Authors Note: Good feedback on the last chapter. Thanks so much (:
Chapter Twenty Eight:
Fragile
I sat, staring blankly at the wall across from me. I studied the pattern of the wallpaper carefully, over and over again; discerning lines and spirals I had never noticed before. I filed away all the crumbling spots, where it was peeling away from the wall, showing all that lay beneath. In a lot of ways it captured my life perfectly; still slightly intact, but falling apart at the edges, to the point where I was no longer whole.
I felt soft hands on my shoulders, breaking me of my unresponsive state. Slowly I turned my head, meeting a pair of obsidian eyes. Recognition flickered, but it took me a moment to put a name to that face.
Fang.
"It's time to go, Max," he said softly, gently bringing me to my feet. He handled me carefully, like I was a delicate porcelain doll, only a moment of rough handling away from shattering.
I didn't remember much of the last few days. I had no recollection of leaving the gym, or anything that transpired after. Little snippets of memory; a gray sky here, the vinyl of a car there, invaded my thoughts frequently, but I struggled to remember much else. My mind always strayed back to that moment in which my fragile hold on what was left of my reality crashed, fragmenting like broken glass. Iggy's voice played in my head, as if stuck on an endless loop. I could still hear him, clear as day, telling me that he was dead . . .
That he had killed himself.
"Max?" This voice was new, different. It didn't belong to Fang. I blinked, turning to face the door. A younger girl, perhaps by a few years, stood in the entrance, her shoulders hunched. Her skin was a light mocha color; clad in a somber black dress.
Nudge.
"Anything new?" she asked, this time moving her head to address Fang.
Out of my peripheral vision I saw him shake his head sadly, a permanent grimace marring his handsome features. The fact that he was decked out in all black wasn't anything new, but he was still dressed up rather nicely. My brain furiously tried to process this. Where was everybody going?
"Maybe it's too soon. Seeing that won't be good for her," Nudge insisted, her lower lip trembling as she turned her wide, anguished eyes on me. Her warm brown eyes turned glassy with tears, and my brow slightly furrowed. Why did she cry?
"She needs closure. It's the only way she'll get back to normal," Fang argued, his slack grip on my waist tightening. My confusion grew. Was I acting different than usual?
Nudge sighed. "You're probably right . . . But what if she doesn't? Get better, I mean. What if she stays like this. It's not healthy. Maybe she needs help. More so than we can give her."
"What are you suggesting?" The anger in Fang's tone was unmistakable.
"There are places she can go; people she can see. She'll get better faster." My bewilderment at this point was reaching a peak. I felt fine. The hollow emptiness inside still ached, but what use did I have for getting better? Nothing could make the feeling go away.
"She's just in shock. She'll be fine without any psychologists and psychotic doctors trying to pick apart her brain," Fang seethed, sending Nudge a hair raising glare. I gave her credit for standing her ground, but I was becoming fed up with them talking about me like I wasn't standing right there.
"Stop." I almost cringed at the grating sound of my voice. It was like sandpaper being rubbed together, rough and crackling.
Two pairs of anxious eyes swung to stare at me. I glared back petulantly, folding my arms across my chest. My anger was refueling my emotion, giving me strength to replace the emptiness inside me. It was reduced to a dull ache as I forcefully shoved thoughts of him to the back of my mind.
"Max?" they both said at the same time, relief clear in their tones.
I cleared my throat before speaking again. "I don't appreciate you talking about me as if I'm not present."
"She's back!" Nudge wailed happily, a grin stretching across her face in earnest. Even a small smile slipped across Fang's face as he swung me up into a hug that turned the corners of my mouth upward also.
"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I don't know what happened . . ." I trailed off as the burning image of him lying dead with a bullet through his brain came back to me full force. My voice must have faltered, because Fang smoothed down a stray piece of my hair soothingly, his expression concerned.
"It's okay . . . just don't . . . just don't ever do that to me again," he whispered low enough that Nudge couldn't hear. "I was so worried."
"I'm sorry," I repeated. Now it seemed silly that I was so catatonic, just as my mother was. I had briefly lost my grip on the world, but I was back on my feet again. I was strong. I was still Maximum, able to beat all but one. I needed to get ahold of myself. Moping and acting as if the apocalypse had descended would do nothing.
"Nudge, you go ahead with your mom. We'll follow," Fang directed, and Nudge nodded assent with surprisingly few words, whirling before she disappeared down the hall.
"Follow where?" I asked, feeling stupid, like I should know exactly what we were doing.
He hesitated, swallowing to buy his time. I was immediately wary. He noticed my change in expression and tried for a small smile, but the effect was wasted on my growing caution.
"Where?" I demanded, putting my hands on my hips.
"I . . ." Fang trailed off, grimacing. He then gestured to me, and I looked down to see what was wrong. I hadn't really noticed before, but someone had changed me . . . Into a dress. A black dress, that hugged my every curve, billowing out slightly at the waist, where it rested just above my knee.
"Who-?" I began to ask, when Fang quickly answered.
"Nudge's mom was over. Don't worry, it wasn't me."
"Well why is everybody dressed like they're going to a . . ." The realization clicked into place and I began to tremble. My knees locked and I lost my balance, frozen in shock, "funeral . . ." I finished in a hushed whisper.
Fang caught me before I hit the ground, holding me to him. No tears came to my eyes, which I was thankful for, but I still felt like I had been hit with a ton of bricks.
"His funeral's today, isn't it?" I inquired in a strangely calm voice.
"Yeah," Fang replied shortly, watching me carefully.
I regained what scraps of my composure still remained, standing on my full weight. I straightened my shoulders as best as I could, taking a discreet deep breath. Turning to the door I walked slowly, picking up the black jacket someone -most likely Nudge's mom- had left me. I shrugged it on methodically, and noticing the heels by the door, I slipped them on, too.
"Let's go then," I murmured, not looking up at Fang. "We don't want to be late."
"Max . . ." he said gently, coming to stand in front of me. I gazed up into his dark eyes sadly; subdued. There was nothing I could do about it, I realized with utterly clarity. He was gone, and I could no longer prevent that.
"I'm fine," I promised blankly.
He gave me his signature searching look, as if staring deep into my soul. Whatever truth he found there seemed to satisfy him for the time being, because he quit looking at me like I was bound to fall apart at the seams any minute. With a small sigh he brushed his fingertips against my cheek, bending down slightly until his lips pressed against mine with the lightest of pressure. I returned the gesture, placing my hand on his shoulder.
When we broke apart I looped my arm through his, trying to put on a brave face. He led me out silently, the pair of us a dark parade. All through the building doors stayed closed, but I felt the people's presence through the thin walls. No matter what tragedy would occur in my life, there's would stay the same. It didn't influence them one bit.
But I also knew something they didn't. They could go on living their lives, completely ignorant to another's trouble, but there was a thin line between bliss and the rocky precipice of turmoil. Darkness was always lurking just around the corner, striking when you least expect it.
There was a lot of murky shadows in my life. That was just how the cards were dealt. Some had less then others, and it was impossible to prepare for . . . But it would happen. It was inevitable.
As we exited the apartment complex I felt as if a hundred eyes were on my back, but a quick glance behind proved my theory to be wrong. Even as we drove though, the pavement racing beneath us, I couldn't shake the feeling that I as being watched, possibly by the eyes of the ghosts of my past.
All too soon we arrived, and I panicked silently. Was I ready for this? Was I prepared to watch as they lowered him into the ground, never to return? Could I stand to watch as he was buried under dirt and stone, nothing but an empty shell, no longer breathing life?
"Max?" Fang asked quietly, extending his hand. I hadn't noticed that he had retreated from the car, already at the passenger door, beckoning for me. I was still too frozen in fear; fear of my own self-restraint.
"I don't think I can do this," I breathed, gulping down as much air as possible. Was I going to hyperventilate?
"Yes you can," he insisted in that strong, self-assured tone I had come to rely on. "You can do anything you set your mind to."
"Not this," I admitted, turning my wide, frightened gaze on him.
"Gazzy and Angel will be there," he informed me. "They let them come, because they were close to him."
"Really?" A small piece of hope blossomed inside me. If they were at my side, I could endure this.
Fang nodded, once again reaching his hand to me. This time I took it without hesitation, allowing him to lift me from the car. I took a deep breath of the icy air, laced with the smell of dead leaves and browning vegetation. It wouldn't take long for the snow to begin falling, and we'd be soon launched in a perpetual world of whiteness. Maybe a few more weeks.
"This way," Fang said, leading me in the right direction. The fallen leaves crunched beneath our feet, invading the welcoming silence with their piercing notes. A slow, cold wind blew, making the trees shiver where they had taken root.
As we got closer I saw the few figures standing around a certain grave site. Nudge and her mom were there, standing off to the side a bit. They were aquaintances with him through me, and I'm sure they felt like outsiders amongst his family. I smiled sadly at them as I passed, and Nudge's mom squeezed my hand in comfort.
There were a few people I didn't know, some of his friend's maybe, who were all frowning to themselves. I approached his mother and father as they wept. His mom clutched to me tightly in a hug, her sobs muffled by my shoulder. His dad patted my back sadly, looking haggard. I didn't know the two well, but they did love him, no matter what his choices were.
Then I caught a glimpse of windswept blonde curls, and I turned in that direction quickly. Gazzy and Angel, looking small and forlorn, came into sight, accompanied by a brisk looking woman in a business suit. When they saw me they began to run, their tiny feet pounding on the path. I saw the disapproving look on the social security worker's face, but she made no comment.
I bent at the knees just as Gazzy, being faster than his sister, reached me, barrelling into my arms with a sob. I hugged him fiercely, breathing in his boyish scent. When Angel came I made room for her to join the embrace, and her skinny arms wound around my waist with an almost painful strength. I didn't mind, though.
"Your casts are all gone," I whispered to Angel, and she smiled blindingly up at me, nodding her head eagerly. I guess we all did heal at a rather fast rate. Good genes, I suppose.
"I took good care of her," Gazzy said proudly, his grip never slackening from around my neck, "just like I promised."
"I wouldn't doubt it," I sniffled, reminded of my own promise to keep them safe. "I think you two have grown since the last time I saw you," I tacked on sadly, noting their height difference.
We talked for a little more in quiet tones, them telling me all about the orphanage. They didn't make it seem like a vile, rotten place, but they didn't appear happy either.
All too soon our time to speak was cut short, as the funeral began. We all gathered at the edge of his glistening coffin, my throat becoming thicker as each second ticked by. I tuned out for most of the priest's words, only staring at the closed casket. It consumed my entire vision, allowing nothing else to break through. At one point I willed myself to glance somewhere else, but my sight only landed on his gravestone, making me shudder in the dying light of dusk. It read;
Jared Morgan
1984-2010
Beloved son, husband, father and friend
I couldn't help the tears then. I felt one slide slowly down my face, but I didn't have enough energy to wipe it away. Angel was crying by that point too, and Gazzy was trying to hide his hiccups. I clutched them both to my side, holding them tightly.
My vision blurred as the moisture in my eyes built before slowly trickling away in a steady stream. I didn't make a sound as I cried silently. I was aware of Fang hovering nearby. When he saw the state I was in he shuffled over, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I turned my head, burying it in the crook of his neck, Angel squished between us.
The priest droned on, his words coming together in a jumble of words I couldn't understand. I went through the process numbly, waiting to escape. Finally, the casket was lowered into the earth, and I whispered a final farewell, something inside me splintering at the idea of his cold, lifeless body being all alone down there, rotting away.
With one last word our procession began to depart, wandering in different directions. Then all talking between us ceased, dread settling in the pit of my stomach. Everyone grew intensely quiet as a lone figure stepped out from the trees by the side of the path, his head hung low and his hands stuck in his pockets. Whispers rose like the soft wind, confused and biting.
"What's he doing here?" Fang murmured to me.
"I have no idea," I admitted, warily watching Dylan as he traversed across the land separating him from the rest of us. His face was filled with grief, completely unlike his usual cocky, arrogant attitude. He showed genuine despondency at his brother's death, contradicting what he had said before about only getting lucky if he were to die.
Dylan didn't say anything, he just stared down at his brother's grave. I wondered briefly what was going through his head, but tossed the thought aside. I probably didn't want to know. I was just turning away when I saw a single tear escape the corner of his eye, dripping down his chin, and that's when I knew. Most of his tough guy persona was just an act. Most of the things he said, weren't true. He was just as vulnerable as the next guy, just better at being an asshole to cover it.
I quickly turned the other way, before I could get any other ideas. This new revelation didn't excuse what he had done in the past. It didn't make him a better person. Besides, I had long ago decided to stop making excuses for him. In fact, I had all but promised Jared so. I would stick to that, as if it was his last dying wish.
I shared a sorrowful, tearful goodbye with Angel and Gazzy, promising them we would be reunited permanently soon. I shared with them my money-making opportunity, and the hope in their eyes was enough to seal my reluctance.
From behind me someone said my name, and I glanced up from my hug with Angel, turning my head to see a familiar man. A look of bewilderment crossed my features as I tried to recall who he was. Those eyes were eating away at me, and that was when I made the connection. The man I was staring at, whose name I now opened my mouth to utter; Jeb Batchelder.
My father.
Authors Note: *Sniffle* Poor Jared.
On a seriously serious note; I'm not sure if you've noticed yet, but with this story I'm trying to get out a message about some serious issues. Does having to make money under some . . . unfortunate circumstances seem familiar? Does dealing with the pain of an abandoning parent ring a bell? Does having a parent being a drug addict also sound like something you've heard before? Does dealing with someone you know committing suicide offer any memories to be resurfaced in your mind?
All of the above happen in real life, to people all around you. Sometimes it's hard to anticipate or decipher, but it's there. Maybe somebody you know is going through something similar. Maybe you're going through it, too. This is sort of my way to raise awareness, and to give a warning not to be ignorant and judgemental of someone, because at the end of the day, you might not know exactly what they have to go home to. You don't experience the things they do.
So think about all these unfortunate things that happen to Max in this story, and realize that real people go through the same thing every day.
