My Prince Loki
I was at Billie’s place on the 12th of September 2002 when I found out about my Mother’s accident. I had been spending that night over at Billie’s watching movies with her and Jenny. That night we were supposed to be finishing off our homework we had been given before summer break had started. But like most teenagers, we had grown distracted and were by that point watching movies. We had been laughing at “The Mask”when we heard a soft knock at Billie’s door.
“Come in!” We yelled together giggling expecting to see Billie’s Mum Linda grinning broadly at us with food or saying goodnight.
Although when the door opened we were greeted with two police officers, one male and the other female. The strong faced officers held glim expressions at the three of us, their police caps off in their hands showing their blonde haired heads. Behind them I could see Linda looking out of the window to Billie’s backyard, her shoulders shaking violently, her sobs louder thanJim Carrey singing and dancing with the Police officers on screen.
“What’s going on?” Billie asked, her voice breaking at the end as she tried to look around the officers to her mother.
The female officer spoke first after clearing her throat,
“Hello girls, I’m Constable Peterson and this is my partner Constable Wayne.” She motioned to her partner who nodded once at us all with a small smirk. All three of us said hello, confusion heavy in our voices.
“We were wondering if we could have a word with Louisa for a moment.”
My heart jumped violently in my chest,
“Me?” I asked confused.
At that moment I went back over my activities over the month to see if I had over stepped the law. I was a good teenager and never really that rebellious so I didn’t understand or know why they would want to talk to me.
The police officer pressed her full lips together,
“Could we discuss this outside your friend’s room, maybe in the sitting room that’s more accommodating for all of us to sit down?”
I nodded feeling extremely nervous as I got up, Jenny walking with me, Billie racing over to her mother. We let the officers walk up ahead, Jenny glancing at me as we walked down Billie’s hallway to her sitting room,
“What do you think’s going on?” Jenny asked her voice panicky shaking a little.
“I don’t know, I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong.” I said swallowing tightly feeling my body shake and buzz with nerves. My stomach snuck at the image of my Mum’s cross face,
“But if I have, I just hope they haven’t told Mum.”
At that moment I heard Billie cry out in agony making my heart sink. Her sobbing of the word, “no” repetitively, Linda’s cries now softer confronting her daughter.
I turned around with Jenny to look at my friend grasping her Mother tightly, both of them trembling violently with tears.
I swallowed hard wondering again with racing thoughts what I had done wrong. Maybe they knew about Dad’s death now, I had thought panicking; maybe they know Loki killed him. Maybe they know I was connected to Loki and I’ll get heard as a partner to the crime.
I was called in by the officers, my heart racing my eyes now scanning all the exits. All I wanted to do was run away - escape because I knew I was going to get blamed fully for Loki’s crimes. At that moment I thought Linda and Billie’s cries meant they knew I was going to jail, I was going to prison. I thought they were crying because they were mourning the girl they thought I was and were now scared of me.
And that’s why I started crying along with tears of fright. I didn’t want to go jail, it wasn’t my fault; I didn’t do it.
“I didn’t do it.” I told them in tears panicking, “I didn’t kill my Dad! I didn’t!”
Constable Wayne had swallowed tightly with his eyes beginning to beam with tears,
“Louisa could you please sit down.” He told me, his voice breaking at the end which he tried to cover up with a cough.
I had sat down shaking violently. He must not want to take my jail either, I remember thinking.
I was so wrong.
Jenny grabbed my hand tightly just as Billie came in with her Mother; all the eyes facing me were sad and looked sorry for me. Billie put her arm around my shoulders, I remember her arm weight pulling my hair down and not doing anything about it.
The next words that were said to me by Constable Peterson still make my heart stop in its tracks making throat tight.
“I’m sorry Louisa but your Mother was involved in a head on collision with a truck earlier this evening.”
“Is she ok?” I asked, my heart seemingly not beating in my chest. I was hoping, almost praying for them to say she was ok, she was in hospital waiting to see me with some broken bones.
She swallowed her eyes sad,
“The individual at the scene tried to revive her, but unfortunately her neck broke in the impact of the crash.”
I didn’t believe it when I first heard it nor did I believe it all the other times I was reminded that my Mother was died over those coming weeks. Fact of the matter is that I still don’t believe it. I still want to believe that my Mother’s alive somewhere trying to find me.
But I know deep down, she’s gone. She’s never coming back. Never going to hold me and protect me, never going to put me to bed at night. She’s never going to see me get married or be my other hand to hold when I give birth. She’s never going to be a Grandmother to my children and spoil them rotten with gifts or her love.
The month after Mum died went a lot like the month after Loki left. The days were slow and long. I didn’t move really at all for that week, I just sat in the one place, whether it was on a bed or a sofa staring at one section of the wall in front of me.
Like with Loki, Billie and Linda tried taking me out of the house away from the grief but it just followed me. When we went to the zoo, I cried seeing the giraffes, my Mum’s favourite animal. But unlike before where I smiled to cover my grief, I let my friends see I was hurt as I was encouraged to cry when I needed to, regardless of whether I was in public or not.
The nights were just as long as I couldn’t sleep through. When I did sleep people found me at the door of the house trying to get out. I was convinced my Mum was lost somewhere and the person they had found in my Mother’s car wasn’t her, it was someone else. I even thought this when I was taken to the coronersand was looking down at my Mother’s battered face having to confirm that was her lying there. I didn’t want to believe that that pale lifeless body was my Mother with the dark shadows under her eyelids.
I stayed with Billie and Linda for a week till I was taken to a foster care. I didn’t bother to remember the woman’s name that looked after me; all I know is that she had kind brown eyes and arms I didn’t want to be held in. I just wanted Mum to hug me, not her.
The funeral happened a week later that I had some input to since my Mother hadn’t made a funeral plan. All she wanted was to be cremated and her ashes to be sprinkled over the Grand Canyon.
That last wish still hasn’t been granted.
I had made sure Loki’s poem (which I called “Farwell Warrior” and had taken full credit for) was in the service along with a similar send-off I gave to my Grandmother at the end to my Mother.
This time the boats were made from orange, blue and purple poster paper, all of which were my Mother’s favourite colours. Each of these boats had a small braided rope of sweet grass and a white sage stick they would light and place into the papered boat after they had smudged themselves. Then each guest would then place the stick into the boat lighting up the sweet grass and say some words to my Mother before letting it drift down the stream. Jenny had researched both of these herbs for school and had found them to be used a lot in native Indian tribe recitals. So in a sense I was bringing a bit from America’s past along with my own spiritual pasts.
So many people who had known her as a teenager and as my Mother came, all of them staring at me with curious eyes when the celebrant mentioned me during the service. A handful came up to me to talk to me at the wake as I stood near my two best friends (who never left my side along with the foster parent) all telling me how brave and beautiful of a woman my Mother had been and how beautiful the service was.
When this happened I just felt touched letting these people hug me. These encounters, while they were short, let me know more than anything my Mother was loved by others just as much as she was loved by me.
I was even touched when Steven turned up. He had sat at the very back of the hall where my Mother’s funeral was being held and had been one of the last people to give their condolences to me.
Granted at first I wasn’t happy to see him and nearly yelled violently at him to get out. But instead of acting out in hysterics, I gave the man a chance.
When he reached me his eyes were roar with tears, his nose red.
“Hello Steven.” I greeted him with a forced gentle tone.
“Louisa I’m sorry,” he said, his voice had creaked,
“I’m so, so sorry for your lose. Your Mother was a beautiful and one- “He had breathed out heavy like he had been composing himself,
“- amazing, amazing woman.”
I swallowed tightly, “Thank you.”
“And while you and I didn’t get along I just want you to know that you are one brave and intelligent girl and I was always admired by your strength and...Imagination. Even if both you and your friend didn’t like me.”
“And I’m sorry for how I treated you, I realize now it was wrong. You don’t have to forgive me but…I’m sorry.”
With gentle hands he gave my hand a pat and one last tight smile, the Officer not knowing as he left I held a small amount of respect for him.
The woman who had tried to revive her also came. During the wake she kept to herself silently observing the chatter but after a while had the courage to come up to me to apologize. I still remember seeing her blue eyes filled with tears as she apologized over and over to me, her voice heavy with remorse.
While at first I was angry to see her, angry she didn’t try harder to help my Mum, I then realized this woman must have had tried her hardest. I gave this woman a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek (which at the time was very out of character for me) thanking her for trying to rescue my Mum. She left soon after giving me a bunch of flowers I added to the collection.
Although, the one person I wanted at the funeral never turned up. I never saw his green eyes weeping for me or felt his strong arms I desperately wanted to hide in.
The only sign I did see of Loki mourning for me was after the funeral. When I went back to my foster home I found my rose, instead of being the crisp orange to signify autumn, it was a deep midnight blue and had welted off its autumn petals.
I haven’t explained it in here but the rose never welts, so yeah…there’s some imagery for you.
Tell me what cha think!