Strangers in the Storm ✔

Chapter 29: Stay

ROXANNE 

Roxanne had no idea how she felt. She was bitterly angry, disappointed and disillusioned. Looking back, she didn't know why she expected more from him. This was the way he handled stuff; like a complete fucking moron.

She also understood him. For years, he has gotten away with it. Behaving like an entitled child worked for him until now. Now, he lost his mother and he needed to finally grow up.

Roxanne watched him as he forced the omelette down his throat, pretending he was actually enjoying it, and waited for Mona to drop by. At least her parents weren't home.

Someone opened the door, "Hey, you there? It's unlocked."

"Yeah, come in." Roxanne shouted.

Mona peeked in the kitchen, already dressed for the funeral in fine black pants and a black blouse, which could all pass as business attire as well.

Damien's throat bobbed as he swallowed the bite, "Hey, Mona."

Roxanne simply moved aside as Damien's best friend marched through the kitchen and slapped the dining table with her palms, "You stupid asshole!"

"I'm sorry, Mona." Damien mumbled.

"I can't believe you did this!" Mona shouted. "But of course, you're too selfish to let this be about anyone other than you-"

"Mona." Roxanne cut in. "Don't beat a dead horse."

Damien's best friend composed herself, "Get dressed. We have a funeral to get to."

After forcing food down his throat and making him drink have a gallon of lemonade, Damien almost looked like a person. Roxanne found a black dress in the depths of her closet, a short-sleeved, knee-length silken piece of fabric. Damien put on a black suit, beams of sweat already forming on his forehead, which was probably last night's alcohol vaporizing.

Once they finally headed for the funeral home, Roxanne felt the fatigue wash over her. She hasn't slept all night and unlike Damien, she has been working a nightshift. In the car, she realised she hasn't eaten anything.

They reached the funeral home on time. Mona insisted that Damien should see his mother and he was possibly too hungover to protest, so Roxanne escorted him to the room and gave him some space.

Damien looked empty, like a shell of a man, with nothingness simmering in his eyes. His face was like chalk, white and dry, and he moved lethargically, like there was a mechanism inside him that pushed him forward, barely keeping his body upright.

Roxanne banged her head against the cold, white wall in the funeral home once Damien closed the door behind him. She blinked a couple of times. This was not the time for a ruined mascara. She glanced at the clock once she heard clamour coming from outside and knocked on the door.

"People are here." Roxanne murmured.

When she heard no response, she opened the door. Damien sat on the stool next to his mother's coffin in a plain, wood-laden room. The lacquered burgundy of the coffin stood out amidst the washed up wooden wainscoting. Expressionless and with slumped shoulders, Damien stared into nothing.

"Come on." Roxanne touched his back. "We have to get through this."

Damien said nothing as he stood up. He hasn't said anything throughout the entire funeral, but he kept his promise, no booze and no breakdowns. Hundreds of people came and the mere sight of them clenched Roxanne's throat.

Irene, Sylvie and Marge cried almost dramatically, drowning out the melancholy melody of songs Roxanne didn't understand.

Every once in a while, she glanced at Damien stoically swallowing whichever emotion wanted out. He stood next to the coffin alone. He was her only family.