I awoke on the couch in the living room. I groaned and stretched, my
muscles aching. "You're awake," Catherine said, from the other side of the
couch. Her eyes were bloodshot, a mix of crying and lack of sleep.
From the kitchen, I heard the mechanical hum of the coffee machine. If it wasn't for Catherine's presence in the room, I might have thought that the night before had just been one big nightmare.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried hard to imagine that things were back to normal. I could almost hear my parents rushing around the kitchen with their cups of coffee, getting ready for work. "Morning, Amy," Gil said, coming into the room and interrupting my fantasy. He leaned over and kissed my forehead.
He looked over at his wife, and the two had a wordless exchange. "Umm...the funeral's tomorrow," Gil said, turning away from me and studying the pictures over the mantelpiece. I saw the pain in his face, the unshed tears. I knew he had always loved my mother, even before my father ever met her.
Catherine sniffled and wiped fresh tears from her eyes. My gaze moved back and forth between the two of them. "Excuse me," Catherine said, getting up and hurrying down the hall to the bathroom. I heard the slam of the bathroom door.
At the sound of the slamming door, Gil turned around to face me. "She's really broken up about this," he explained. Not that her behavior really needed any explaining at all. I felt like doing the exact same thing. But I couldn't. He looked around, his eyes drooping with exhaustion. "Why don't you go upstairs and pack some clothes to bring to our house for a few days," he suggested. I knew that now I would be moving in with them. No one needed to tell me. It was expected. "And try and find something to wear tomorrow." He let his voice trail off, unable to say the dreaded word that would bring the horrible truth crashing down on all of us.
I nodded, still unable to speak. But when I reached the doorway, I turned around to face him. "I'm sorry," I said softly. Confusion filled his face. "I know you really loved my mother." I turned and left then. I couldn't bring myself to watch his face, but I could hear his stifled sobs.
I dug through my dresser, pulling out random pairs of pants, shorts, and shirts to pack for Gil and Catherine's house. When I finished with that, I ransacked my closet for anything to wear to the funeral. I didn't have a single thing though. I had only been to one funeral in my life, my Grandmother's, and I had only been 11 then.
I stood up and hurried down the hallway towards my parents' bedroom, pausing for a moment in the open doorway. Ignoring the chills that were creeping up my spine, I charged into the bedroom and towards the closet. I flicked through the clothes until I found the dress that my mother wore to her mother's funeral. Pulling it out, I held it up to my body and smiled. Perfect.
The scent up my mother's perfume floated up to me from the dress. Pressing it up to my face, I inhaled the scent deeply. I closed my eyes as I started to sob.
Minutes later, I felt a pair of arms wrap around my body and rock me gently as I cried. "It's OK, sweetie," a familiar voice whispered in my ear. Pulling back, I looked up into the familiar blue eyes of Lindsey Willows, Catherine's twenty-six year old daughter.
I leaned into her again as a new wave of sobs racked my body. She didn't have to say anything, but I knew that she could relate to how I was feeling. Granted, she was a lot younger when her father died, and she still had her mother, but she had still lost a parent. She was the only person who knew how I felt.
"Come on," she said, helping me to my feet. "Let's go home."
The moment we arrived at her house, I curled up under the covers of the guest room and drifted off to a fitful sleep.
Nightmares plagued my sleep all night, causing me to wake up every few hours. At 2:00, I awoke from a particularly bad one and decided to get up for a few minutes to calm myself down.
I headed into the living room and dug out an old photo album from before I was born. This was something I always did at my house when I couldn't sleep. I flipped through the pictures, most of them being of Catherine, Gil, Mom, Daddy, or Warrick.
I stopped on one page that had a picture of Daddy and Mom together, just a few months before they got married. I looked back and forth between the two of them, trying to find similarities between myself and them. I could easy see many similarities between myself and Mom. We had the same nose and mouth, minus her gap. We had the same body type and we were both fairly tall. I concentrated on looking for similarities between myself and Daddy. I couldn't find any.
Finally, I gave up looking and just flipped to the next page. Pausing, I stared at the picture of my mother and a man, not my father. His arm was wrapped around her shoulders, holding her close against his side. Her eyes were filled with love, as was her beautiful gap-toothed grin. I moved the picture closer to the light. His eyes looked vaguely familiar.
A noise from behind me pulled my attention from the picture. I spun around to find Catherine standing in the doorway. "Hey," she whispered. "You couldn't sleep either?" I shook my head, and she made her way over to the couch and sat beside me.
"What are you looking at?" She asked, leaning over my shoulder to get a look at the picture. I watched as the color slowly drained from her face. She frowned slightly, biting her lip as she did so, a clear sign that she was nervous.
"Who is he, Aunt Catherine?" I asked, my eyes still focused on his face.
She sighed and thought a moment before answering. "He was your mom's old boyfriend."
My head snapped up to look at her. My mother had never told me about an old boyfriend. She had always told me that she had never had any real boyfriends before Daddy. "What happened between them?"
She took a deep breath, her hands playing with the edge of her shirt. I noticed that her hands were shaking slightly. "Well, they were going out on and off for a few months. They finally broke up after she found out that he was cheating on her."
"That's awful," I said softly, my gaze now back on the picture. I knew that wasn't the whole story, but I could tell that I wasn't going to get anything else out of Catherine that night. "Well, I guess I'll go back to bed now," I said, placing the photo album on the coffee table, leaving it open.
When I reached the doorway to the hallway, I glanced back to find Catherine staring at the same picture of my mom and that man, her old boyfriend. Tears were falling down her face, but she made no move to wipe them away. Filled with confusion, I turned and headed back to bed.
I woke up around 7:00 to get ready for the funeral. I took a long, hot shower, scrubbing my skin until it bled. I was trying to hard not to cry. I didn't want to admit to myself that it was true, that my parents had died.
I flipped on my mother's black dress, amazed on how well it fit. "You look just like your mom," Gil said from the doorway, a single tear falling from the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry, he said as he quickly wiped it away. And then, pretending that he hadn't let his guard down, he quickly said, "We're ready to go."
The church was almost empty. Mom and Daddy hadn't had any friends outside of work, and I only had three close friends who came. Lindsey sat beside me and held my hand through the whole service, sporadically squeezing my hand to comfort me. Occasionally, she would wipe a stray tear from her eye. I knew that Mom and Dad had been like second parents to her, but she was trying to stay strong for my benefit.
We buried my parents in the cemetery behind the church. The sun was high in the sky, but, for me, the sky was dark and gray. Catherine sobbed loudly and clung to Gil for support. I turned away as the tears cascaded down my face and off my chin. Lindsey's arms were wrapped tightly around me as we headed back to the car, ready to go back to their house. We walked back to the car, both of us crying softly, unaware of the dark figure that was standing by the tree.
From the kitchen, I heard the mechanical hum of the coffee machine. If it wasn't for Catherine's presence in the room, I might have thought that the night before had just been one big nightmare.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried hard to imagine that things were back to normal. I could almost hear my parents rushing around the kitchen with their cups of coffee, getting ready for work. "Morning, Amy," Gil said, coming into the room and interrupting my fantasy. He leaned over and kissed my forehead.
He looked over at his wife, and the two had a wordless exchange. "Umm...the funeral's tomorrow," Gil said, turning away from me and studying the pictures over the mantelpiece. I saw the pain in his face, the unshed tears. I knew he had always loved my mother, even before my father ever met her.
Catherine sniffled and wiped fresh tears from her eyes. My gaze moved back and forth between the two of them. "Excuse me," Catherine said, getting up and hurrying down the hall to the bathroom. I heard the slam of the bathroom door.
At the sound of the slamming door, Gil turned around to face me. "She's really broken up about this," he explained. Not that her behavior really needed any explaining at all. I felt like doing the exact same thing. But I couldn't. He looked around, his eyes drooping with exhaustion. "Why don't you go upstairs and pack some clothes to bring to our house for a few days," he suggested. I knew that now I would be moving in with them. No one needed to tell me. It was expected. "And try and find something to wear tomorrow." He let his voice trail off, unable to say the dreaded word that would bring the horrible truth crashing down on all of us.
I nodded, still unable to speak. But when I reached the doorway, I turned around to face him. "I'm sorry," I said softly. Confusion filled his face. "I know you really loved my mother." I turned and left then. I couldn't bring myself to watch his face, but I could hear his stifled sobs.
I dug through my dresser, pulling out random pairs of pants, shorts, and shirts to pack for Gil and Catherine's house. When I finished with that, I ransacked my closet for anything to wear to the funeral. I didn't have a single thing though. I had only been to one funeral in my life, my Grandmother's, and I had only been 11 then.
I stood up and hurried down the hallway towards my parents' bedroom, pausing for a moment in the open doorway. Ignoring the chills that were creeping up my spine, I charged into the bedroom and towards the closet. I flicked through the clothes until I found the dress that my mother wore to her mother's funeral. Pulling it out, I held it up to my body and smiled. Perfect.
The scent up my mother's perfume floated up to me from the dress. Pressing it up to my face, I inhaled the scent deeply. I closed my eyes as I started to sob.
Minutes later, I felt a pair of arms wrap around my body and rock me gently as I cried. "It's OK, sweetie," a familiar voice whispered in my ear. Pulling back, I looked up into the familiar blue eyes of Lindsey Willows, Catherine's twenty-six year old daughter.
I leaned into her again as a new wave of sobs racked my body. She didn't have to say anything, but I knew that she could relate to how I was feeling. Granted, she was a lot younger when her father died, and she still had her mother, but she had still lost a parent. She was the only person who knew how I felt.
"Come on," she said, helping me to my feet. "Let's go home."
The moment we arrived at her house, I curled up under the covers of the guest room and drifted off to a fitful sleep.
Nightmares plagued my sleep all night, causing me to wake up every few hours. At 2:00, I awoke from a particularly bad one and decided to get up for a few minutes to calm myself down.
I headed into the living room and dug out an old photo album from before I was born. This was something I always did at my house when I couldn't sleep. I flipped through the pictures, most of them being of Catherine, Gil, Mom, Daddy, or Warrick.
I stopped on one page that had a picture of Daddy and Mom together, just a few months before they got married. I looked back and forth between the two of them, trying to find similarities between myself and them. I could easy see many similarities between myself and Mom. We had the same nose and mouth, minus her gap. We had the same body type and we were both fairly tall. I concentrated on looking for similarities between myself and Daddy. I couldn't find any.
Finally, I gave up looking and just flipped to the next page. Pausing, I stared at the picture of my mother and a man, not my father. His arm was wrapped around her shoulders, holding her close against his side. Her eyes were filled with love, as was her beautiful gap-toothed grin. I moved the picture closer to the light. His eyes looked vaguely familiar.
A noise from behind me pulled my attention from the picture. I spun around to find Catherine standing in the doorway. "Hey," she whispered. "You couldn't sleep either?" I shook my head, and she made her way over to the couch and sat beside me.
"What are you looking at?" She asked, leaning over my shoulder to get a look at the picture. I watched as the color slowly drained from her face. She frowned slightly, biting her lip as she did so, a clear sign that she was nervous.
"Who is he, Aunt Catherine?" I asked, my eyes still focused on his face.
She sighed and thought a moment before answering. "He was your mom's old boyfriend."
My head snapped up to look at her. My mother had never told me about an old boyfriend. She had always told me that she had never had any real boyfriends before Daddy. "What happened between them?"
She took a deep breath, her hands playing with the edge of her shirt. I noticed that her hands were shaking slightly. "Well, they were going out on and off for a few months. They finally broke up after she found out that he was cheating on her."
"That's awful," I said softly, my gaze now back on the picture. I knew that wasn't the whole story, but I could tell that I wasn't going to get anything else out of Catherine that night. "Well, I guess I'll go back to bed now," I said, placing the photo album on the coffee table, leaving it open.
When I reached the doorway to the hallway, I glanced back to find Catherine staring at the same picture of my mom and that man, her old boyfriend. Tears were falling down her face, but she made no move to wipe them away. Filled with confusion, I turned and headed back to bed.
I woke up around 7:00 to get ready for the funeral. I took a long, hot shower, scrubbing my skin until it bled. I was trying to hard not to cry. I didn't want to admit to myself that it was true, that my parents had died.
I flipped on my mother's black dress, amazed on how well it fit. "You look just like your mom," Gil said from the doorway, a single tear falling from the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry, he said as he quickly wiped it away. And then, pretending that he hadn't let his guard down, he quickly said, "We're ready to go."
The church was almost empty. Mom and Daddy hadn't had any friends outside of work, and I only had three close friends who came. Lindsey sat beside me and held my hand through the whole service, sporadically squeezing my hand to comfort me. Occasionally, she would wipe a stray tear from her eye. I knew that Mom and Dad had been like second parents to her, but she was trying to stay strong for my benefit.
We buried my parents in the cemetery behind the church. The sun was high in the sky, but, for me, the sky was dark and gray. Catherine sobbed loudly and clung to Gil for support. I turned away as the tears cascaded down my face and off my chin. Lindsey's arms were wrapped tightly around me as we headed back to the car, ready to go back to their house. We walked back to the car, both of us crying softly, unaware of the dark figure that was standing by the tree.