1+1 [slow updates]

1: a whole other level of fucked up

First, new and improved chapter!

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Numb.

Numbness is a feeling I'm getting all too familiar with.

Kelly and Michelle are seated on either side of me. I guess they are my friends, more like acquaintances now. I'm definitely not as close to them as the media portrays. It hasn't been the same in a while.

My stomach twists as the golden casket is closed over the lifeless body. It did not feel real, that I would never see her again.

The expecting stares, waiting for a reaction, make we want to disappear. Everyone seems to be moved to tears but me. I can't feel... well anything. They all knew her as the singer Bonnie Knowles.

I knew her as mom.

Well.. barely.

She never said it but I knew she preferred me calling her by her name. Like the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth wasn't a dead give away every single damn time. Bonnie was good at a lot of things but being a mother was not one of them.

"You okay?" Michelle sniffed. I nodded. She was crying, not just crying but balling her eyes out. They both were. It's kind of ridiculous since it was my mother in the casket, but I didn't say anything. I just sat there.

My mother was dead.

My mother was dead and no one knew why but me.

"Beyoncé!"

A voice I had almost forgotten calls my name. He quickly catches up to me. I never thought my father would look so unfamiliar. 

"Hey..."

"..Hi," I reply breathlessly.

"I know we haven't talked--" he sighs. It was the end of the memorial service. We had moved to a hall where everyone was free to mingle. "Have you gotten any of my calls, or the letters I've sent?"

Yes, and there are all unopened, in a pile on the kitchen table. This wasn't the first time he's tried to reach out to me this year. The first time was a couple months ago when I received a call from him out of nowhere. He just said my name and I froze, unable answer back.

"I.. um wasn't... ready."

"I— okay.. that's only fair. I understand."

James has not been much of a father most of my life. Years of his absence left me with no desire to know him. His recent efforts only left me with one question.

"Why now?"

"What—"

"For years.. I was the one who called and sent letters. All these years... why are you trying now?"

"Sweetheart, I—" his face fell in shame, "I'm sorry... I'm soo sorry."

His honey brown eyes gloss over and it felt like I was looking into a mirror. So, that's where I got those from.  Maybe that's why my mother could barely look me in the eye... or in general. I am basically a female, dark skin version of him.

"I haven't slept in three days... James, I'm just tired," I tell him feeling completely defeated. I did not need or want to hear what he had to say anymore. He stared back at me guiltily.

"I-I know sweetheart, I know. Before you refuse, I just want you to know that I do want to be in your life. You are my daughter.. I only want you to be safe."

I stared blankly at him. "I've survived this long without a father."

There's no hostility in my tone, but I know my words sting. I sigh and rub between my eyebrows in attempt to soothe the dull ache forming behind my eyes. Fucking migraine.