I woke on Tuesday with a sense of dread. It was my first day back at school after… well after something big. I wasn’t looking forward to the stares and whispers anyway. It was for this reason that I dressed as simply as possible, I crammed my cheerleading outfit to the back of my wardrobe, I had a feeling I’d never wear it again. After all, cheerleaders are supposed to be cheerful.

I walked into school with my hood up and headphones on. I wasn’t ready for what hit me. The thing is… I was sort of prepared for the stares and whispers and pitiful looks, but what greeted me was different entirely.

“Hey Kelly, missed you last weekend!”

“Hi Kelly, omigosh I just love your hoodie, is it vintage?”

“Kelly! Wanna grab some ice cream later?”

“Great to see you Kelly!”

What was up with people? I’m sure I’ve never even spoken to some of these people yet here they all are, not with stares but with warm words of greeting, when the hell did that happen? Everyone was being so very kind, uncharacteristically so. Was this some kind of joke? A whole school movement to make my first day back even worse than it should’ve been? These people should know I can’t do happiness right now. They’ve all heard what happened.

The biggest shock did not happen at school though. That came when I got home. The weight that had lifted when I walked through the door returned in an instant at the sight of my mum. She was at the stove, making pancakes, dancing to the radio. Of course, this may seem completely normal for most people but the thing is, my mum hasn’t got out of bed a lot since the thing, she spends most of her time staring in to space, a constant expression of pain was what I had come to expect. Her dancing merrily at the stove as if nothing was wrong was either a miracle or an alternate universe.

I approached slowly, still not entirely convinced the person before me was my mum, but then she turned around and her smile grew, “There you are! I was wondering when you’d be back from school, did you have a good day?” I just stared in return, she knew it wasn’t a good day. She knew everyday in my future would be just as bad. Why was she acting like this? I took a step back, still not saying a word. My mouth hung open in shock and I darted my eyes around to look at something, anything other than my smiling mum who’d apparently forgotten why she shouldn’t be happy. My eyes landed on an old pair of my dads glasses. Why were they out? That isn’t right, they shouldn’t be there.

I’m panicking now, the walls are closing in, and so is my mum with a look of concern taking over her otherwise carefree face. Why is this happening? Why has everyone forgot? How can my mum, the person most affected aside from me, carry on as if every single thing in life is perfect.

“Come on honey, put your bag upstairs and then you can help me with tea. You can tell me all about your day.” She smiled reassuringly and, still in complete shock, I did as I was told. My brain was working overtime trying to figure out what had happened, still I came up with no explanation.

“Mum…. Why are you so…. Happy?” I asked. Blunt but I couldn’t think of another way. She laughed, “why wouldn’t I be darling? I get to spend my time cooking tea for the two loves of my life, everything is perfect.” I stared at her completely dumbfounded, “two?” I asked.

“Well yes honey, I do love you as well as your dad, you know.” She laughed again. She must be joking. I was hit with a sudden realisation, she must be blocking out the trauma, like in the movies sometimes. I approached her gently, “mum, dad died in a car crash, last week, remember?” She looked at me like I was mad. We stood for a moment, staring at each other until the unmistakable sound of my dads voice entered the house “Hi darlings, I’m home!” It was at that moment I knew, whatever alternate universe this was, it was the happiest one I could find.