The archive of the forgotten

forgiveness for a funeral

I look at the grave as I put down flowers. Poppy's, his favourite. Yesterday was his funeral, I hate that I wasn't there. I did not even know about it till an old friend of his called. Informing me about the funeral, they wouldn't let me see him before. Of course they don't want me to see them. I look at the flowers with those stupid name ribbons, from your loving father and mother, I laugh, I hate the fact that the people who hate him are the ones pretending to mourn him. My brother is dead because of them. 

And I will never ever talk to them again, just like I will not be able to talk to my brother again. I wipe away a tear. I hate how I needed to say goodbye, I was in a meeting in Paris. But my brother called, he doesn't call out of the blue. So I excused myself and took his phone call. 

"Philip, why'd you call" I asked. "I can't do this anymore" I hear in the whispering melody of my brother's voice. I closed my eyes and leant against a wall. I tried to take a deep breath but my airways were restricted. "Please don't do it" I begged him, smothering the words with my hand over my mouth. "I can't live like this." He said, the tears rolling through the phone. I immediately got out my work phone. "I beg you Phillip, I'm booking a trip home at once. I'll be there tomorrow alright? Even if father doesn't want me to." "I waited for you to be our of the country" he whispered, I could even hear the smoke he's inhaling. "Why?" I asked, tears in my eyes. "I didn't want to hurt you. And I know when you are  here, I don't have enough courage to leave you" My body caved in. I could not believe him, this was my fault. I should never have left him, he needs me. I should never have left my parents.

"I'm sorry philippo" I say, I used to call him that when he was young. "I'm sorry I was too late. I am sorry I wasn't with you" I look at the grave and need to resist the urge to demolish the flowers of my parents. He wouldn't have wanted it, he would have wanted everybody to be respetful to the other. Although my parents have never been respectful to me but I intend to be respectful to his grave, not to my parents.

"Beau-Alexandre" I turn around, not many people call me by my full name, they mostly call me Beau, Alex or B.A. but only my clients, collegeaus and staff call me by my full name. I expect my to see my chauffeur but instead it's my father. My stance immediately changes, I cannot be vulnerable with my mother, nor with him. I cannot afford mourning in front of them.

"We didn't expect you here." The blonde witch that calls herself my mother. "Oh sod off Abigail! Don't lie, you knew I would be here." I say while I try to get away. I don't want to talk, but my father blocks my way.  "Jean-Philippe would have wanted us to be together when mourning" My father says with a pleading expression on his face. "And you expect me to forgive you Arthur? I will never forgive you that you've never spoken up. And how you used me and Philippe as guinea pigs, I do not want to hear anything about it!" "Don't talk to your father that way Beau." "Don't challenge me Abigail, I have ever more opinions about you! You've kept me away from my twin brother's  funeral!" "Don't call us by our first names and it was simply so Jean-philippe would have all the attention." My father says and I can't stop myself.

I hit him, not too hard but he didn't expect it. "Fuck off! Funerals are also for the ones left behind" I scream with tears in my eyes. I keep on hitting my father chest. I cannot see through my tears. "A part of me has died! My hope died with him, my last connection to family died, the one who saw me as enough died, I do not know anymore what is true and what isn't I wish I was dead instead of him and you! You fucker don't want me to attract attention. You refused to tell me anything, I wasn;t allowed to see my brother for the last time. You have taken away my goodbye! You took away my goodbye, the way it was clear to me that he's really gone. Clear to me that everything will never be the same again." But as I hit him all the bastard does is hug me. I begin to cry, I used to love my father. I still love my father, it's my mum I hate. "I miss him so" I whisper while crying and hugging my father as tightly as I can. 

"Come on," My father says. "We'll drink a cup of tea back at the manor." I nod, I don't want to but I don't have enough energy to say no. "You can look at Philippe's room, it's too much junk we don't understand." My mother says. I curse her, why would you call the things that belong to your dead son junk.

Back at the manor nothing has changed since I left. "Son," My father begins, my mother is only looking at me with her normal arrogant disdain. "We have seen how succesful your clothing brand is. Your mother won't admit it but she absolutely loved your last Haute couture show. It's astonishing how many celebrities like to wear your designs. Beau, we are proud of you and the career path you chose. It took a lot of nerve to decide not to go on with becoming a neurosurgeon and choose for the thing you loved."

I look at my trembling hands, I've never told them what the first reason was that I quit. I never told them because it was a month after we had one of our worst fights about the future of the pharmaceutical company. I quit because I had a stroke and my hands cannot stop trembling, it was such a hard time, Philippe was there to help me. I needed to learn how to talk again, it was so strange to start a new path when I was twenty-six. It felt like I was close to getting the thing I worked towards and it just all slipped out of my hands.

"Thank you dad." I say with a smile. "Beau, we want to have a better relationship with you. We want to apologise, you're now our only son. We can't do this without you, we need to mourn together. We also need somebody to take Phillipe's place in the company. You're qualified and I think it's possible to do it while you still work on your fashion brand." I take a deep breath. "I do not know whether I can forgive you" I say. "Can I go to his room?" they both nod, my mother grabs my hand. I want to pull it back but her nails seem to dig into my flesh burning it. "We love you" I don't react

I enter the room we painted together. It was really difficult to find such a dark green. But we had so much fun painting it. I smile as I grab one of the stuck up pictures of us in cute little suits. We were ten here. I look at the boarding school pictures, we were the happiest when our parents couldn't control us. I walk towards the bed and wonder if there's still the secret compartment. I carefully try to move one specific board of the wall. It's still there, I look at the things we've always kept here. Picture books, diaries, drawings, some books our mother didn't approve of. I look at some of the pictures, "The lives of the de la Rochefoucauld." I open it and laugh, it's an comic we made when we were young to make fun of our own family. But than I notice one thing I don't recognise. I open it and a little note falls down, I look at the little note he has written in our old made up language. "It's our fault. We know, let them know" I look at the documents about a trial of a new medecine. at the back there's a picture of a child, about four or five. I feel a tear in my eye, our fault......... I hear bells of the church in the chapel near the manor. Our fault.....that's why i am not dead yet, I have a mission

"Dad, I think I'll accept the position in the company." I say with a smile. He hugs me but he has no idea that I am boiling on the inside.

I didn;t know a fitting title so please if somebody has a better one comment! I would like to edit this one a bit more in a few days but I am really interested what story this could be. If somebody must take down the de la Rochefoucaulds, it will be a Rochefoucauld himself.