Eleven Favours I Owe Him (Kismet-on hold)

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

They won't let me forget.

They won't stop coming, but I didn't need to hear it. I don't want to hear it. I can't bear to keep hearing it. Why can't they let me forget?

They won't stop reminding me.

"Our condolences Nora, Emily. If you need something don't hesitate. "Mr. Dawson states solemnly, placing one hand on my mom's shoulder and the other on mine.

Mom sniffles and sad tears pours our of her eyes, as she is reminded, yet again, that her soulmate, her other half, and the love of her life is gone. I hook my arm around her shoulders and squeezing it tightly, for support.

We thank him as he left for the door. I look at the floor, tracing and following the marble lines. His death wasn't a surprise since we've been warned that he'd only last a few months. We accepted that and 5 days ago, his heart underwent a massive failure. It is a complication brought by his weak body. Cancer drained everything we had.

Of everything we had.

I never liked the idea of having to listen to all the people sending their condolences. I didn't even feel like looking at them. Seeing them come by just make it that much harder to pretend it never happened, that I can't forget and it hurt. The people were a constant reminder that he's gone.

That my dad is gone. The thought resonates in my head like a horrible cacophony. It hurts, but despite that, I never bothered to cry, of course not. Not at this time, when my mom needs me.

I want to be strong for her, for my mother's sake.

I have to.

I glance around. Only a few of my dad's close friends remains. Sooner or later, they'll have to leave, and it'll just be us. Just me and my mom. I can feel my eyes begin to well up, moist and on the edge, but I won't let them fall. Looking up the ceiling, I bite my lower lip supressing the surge of tears. Thankfully, I manage to stop them.

Two hundred people, quickly dwindled to one hundred, to fifty then two. After a few minutes, the remaining visitors leave and I know that this will be the last time I'd see them. This is the last day we'd spend in this house. Mom explained to me that we were to leave because we had nothing anymore. That we are rather lucky that father's friends were kind enough to let us keep the house for a little longer. They were generous enough to even lend a bit of money for us to start over. My mom, refused any help other than that; I understand why she did that. She's a strong but prideful woman, and I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing when it's all you have left.

We immediately start with the last preparations for the move when the last person to attend the memorial leaves. After my dad's death, my mom told me that we will be moving right away and ordered me to start packing our things. I oblige to her request seeing that this is one way I can help her. This task was hard, as every little thing I touch reminded me of my dad. But nonetheless, it needs to be done.

I glance around the landing to see if there is anything else that need packing, but mom shoos me away, telling me that she'll handle things there.

"I don't think you've started packing your things yet; don't worry about this area, I got it covered," she replies, a weak smile on her pale pink lips, her eyes still swollen as she sits on the antique couch.

"Right," I hum, internally face palming myself for almost forgetting to pack my own things.

I walk up the stairs, stopping midway up the steps. There is so much space on the landing, the remaining furnitures are now covered with flimsy white tarps, and littered with big brown boxes. It looks empty, desolate, cold and distant it's hard to imagine that it was once filled with warmth, and happiness. When I look at it, it all just seem to bring some bad memories. A lump rises to my throat again, but I swallow it right down.