There is a time in one's life that changes everything. Sometimes, that time is near your end, other times it's near the middle, but in this case, it's in the beginning. And that change is not always so good. In this case, the change is a nightmare. But that doesn't mean it can't change into an amazing dream.
The rain falls faster and faster until it is a full-on downpour. I place my warm palm on the freezing glass of the small window. I watch as the raindrops soak everything; all the black limos, all the bare trees, the dry, dirt-caked ground. Everything outside is too depressing to look at, but I keep my emotions inside and just watch silently from my place on the windowsill. The night sky is a dark, dark blue that didn't seem natural. There were no stars or moon tonight. I wish there was, because the sky looks so empty and alone now. I feel what the sky feels, the horrible emptiness, the feeling of having nothing. Of course, I had a few things. But they meant nothing anymore.
"Ingrid, you're going to freeze your legs," my mother scolds from across the room. I pull my lacy, black dress down to my ankles and ignore her. I don't want to be here, but I feel like I owe it to dad to spend his last hour on Earth with him. I sigh quietly and look away from the window. It is depressing, looking outside and seeing nothing. Nothing buy sadness. And the unnatural blue. I hug my knees to my chest, craving some human warmth. "Come sit with us," my mother tries again. She has been trying for the past week. She tries without success. She can't get me to look her in the eyes, let alone sit with her. And I don't feel like sitting with crying relatives - people Dad didn't even like. If he saw me now, he'd be proud. Now, there was nothing to keep me with these people. No one to tell me to keep trying to get along with my mother. No one to tell me to be kind to my grandmother. No one. "At least sit in an actual chair, that sill's cold." And still, I didn't reply. Just like the past week of horror, I kept my mouth shut. It drove my mom nuts.
Why wasn't she upset? Didn't she care that my father was gone forever? Her husband, her lover, her one and true love. She had always been her nicest around him, pretending to care about me. She just wanted him to be happy and think we were a happy family. But we weren't and now we never will be. I thought my mom would at least continue to be decent around me, but lately I've seen her as a monster.
"Let the girl do as she likes," my grandmother, Ma, tells her. Unlike my mother, my grandmother actually cares about me. But she cares too much and is so overprotective that I don't enjoy her company and dread that days she comes to visit. Ma is also very different from my mom because she is very motherly, to all kids she meets. She is a natural-born mother, with a thick Greek accent, a grandmotherly look and feel to her, and a handkerchief she never loses.
"Ma, can you go check on the littles? Tell them to stop screaming so loud?" My mom asks Ma. Ma looks annoyed as she gets up, but knows that my mom wants to say something to me, so she listens. The littles aren't being loud, their actually quiet for once. After Ma is gone, my mom gets up. She looks business-strict as usual, in a black skirt suit, black tights, her brown hair in a tight bun, and her new black heeled boots on. She never was particularly pretty. Dad was a handsome man. He had shiny, black hair like me, gray eyes, like me, and was very tall. It feels wrong to talk about him in the past tense.
"Ingrid, your behavior is entirely inappropriate," my mom tells me with a frown that makes her look even uglier. She really is a monster. My father just died and she's yelling at me because of my behavior? She never really loved him, did she? "Ma and the family are here to help us and make sure we're alright, you're actions toward them have been nothing but rude," she continues. I just stare out the window, drowning out her horrible voice. Can't she ever leave me alone? I wish Dad had never married her. She probably thought that he had cursed her with a horrible child and then died and left her all alone to care for me. "Do you hear me?" She asks, louder and angrier. I face her and she stares at me like she's terrified by me. "Do you think you're the only one who's scared? Or sad? Or mourning? He was my husband too!" She cries for the first time in my life, hiding her face in her hands.
I don't even care anymore. She can shoot herself for all I care. I silently get up and leave the room.
I walk down the creaking steps of the funeral home, holding onto the weak railing so I don't slip on the wet tracks of the relatives who came up earlier. I don't really know where I'm going because the funeral won't be starting until seven. It's hard to believe that it's only six right now, the sky is so dark. I open the door to the exit and look outside, my face quickly getting wet. I stare up at the impossibly blue sky and wait for some feeling to come over me. I have no sadness, no anger. Just confusion. And that's killing me. Because I want to cry for my father, and my now-disastrous life. But the tears never come. I go to sleep with a heavy chest, praying to empty out my head over sleep, but that never happens. I dream of my father's face and hear his voice. I smell his cologne on everything, and I feel like he's still here. It's scary to be thinking of him as a ghost. He used to be so full of life and laughter and love.
I walk outside, immediately getting soaked through my clothes. I don't even notice because I'm so numb. Finally, I feel some type of emotion. And it's loss. Because I truly have no one. I walk across the slick road and go stop in front of the woods that are the only thing separating this sad city from the busy cities. I lean on a tree, looking up at the funeral home. I see, through the window on the second floor, my family. They are laughing together and eating like today is just another ordinary day. How can they even eat with a dead body in the house? They all disgust me. My dad must've really loved my mom to stay with those horrible people. But there really is nothing to love about her.
I sigh, feeling my chest choke up and my breath catch quickly. My eyes water and I'm crying. I'm finally showing some emotion. I cry out loud, not in my hands like my mother. There is no one around to watch this display, and I wouldn't even care. I had just lost a father, I have no mother, and I have no one who loves me. It's all too much for one person. I cry so hard and it feels so good, and I just continue. Soon, I am all cried-out, and my head is heavy. I hug the wet tree next to me and stay there, still and silent. I can hear laughter all the way from inside the funeral home. They are all monsters. I hate them all. Why was I cursed with such a horrible family?
"Are you alright?" I voice behind me startles me. I turn quickly, thinking maybe it's a murderer coming to finish me off after my father. It would be fortunate is that was the case. But all I saw was my friend, Cameron. He walks in front of me, holding out his black umbrella. I quickly get under it.
"How long have you been behind me?" I ask cautiously, feeling suddenly embarrassed if he heard me cry.
"Long enough," he sighs. He looks so different from last week. He used to be all laughter and pranks. But now he frowned and carried my pain on his shoulders. I felt guilty for ruining his life like that.
"We better go inside," I say quickly. I don't want to, but it's probably better than getting any more wetter out here.
"Not if you don't want to," Cameron tells me.
"I don't." It escapes my mouth so quickly. But I don't regret saying it. Cameron is my best friend. It's his job to help me when I need help. A sob comes out of me quickly and I cry like a maniac now. Cameron pulls me in for a hug and I cry on his shoulder. I feel bad for ruining his probably-new dress shirt. But he doesn't seem to mind. He smells really good. Not like my dad, but the cologne is nice. Usually he smells like Cheetos or chocolate. We're like that for a long time; me on his shoulder, his arms around me tightly. I feel a little bit better because at least he's here for me.
"I'm all snotty now," I laugh dryly as I pull away.
"Not as snotty as I was last month. Remember the spit-and-snot summer resort?" He laughs. I laugh but instantly feel guilty. Cameron notices my pause. "You know, it's not a crime to laugh, even if this is the situation." He says, looking at me seriously.
"Whatever, let's go in," I link my arm through his and walk with him under his umbrella. It seems almost natural to be linked to Cameron. Like against all the horrible people and my horrible life, I still have my best friend.
At seven pm, the funeral home's eulogist comes in. He is a big man with a big, potbellied stomach and a balding head. He nods at my family, peacefully and walks us to the big room held for the memorials of the deceased. There are pews just like at a church. I sit with Cameron in the last row, still and tear-less now. Cameron holds my hand tightly when my father's coffin is uncovered. It is shut tightly, but the presence of it freezes me in my seat. "You okay?" Cameron whispers. I nod slowly. I feel something pulling at me from the direction of the coffin. Like I am linked to my father's dead body. It sounds a bit to supernatural to me, but the attraction only gets stronger.
Everything grows quiet, I don't hear my mom's fake sobs, I can't hear the eulogists low voice. I can't even hear the wild rain outside. All I hear is a powerful hum that draws my attention to the closed coffin. I shut my eyes tightly and force myself to come back to reality. I hear the man's voice say how my father was a ind soul, I hear my mom whimper, and I hear the rain crash against the window again. A clap of thunder makes me jump. I have no idea what just happened, but it seems too science-fictiony. Cameron eyes me suspiciously but says nothing.
