’

“‘Strong? You were scared.’

“The echoes rise.

“One voice multiplies into dozens.

“Every insult.

“Every label.

“Every stereotype I heard at nineteen becomes louder.

“‘Too young.’

“‘Childish and irresponsible.’

“‘Can’t raise a child right.’

“Each word hits me like a slap.

“I scream back until my throat feels torn.

“Then—

“A metallic click.

“‘Benoit,’ a voice calls. ‘You're being released.’

“The door groans open.

“I step forward.

“Unexpectedly, my wrists are free.

“I look down.

“There are no cuffs.

“No jumpsuit.

“A military uniform hugs my body instead.

“Polished dress shoes.

“Pressed fabric.

“The kind of power I once wore.

“Then I turn back.

“Inside the cell I left behind stands a little girl, no older than six years old, holding a soft, pastel-patched baby blanket with its corner pressed against her lips.

“Kiya.

“Your eyes shimmer with something caught between guilt and goodbye.

“I reach out.

“My voice trembles.

“‘Kiya?’

“You mouth four words.

“I’m sorry, Mommy.”

Issi blinked through the memory.

“But you never had anything to apologize for.

“I spent months thinking maybe I did.”

For a while, Issi didn’t say anything.

The morning wind shifted.

The silence felt full somehow.

Not empty.

Just unfinished.

Eventually, the sun climbed higher, reminding her that the world was still moving.

Reluctantly, she rose to her feet.

There were groceries to buy.

Phone calls to return.

A life waiting beyond the cemetery gates.

She brushed the grass from her jeans and looked down one last time.

There was always one more story.

One more question.

One more thing she wished she had remembered to say.

But those thoughts followed her everywhere now.

"Love you, baby."

She smiled softly.

Then she turned and walked away.

The conversation followed.

THE STORY ISN’T FINISHED.

You’ve reached the end of your complimentary Burying a Statistic episodes.

Issi still has more to tell Kiya…

The story continues for Storykeepers on November 1. CONTINUE EXPLORING THE UNIVERSE →