The Best Cliché Yet

Chapter 17 (Epilogue)

(A'sNote) I edited the story! You may want to go back and re-read chapter 15 because I adjusted it, but you don't have to. This chapter is basically the epilogue, summarizing the story. Read the end note too!

Hope you enjoy! c:

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Epilogue

I heard the doorbell ring, soon followed by Ramon's booming voice echo throughout the empty house. We had invited only my mother's closest friends to the funeral. He was here to take my sisters there.

The funeral. I had never been to a funeral. We never had one for our father, for obvious reasons, and we never got close enough to people to be invited to one.

I stood in front of the TV mantle, staring at the only picture of my mother and father together. It was taken the day the diner opened. My mom was taking a selfie and my dad was staring at her, smiling from ear to ear.

"Hey, we're leaving now," Tarah croaked.

I nodded my head, not turning to her in fear that she would see my tears. I heard them leave.

It took Tarah almost 3 days to come out from her shock. She didn't move, didn't even eat or sleep. Tati was really scared that something was wrong with her, but the doctor assured us that "she just needs time." We pushed back the date as far as we possibly could, knowing this moment had to come sooner or later.

I prayed for later, like if we waited long enough, she'd heal and come back to us.

It was hard to think - we all loved our mother equally - but Tarah was the most affected by our mother's death. They were the closest. Because my older sister was done school, she spent most of her time with my mom, at home and work. I think what hit her the hardest was that she never got to say goodbye.

She was a shell of her old self now. A machine, watching after the diner the best she could, and taking care of us. The only time I saw her really happy was when she was with Chris. He was good for her. Tarah said my mom approved of him the first time she saw him in the diner.

Tatiana definitely reacted the worst to her death. I remember a few days back, when Tarah and I were reminiscing about our mother and the time she banned me from ever touching the blender after I had turned it on without the lid.

"The green smoothie was everywhere," I laughed.

"She looked like the Grinch who stole Christmas," Tarah smiled.

Tati had had enough, lashed out on us to stop talking about her.

"Tati, just because she's gone, doesn't mean we-"

"She's not gone, Tori! We didn't lose her at the flipping grocery store! She dead and she's never coming back! Stop talking about her like she's gonna walk into this room any minute now!"

Tarah and I were stunned into silence.

Tatiana stormed out of the house and we didn't see her the whole weekend after that.

I looked the least affected by the death. Inside, it felt like a constant parade of knives carved themselves into my chest, trying to get at my heart, but when they failed, carved new holes back out. The hardest part was not being able to show my pain. I had to be the strength for my sisters. Tarah was the oldest, but I was the strongest.

"You are their protector now, Tori," I remembered my father say.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect her," I whispered to the picture.