Sweetest Thing (gxg)

6. Unexpected Visits ఌ

Saturday, 27 January 2018
Arizona
***

"Please God," she said a silent prayer as tears fell from her eyes. "If you let me get through this night, I swear I'll never do anything like this again."

Her prayer didn't work because the more Yoaly tried to force herself to get up, the more her body fought her. She felt like her limbs were made of cinderblock and her mind began drifting from consciousness to what she could only describe as mild hallucinations.

Except this hallucination came in the form of a half flashback, half dream. She could see herself standing on the stage of her father's church, wearing a long black dress, and standing in front of a microphone stand. It all felt too familiar, and that's because she'd been in that same dress and in that same exact position once before.

Her thick curly hair was pulled into a haphazard bun at the base of her neck. Not a single styling product or tool was used meaning there were sections of curls that barely made it into the bun. Her face was bare of any makeup, her red, puffy eyes being on full display for the entire world to see. She didn't even attempt to hide her pain behind a veil of heavy concealer and setting powder.

The slow, melancholy instrumental for The Band Perry's 'If I Die Young' began to play through the church speakers as Yoaly took a step closer to the microphone in the middle of the stage. She began singing. She sang the same song she last sang nine months ago when she was on that very stage, in that very same black dress, with the same exact sunken, puffy, red eyes.

♪
If I die young, bury me in satin.
Lay me down on a bed of roses.
Sink me in the river at dawn.
Send me away with the words of a love song.

♪
A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell 'em for a dollar.
They're worth so much more after I'm a goner, and maybe then you'll hear the words I've been singing.
Funny when you're dead, how people start listening...

Yoaly had stopped singing when she realized whose funeral she was singing at. She was at her funeral. Her face was the one on the pamphlets. Her mom was the one who sunk to her knees, letting out a soul-shaking cry as she mourned the loss of her only child.

A part of her knew what she was seeing wasn't real, but she couldn't stand to see her mother like that. She could feel her pain radiating through her own body and it felt even worse than when she'd lost the one person she thought she couldn't live without. Yoaly ran off the stage, past the pews that were filled with familiar faces, and through the double doors leading out of the sanctuary.

Her heart was beating fast, and she held a hand over her chest as if that would work to calm it. She leaned against a wall, trying to catch her breath and collect her thoughts as to what was going on.

"Yoaly?" A voice called out to her.

"Tylin?" She stumbled backward as if she'd seen a ghost when she looked up and saw just where the voice came from.

And in a way, it's as if she were seeing one. She reached out and placed her hand on her best friend's cheek, surprised at the fact that he was warm. His light brown skin didn't look grey like the last time she'd seen him. His eyes weren't lifeless orbs, but full of that exuberant energy he was once known for.

"Tylin..." she repeated slower this time with her hand still pressed firmly against his cheek.

"It's me," he placed his hand over hers. "It's really me."

"No, that doesn't make any sense. How? What...?"

"You shouldn't be here," Tylin informed her as if that fact were not obvious.