My mother's funeral was a somber event. Not many people came. It was just myself, some of our neighbours, June, her sister and her mother. For some reason, I couldn't forget what June was wearing that day. A lacy, black, knee-length dress with drop shoulder sleeves, and a little black hair accessory tying her fringe to the side.
I knelt down in front of my mother's grave, laying down a bouquet of flowers, and looked at the headstone, bearing her name and the time period in which she lived. A grim thought came to my head.
They included the years that she was in a coma. Eight whole years.
If I were them, I would've cut it eight years short. People who are in comas don't live.
They just exist.
My mom died eight years ago. So why was I crying now?
The rain battered us as we stood underneath umbrellas, listening to the sermon as we paid respects to the dead. I hadn't talked to June since prom. I was glad she understood that I needed space. It felt like centuries since then but really it was just a week. I was in the hospital for the first few days, with bad shock having affected my liver a bit, but then after they'd cleared me I'd gone back to my inn room, and haven't come back out until the funeral.
June called me five times, but I didn't answer. May called once, I picked up. She asked me if I wanted to stay at theirs until the funeral, but I politely refused. After making sure I had at least eaten something, she hung up.
The funeral director had been a generous man... knew I was only a college first-year, with almost no support in Westbrook, gave me the package at half price. Other than him, I spoke with nobody.
I felt like my world had come crumbling down. For the first time in a long while, I felt the severity of my father's actions. It boiled my blood. So far, I'd managed to keep a lid on it.
June crouched in front of my mom's gravestone, gently lowering her own flowers. They were lillies. She put her hands together in silent prayer, with a single tear down her face.
She then stood up, saying her final goodbye, before coming towards me. I didn't make eye contact with her. She simply put a hand on my arm.
"I'm here for you, Tyler."
I was soaked through my suit, so she sheltered me from the rain with her umbrella. When I glanced at her, she was smiling radiantly, a hopeful look in her eye.
And for some reason, that had angered me. What could she possibly have to be hopeful about?
"What are you talking about?" I told her roughly. "Here for me?"
She blinked twice before stammering, as I pulled back from her, standing away, hands in my pockets.
Don't push her away again, Tyler... something in me pleaded.
"I- I just meant that... you know, if you ever wanted to talk..."
"Talk about what, huh? My dead mom?" I sneered.
She looked taken aback, a look of confusion crossing her face before she frowned. The north star necklace hung around her neck.
"You know that's not what I meant at all." she said, a stone in her tone.
"Then what did you mean?" I retorted, taking a step towards her.
"I was trying to be nice, but you haven't talked to me at all a- and I know you need time and space but at least be respectful when you're talking to me..."
YOU ARE READING
North
General Fiction"Iriehen was a dreamer's city. It wasn't a city for the faint of heart, not for someone like me, who was just waiting for the next big thing. It was a city for the people who were in the next big thing." ... When June Winters, a young attorney aspir...
