Hunter's Chance

p r o l o g u e

It's raining. Of course it's raining today.

I scan the faces opposite of me to try and keep my mind off of our public tragedy. Mrs. Johnson from three houses down is crying and obnoxiously blowing her nose as she stands there in her over-the-top floppy hat. Max Rivers, who hardly knew my father, is dressed in all black and kicking at the ground below him and assuming he finds that to be much more entertaining than this service, I don't blame him.

I look down at my numb hands. Both are being held, one by my mother and the other by my younger brother, Conner. We are surrounded by many people but I'm quickly realizing that this is all we have left, it's just the three of us now.

We are guided towards the mortuary tent and the walk feels as though it could last forever. With the consistent thud of rain leaving its mark on the black umbrella the three of us are standing under, it's just a more recent reminder that when it rains, it pours. And as I take one more look around at the attire of the attendees, the umbrella, and the clouded skies, I'm soon realizing that everything seems to be black today. How symbolic.

A tall man stands and the focus of the area is on him. "Today we are here to celebrate the life of Kyle Hunter, a family man. He is survived by his wonderful wife Jen, and his beautiful children, Reagan and Conner."

I neglect the rest of what he has to say, I've heard it all before. Instead, I stare at the casket sitting before me. Though the gloomy skies and rain falling from above make it hard to see, I know that it's mahogany because I was fortunate enough to be there when my mother had to pick it out. She had to pick out the casket that her husband of twenty-four years would be buried in.

I glance over at her and watch as her lips quiver, and her eyes continually fill with tears. My eyes begin to follow suit and I turn away. I've shed more tears than I knew possible in the last few days. So much so, that I thought I'd run out by now. I try to fight it but betray myself when one wavering tear slides down my cheek and lands on my lap.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," I hear for what feels like the seven-hundredth time today, this time coming from an elderly woman. She takes both my mother's and my hands in hers and squeezes lightly. It's true what they say, nothing in the world can be said or done to make things better but there's definitely a pattern when it comes to how people from the outside world handle something like this. I caught on quickly to just politely respond with a thank you and move on to the next.

A small girl, one I don't recognize, walks over to us and hands each of us a red rose. I give her a generous smile-well, a generous smile given the situation. I watch as the people circled around his casket step forward and place their rose on the top.

We're the last ones here and when it comes time for my turn, I take a step back nudging Conner to go. He doesn't fight me. Instead he steps forward, sets the rose down and rubs his hand on the top of the wood. My mother steps up next to him, taking the umbrella with her. He wraps his arm around her and she leans into him, her body shakes and I can tell from behind that she is sobbing.

I stand there in the pouring rain as I watch two people that I love say goodbye to the person that I loved more than anything in the world. My mom turns and looks at me but I immediately look away. I'm not ready.

I don't think I'll ever be ready.