TW: Death of a family member
The world had lost its color. Outside, the sky's hues ranged from faded black to a ghost of gray like charcoal smeared across a blank canvas. Grass on the lawns of all the nearly identical houses had become lifeless and brittle. The air itself seemed to hold its breath for the oncoming season while the intermittent winds gave a warning of the chill yet to come. Winter was on its way.
Inside the Lopez family's home, Santana curled her legs a little closer to her body and snuggled deeper into the baggy hoodie that covered her torso. Her dark eyes squinted at the text of the book in her hand and worked to focus on the next paragraph. Without her reading glasses, all the letters blurred at the edges but she refused to cross the cold foyer in her bare feet and ascend the stairs to her room. She rationalized that this was just as well since someone might spot her embarrassing eyewear through the window and so she continued to muddle through without it.
When she was prepared to move on to the subsequent passage, Santana attempted to turn the page but her hand slid uselessly along the edge. The twelve-year-old sighed, licked the tips of her fingers, and tried again. Her skin had been inexplicably dry all day and made a grating, sandpapery sound each time she rubbed her palms together for warmth. Now it was keeping her from escaping the dullness of the day by freezing her at that exact moment in her novel, holding her motionless in the story so that she could not move forward.
That was when the faint noise came from outside. It was indistinct and distant but her gaze found the source immediately. The dual clicks had come from the echoing report of closing car doors. Two men were walking away from the vehicle and up the drive toward the cement porch. As they passed the yellow ribbons tied to the front pillars, Santana got a clearer view of them that provided insight into the visitors' identities. Stoic faces, erect posture, and stiff uniforms – soldiers.
For a fraction of a second, Santana was convinced that her blood stilled. Her face went ashen and she forgot to breathe. The book clattered to the floor and slammed shut after it dropped from her slack hands. Then she rose onto unsteady legs and went to answer the bell they had already rung. In her mind, she was running but a removed part of her consciousness was dimly aware of how her steps had become leaden and labored.
Santana's hand trembled violently as she turned the handle. She did her best to concentrate on the message she knew the men were going to deliver but their voices couldn't reach her ears. It was all a weak reverberation like sound trying to cut through water. Swift shadows flew across her vision and suddenly she was on the floor with her mother crying overhead. The world's volume abruptly restored itself and then that noise was the only thing in existence - just a wretched, sorrowful wailing.
Her numbness settled over her like a protective blanket. The funeral could not touch her because she was simply too far away. The one thing she could sense was her best friend Brittany's hand in hers while they lowered the casket. Santana had insisted that the other girl be allowed to stand beside her the entire time for support.
No other feeling returned until a week later when she went into her brother's room for the first time since he had gone. She brought Brittany with her just in case it proved too overwhelming to face on her own. They entered the abandoned space with bated breath and an involuntary shiver ran down their spines. All the memories still hung so heavily in the air and clung to personal effects that had once belonged to a central figure in their lives.
Brittany settled gingerly on the carpet beside the bed and tugged her legs against her chest. With a shaky but inviting smile, she beckoned for her grieving friend to join her. They sat side-by-side in silence with only their knees touching and just remembered.
In her hand, Santana clutched the letter her sibling had written to be delivered in the event of his death. She had seen the hurt in her parents' eyes when she refused to share the words he had committed to the page. They did not understand why their daughter would not view the message and speak aloud whatever farewell her brother had wished to give. True, the special goodbye was a treasure beyond description but, for that very reason, it was one Santana could not yet bring herself to open.
So she stowed the envelope in a drawer of his desk where she knew no one would find it. Then she reached out for Brittany's hand and they left the empty room behind them. Santana pulled the heavy door toward her and, with that final snap, shut away all mention of what she had lost.