Ruined

Chapter 23

Aria…

I woke up earlier than usual. Had a lengthy warm shower and then walked out of the bathroom. I chose a plain black, calf length shirt dress and paired it off with black platform heels. The dress was slightly tight fitted, but I had no choice but to wear it. It was the only black dress I was given. Another option was a silk black shirt, but as I inspected it, I noticed the plunging neckline with no buttons – not exactly the most appropriate for a funeral. I sighed and put the shirt back into the closet. I walked over to the dressing table and put very little makeup on. I decided on coating my eyelashes with waterproof mascara, in case my emotions got the better of me at the funeral. I took one last look at myself and then left the room.

When I was walking down the stairs and had a view of the lounge, I nearly missed a step. The room was packed with people. Were they really all here to pay their respects to Joaquin? Or were they just here because they were part of the gang.                                                                                                                                 I met Tony at the bottom of the staircase and perhaps for the first time, noticed his beauty. He wore a plain black suite, one with tiny embellished prints of the collar, a plain white shirt under his blazer.                                                                 “Hi” He said, sounding despondent.                                                                                 I smelt alcohol on his breath and examined his hands. A glass half-full of what resembled whiskey was in his right hand.                                                                            “How are you, you look like you haven’t slept”.                                                                      “I haven’t, I couldn’t fall asleep. There were too many things on my mind”. “That’s understandable” I looked around at the room full of chattering people. “Did Joaquin have a family?”.                                                                                                          “Only a grandmother. She raised him after his mother died during a gang crossfire. He was ten at the time. He never knew his father”.                                             Tony sipped on his drink and then looked at me.                                                                                “Would you like to meet her?”.                                                                                                 I nodded my head and he held out his hand to me. I took his hand and he led me outside.

There was a large white marquee set up in the backyard, to the side of the pool. Rows of white chairs set out facing a podium stand and a closed coffin with the best picture of Joaquin that could have been chosen. He was smiling broadly, showing off his pearly whites, dressed in a navy-blue suit, his fingers, as usual, adorned by the many rings he wore. I looked at the coffin and then at Tony.                                                                                                                                            “He spoke of death often, made jokes about it, said he didn’t want an open casket, where people would judge the way the funeral parlour did his makeup” Tony said with a slight chuckle.                                                                                              “You miss him a lot”.                                                                                                                “He was more than just my friend; he was like a brother to me”.                                                        I sighed and rubbed my thumb across his knuckles.