Lying is easy. It’s easy to say things that you don’t believe, that you know aren’t true. It’s harder to hide your shaking hands, to keep your voice even and natural. I have discovered that most people can learn to control their body language and their tone, and for the most part, that’s enough. However, as I look my mother in the eye and try to tell her that I’m leaving, I find that sometimes, it’s not.

“You don’t have to do this,” she pleads, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’ll always be there---” her voice cracks.

“Mom,” I struggle to speak as my throat constricts, I try to swallow back the tears. “I have to go, it’s for your own good, for Emily’s good.”

At the sound of her name, my little sister toddles into the room. Her clear blue eyes are wide, and she’s clutching her stuffed giraffe with one hand. She comes over to me and lifts her hands up.

“Uppie,” she says, her little voice so innocent, so trusting, that I can’t help but pull her up into my arms.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” I whisper as Emily lays her head down on my shoulder, her pale curls tickling my cheek.

“Then don’t leave,” my mother begs. “Whatever happened, if you’re in trouble, let me help you.”

I shut my eyes and lean against Emily, holding her even tighter. I want to remember this. I need to remember this.

“Mom, there’s nothing you can do,” I groan, keeping my eyes shut. I can’t look at her right now. I can’t see the pain and confusion in her eyes. I can’t see her cry.

Gently, I put Emily down. She looks up at me, her little face contorted with concern. She doesn’t understand what’s happening, but she knows that something’s wrong. I bite my lip, and drop to my knees so I can look her in the eye.

“Emily,” I start, “you know that I love you, right? More than anything else in the world?” I hear my mother cry, but I don’t glance up.

She nods, her ringlets bouncing.

“Then you need to know that I would never leave you if I had another choice, if there was another way…”

I can’t say another word, I take a rattling breath and open my arms wide. Emily runs into them, her small arms around my neck, holding on for dear life. A tear falls down my cheek onto her shoulder, then another, then another.

Suddenly, there’s another pair of arms around me.

“I---I don’t understand what’s happening,” my mother cries, “but just know that I love you and if you ever---if you ever need anything, and I mean anything, I’ll always be here for you.”

I feel like I can’t breathe, like my throat is too full of tears. I want to tell her that I know, that I love her so much, but I can’t. I can’t say a single word.

Her eyes meet mine, blue eyes, like mine and Emily’s, and I see the love there. I remember those eyes watching me grow up, filling with concern as I fell off the swings, filling with pride as I graduated from high school, but always full of love.

And I know as I look at her that I don’t need to say anything, she already knows. She’s always known.

Hesitantly, I let go of Emily and my mother lets go of me. We stand up, and I walk to the door.

“Wait!”

I turn around, one hand on the door knob, as Emily places her giraffe in my other hand.

“No, Emily I can’t---” I try to hand it back to her, but her hands are behind her back and she shakes her head.

I smile as I cry. There’s so much pain and so much love in this room that it’s almost unbearable.

With one last look at the woman who raised me and the child who changed me, I walk out of the house where I grew up, hoping that I’m not making a horrible mistake. Hoping that if I leave, they’ll leave Emily and my mother alone.

My hands shake at my sides and my vision is blurry but I keep walking. One step at a time. One step at a time.


I stand up as I hear the doorbell ring. It’s odd, I think to myself, I’m not expecting anyone and no one I know would bother with the doorbell. I open the door, but there’s no one there. I crane my neck to see if there’s anyone on the street, but it’s deserted.

With a shrug, I turn to shut the door when I see something out of the corner of my eye. I look down and sure enough, there’s a newspaper rolled up on the doormat. I pick it up and shut the door behind me, clicking the deadbolt before returning to the kitchen.

Upon closer examination, I find that it’s not a whole newspaper, just the obituary section. My eyes scan the page, wondering why someone would leave this for me, when I see it.

Miranda and Emily Pearson passed away this morning in a tragic house fire. Miranda, 51, and Emily, 11, are believed to have died of smoke inhalation after the stovetop was left on and caught the curtains, then the cabinets and the wall, on fire. A neighbor called the fire department around 8:30 am when she claimed she saw flames in the window. The fire was put out and no other houses were damaged.

The celebration of the lives of Miranda and Emily Pearson is scheduled for 5 pm Saturday at St. John’s Community Church of Christ.

A reception will be held following the service.

Neither Miranda nor Emily had any remaining family so any concerned members of the community are encouraged to attend.

Across from me, I see the stuffed giraffe sitting on the shelf. It’s button eyes staring at me, reminding me of the sweet person who gave it to me. I rest my head on my arms. I was wrong. It wasn’t enough.