Chapter One - Tacky Crosses and Pickups

"To ourselves we unite

We can be the new beginning"

Black tux, black shoes, black bruises.

It's funny how even in death a life is reflected before you. It still feels like the person is there, hanging back in the audience, in the pews, behind corners, under doorways. Their name is held beneath every ones tongues, just a breath away.

But no one says anything.

And even if you cling to the headboards, to the point of splinters, and even if you scream into pillows, skies and empty alleyways, that transition is the hardest feeling in the world. It's too sudden. It's too long. You have to get away from the people because they'll never shut up and they're constant reminders with 'are you okay' and 'it'll be alright' and how will it be? Why will it be? Everything should never work right ever again. Everything should stay the same. It won't be all right. It's not going to be, it never will be, and nothings wrong in the first place because they're not gone. Not yet.

"Roxas"

I jerk my head back from the rainbow of a disproportionate Jesus and focus my gaze on the purest form of red I'd ever seen. I stare back into the disturbingly calm eyes of my best friend- my childhood friend- the one who'd stood beside me no matter what, who could recite every detail of my life back to me as I could to him. He forced a smile; cat-like ends of eyes unwrinkled and tried to re-gather his words he'd previously lined up. I continue to stare. I'm angry. I'm sad. I'm glad he's here.

"Axel." I reply. My voice was supposed to be gritty and aggressive but it breaks somewhere in between and melts to nothing. Burned, dry hands with their undeniable warmth are laid over mine briefly and reassuringly as the entire church is ordered to stand and the ceremony begins. I don't think too hard about the hands on mine or how we must look. I just think about my mother, always my mother and what the fuck is going to happen to me now.

I think about the suit I'm in and the sweat that's condensing under my bangs and the urge I have to wipe it away but instead I'm clutching the bible in my hands like it's a life preserver. I think Axel notices how tightly I was holding onto the bible at that point. Maybe he was thinking the same things as me. The look on his face is pleading to get out of there, his eyebrows furrowed and sweat was sliding down his neck. It was way too hot in here and everywhere for that matter in the summer. Tuxedos don't help with the heat.

I know what he wants to say. I know he nor I ever could.

So we don't say anything.

"We are gathered here today, to celebrate the life"

I don't think I could hear correctly. I felt like I was drowning myself. Like oxygen didn't flow around me or within me, that somehow it'd simply stopped. I was connected to her casket, the one I didn't get a single say on. I kept staring, hoping that she'd lift up the sides, or bang on it, admitting this was some kind of joke, or that she wasn't actually dead or that she was okay wherever she was or that-

…of our dearly beloved

I wonder what its like to drown and to never wake up- to die and exist in the hearts of disobedient and self centered people, to leave behind nothing to your only child, nothing but bittersweet memories that they don't have the stomach to hang onto. I wonder how she felt, underneath the surface of the water, watching as her lungs expanded, expanded-

…loving mother and loving wife

I am convinced my father killed her. That he was the last thing she saw as she desperately tried to swim to the surface, losing precious life and breath as she screamed his name between gulps of frozen water. I don't care about the liquid that's seeping down my cheeks now. All I care about is restraining the noise.

…Our holy father

Is there even a soul that resided within her? Did it crawl out from within her as she perished or is it forever frozen within that lake, beneath its own personal casket of waves? They say she looked like an angel when they found her twirling lifelessly in the depths, hands caught in frayed rope-

…The Kingdom of God

And I wonder how a God can ever exist when I am so sad, when everyone is so sad. I am selfish and I am upset and I don't care. I want to die like my mother. I want to sleep and sleep and forever sleep and not have to find a resolution to any of these nagging feelings. I feel like I am staring at everyone's faces, the worried or sympathetic or careless faces, through a haze or a looking glass. I am beneath the surface, and I can't breathe.

The only difference is that I don't want to get out.

Axel lunges for me before my knees can finally give out. Wordlessly, he ushers me out of the crowded church through the back doors as strangers and people I'd never bothered to remember trail back and forth through the pews to receive the 'blood and flesh of Christ'.

He's whispering something to me but I can't hear it. Words crawl towards me too long after they'd been said. The world is spinning a little too fast, I'm walking a little too slow- I'm not walking at all. I close my eyes and I'm being hoisted up, gently and carefully like a piece of glass, and laid into Axel's tattered pickup.

He's calculating something as he looks at me. His eyes are sharp now, nervous, wavering. The green of his eyes seems to glow around his pale flesh.

"I'm only keeping you in here for a minute, so don't worry" I'm not worried, I'm glad. He spins the keys in the ignition as he jerks the air conditioning on full blast. "I know it's weird I'm here" It's not. It's totally expected and in his every nature. My mother was more of a mother to him then the one he had. "but I'm glad I'm here." His eyes crinkle, genuine smile. He looses his tie as he speaks, leaning back into the fabric of the seats. "I couldn't help but miss you kiddo, there's no one like you on the mainland."

I let out air that I'd been holding in. I don't know how long or when I'd started but it just keeps coming. I'm unraveling. All the weight is released from my shoulders and everything just feels normal sitting in Axel's old truck, in the church parking lot, on a perfect summer's day. It feels right just listening to him talk and being close and having that anchor. Having the redhead seated beside me, the anger and loneliness melt away into nothing beneath me.

"I missed you too." The words are tight as my foolish mouth lets them loose. It's times like these that Sora would make fun of; even though we weren't a couple we would say shit like this and act so together. I don't know how many years I spent wishing that the stuff Sora would accuse us of was true. I could never stop thinking about the flawless Axel, the interesting Axel, the wonder and curiosity he was. He kept me on my feet and begging for more- but he was too wrapped up in himself to ever realize. Or he was just too oblivious. We always acted this way.

Axel laughs, running his hands through his hair. Its cold in the car now, perfect temperature and I'm starting to feel more and more normal and relaxed.

"I'm doing my internship now, so that means I can stay around here for a month or so. Although, Roxas," He's serious now, giving me direct eye contact and holding it. "you should come with me. You need to get out of here. Got it memorized?"

I nod.

Axel glances at the clock and then at me. He pats my leg, asks me if I'm okay and he hops out of the truck, demanding to help me down in case I'm still dizzy.

I think about all the ways Axel has changed and the ways the world around me hasn't. The church looks the same the day it did when I was here for my First Communion, the same as it did when Namine's sister Xion was born, the same as forever. The graveyard is filled with bashful crosses and the wood and tombstones are bleached with the summer heat. Trees hang loosely, same as always.

It's comforting but strange. It'll never be the same without mom. She's a piece of invisible scenery now, a memory that dashes to life at pictures and sounds of real things inside of my heart and mind.

I try to etch the feeling of Axel's arms around my waist and the smell of books and ink that clings to his hair- so that when he eventually dies or finally gets bored of me or leaves me I won't forget them. He doesn't notice.

As we walk inside I feel the weight readjust itself over my shoulders. They're saying the last words and I'm standing in the very back, staring at that hateful casket that's finally taking my mother away from me.

It's a week after the funeral and I still can't get the image of a tacky cross standing out sorely on the shore of our lake. Even though it's summer, I bought a fake flower when everyone else bought expensive fancy ones, with elaborate colors and details.

Mine was a plastic white rose.

I stuck it in the clumpy mud and rocks and shoved the stem so far in that it brushed with the part of the cross that couldn't be seen outside of the ground. I feel like my rose is the best out of all the flowers. It'll never wilt away. It'll stay this same shade, this same shape, connected to her cross that isn't connected to her as long as it can. I don't really know if mom even liked roses. I don't think she even really liked flowers.

Thinking about it now I really don't know anything about mom. I never did. Even though I loved her and she loved me we didn't talk about everything and anything. She'd listen to me, she supported me but there were pieces of my life that I kept secret and separate and their were pieces of her life that I could never understand. I feel like this intimacy I feel staring at her cross is something she should be feeling and not me. But then I realize that people aren't supposed to bury their young.

Its funny because no one talked to me at the funeral except for Axel. And no one talked to me at the private burial. And when they gave me my tiny little urn and my tiny piece of mom and said I could 'let her free wherever I wanted' but I didn't want to so I put her in my pocket and made a small promise to the spirit of her- the one that was stuck in the lake or the one that was floating around aimlessly somewhere, or 'smiling down on me'- that I'd let her go somewhere that was truly beautiful and that I wouldn't do it until I was sure.

And people don't talk to me here at the restaurant either. Working here at the Clocktower is nice that way. In all aspects of my life since graduating high school I've made a name for myself where people just leave me alone. I don't like people. I don't get people. Sometimes I think imaginary people and animals are my only friends. The only person I really talk to recently is Sora and he's always busy and even he keeps our conversations short. Simple reassurances, greetings, 'how are you's'. Sometimes he stops by my apartment that I bought once I'd graduated school last year and he drops off food. I feel like a pet when he does that. I told him and he stopped.

It's a shock to have Axel in town because he's the only person that I've remained close to. Even though we don't keep much contact- he calls me once a month to check up on me, sends me birthday gifts and visits whenever he can- we stay close no matter how far apart we get. He's in a professional school for gifted lawyers. It was always his dream. And I'm stuck here doing absolutely nothing, useless and unsure what to make of myself. I'm nothing compared to him. Even though I started this job here to get money so I could go to some university near Axel, I'm left indecisive and convinced that this job is probably the end of it for me.

I scrub these same tables everyday, wiped clean the filth and the age and the leftovers, time and time again. It was weird working today because it'd be another 'first time without mom' thing. Like the first time I got in the car after mom died, and the first time I went to sleep after mom died, and the first time I ate after mom died...

I don't know why any of those firsts were significant at all but they stuck out to me. Life without her is awkward and doesn't feel right. It's like trying to learn how to run after forgetting how to crawl or after years of useless legs. I am wobbly and clumsy and lost. The concept that I'd be doing any of those things without her was foreign. I'd completely taken her for granted.

To do the same thing repeatedly tonight was a blessing, though. It was simple, no thought involved. I could just happily sink into my thoughts, douse the sponge in the tangerine scented water, squeeze delicately, and scrub into the velvet stained wood. Rinse, lather, repeat. I let out my breath evenly, the table quivering under my steady work. Even though I want to rub my eyes I resist the urge. I don't want to get soap in my eyes and I really don't want anyone asking me if anything is wrong.

I pick up the soiled plates and stack them onto the lean tray I've got seated onto the chairs of the booth that I'm worked on. I'll have to take them to the kitchen at some point but we're not busy tonight. I'm glad I can take my time. The Clocktower was always known for its slack though. I think that's why I haven't quit yet. I always manage to weasel my way out of any situation once the going gets the slightest bit difficult.

The signature squeal of my cell phone begins to play as it springs to life in my apron. It's playing "I'm too sexy" so I know exactly who it is. I pick it up right away.

"Axel?"

The other end is a little fuzzy, sounds like wind and people. "….xas…. shift…almo….over right?"

I press the phone closer to my ear as though it'll help.

"Yeah, my shifts almost over, why?"

"….found….sea…lt….ic…m" The static flares aggressively. "Something's happened."

My stomach drops.

What else could possibly go wrong?