THE MESS IT LEFT || In Progress

C h a p t e r I

Sawyer quietly looked at the mournful faces filling the room accompanied by the masses of black swarming a table. She noticed the way that they all eagle clawed their Shirley Temples. Aiden had always said if he died, he didn't want people to be sad. He wanted his favorite snacks, and those small finger foods that tasted horrendous but were cute, to cover the tables. He joked and said he wanted a bright pink coffin. Sawyer was convinced he'd only said that because his husband's favorite color was hot pink. She'd thought it was a joke. She didn't expect to be living without him by her side, his infectious laughter ringing in her ear.
She stood beside a taller man, his dark hair falling over his swollen eyes. His face was blotchy. Sawyer remained quiet, too occupied with the one million thoughts racing through her mind. She could only focus on the metallic film of jealousy and resentment tainting her tongue every time a new person walked towards the two and placed a hand on his shoulder. She could see the uncomfortable shift of his posture, the quiet murmur of his muffled 'thank you' ringing loudly in her ears. She offered a weak smile as another lady's hand rested on her upper arm.
"You're so strong." Her tone was pitiful, carrying unwanted sympathy for Sawyer who didn't want the attention. The woman turned her head towards Marcus, and somehow, she expressed more sympathy for Marcus than Sawyer and it made her blood boil. The woman squeezed Marcus' arm, her thumb brushing against the smooth Mohair of his posh suit. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Marcus...he was a great man. You two were perfect for each other."
Sawyer bit the inside of her lip and swallowed down the jealousy. She averted her eyes towards the Rabbi. Randy Mark, the same man that had been leading Sawyer and Aiden's worship since they could attend Temple. He looked lost, his usually bright face dulled into a sickening expression that didn't fit him. Sawyer had attended only a handful of funerals and had seen the mournful expressions of Mark. But then he looked like he himself was nearing death.
She wanted to speak to him but everything she wanted to say seemed stuck in her throat. She seemed to drown in thoughts crashing against her in constant waves, shoving her head below the surface and stealing all of the air from her lungs when she screamed for help. She was silenced by it, the crushing feeling of supporting the weight of an entire ocean on her shoulders that had already been fractured nearly three times from trying to climb the same tree faster than Aiden.
Her head turned towards a small cluster of women with perfectly curled hair and elegant clothing. Sawyer looked down at her black tights, skirt and Aiden's cardigan pulled over one of his t-shirts. Pa had told her she looked like him. She swallowed another lump in her throat and focused on the murmuring words of the women.
A woman with hair that was graying turned her head to look at Marcus and scoffed in a mocking manner. "Look at him...so lost and abandoned."
"They were hardly even married." sniggered another.
"First the twins' fathers being together and then Aiden marrying a man?" The woman with graying hair plucked the cherry from her Shirley Temple. That was always Aiden's favorite part; the cherry. "Truly a shame what their family has come to..."
"Poor little boy," the tone in which the strange woman used almost had Sawyer feeling sorry for Marcus. "Poor, poor little old Marcus. The poor, poor widower."
Despite herself, Sawyer pried her attention away. She pulled the cardigan closer to her and took a deep breath, hoping she would be able to smell Aiden's cologne clinging to the knitted material. She shouldn't be desperately sniffing out her brother's scent. She should be in the corner with him, their laughter entwining and dancing in the air because everyone looked so ridiculous in their long black clothes and slicked back hair. Their posh handbags and jutted out chests so they look tougher than they are but Sawyer would comment on their watery eyes. She shouldn't have been next to Marcus, the poor, poor widower that was left with nothing but the empty hole that Aiden's absence caused. She resented Marcus, the poor, poor widower. She despised the stupid void that she would never fill because the person with half her DNA would never breathe again and she felt crushed by the weight of that realization.
Sawyer's breath trembled as they took a stuttering gasp and braced herself against the wall behind her. Marcus turned his head and looked at her, and for a moment, the two just stood like that, holding themselves up with the wall being their only support.
Sawyer noticed just how terrible Marcus looked. His eyes were swollen, a trail of tears permanently engraved in his cheeks, smudging his freckles. He looked like he hadn't slept in days and Sawyer could feel her own exhaustion progressing the longer she looked at him. She felt a pang of guilt for her thoughts and the words uttered by those women, but as soon as it had come, it fizzled away into oblivion.
She looked at her guardians and wanted to beg them for guidance. They were the only people still lingering by the casket. The only people that could stomach the reality of the emptiness looming over the room with a biting ferocity. It was suffocating. Sawyer felt like she was alone even when surrounded by people who were still swarming her to apologize and hug her. They went from her to Marcus in a line, holding their damn Shirley Temples. Sawyer couldn't stomach the thought of drinking one, especially without Aiden sitting beside her.
Marcus couldn't handle much more than his own stomach bile. He'd been nauseous for what felt like an eternity and these strangers coming to console him weren't helping much either. He had grown accustomed to sleeping in the same bed as someone that he didn't think he'd ever be able to sleep by himself. Everything felt cold, and maybe it was because Autumn was fading away and blending into Winter, but the air was biting. Just thinking about it, Marcus shivered.
He was dreading the parading cars behind the hearse later between the traffic jams of strangers mourning someone they never even knew. He was dreading the Autumn wind and the fallen leaves. It all reminded him too much of when he and Aiden first kissed and the ache that always lingered seemed to dig deeper into his stomach until his innards were knotted and twisted together. Aiden had always reminded Marcus of those sweet memories, mentioning them whenever he could like a child might consistently brag about the gold medal it received to his or her grandparents. Marcus would never see Aiden's sparkling eyes adoring him again when he told that story of the car in Autumn.
Marcus hardly reacted when he felt another hand on his shoulder. He could tell who it was by the sight of gnawed fingernails he saw in his peripheral vision. He looked at Aiden's guardian, Sam, briefly. He couldn't bear the sight of his watery expression, his eyes swollen from the relentless tears. Marcus reached his hand upwards and wrapped his fingers around Sam's wrist but he didn't remove it from his shoulder. He just held him and pretended not to notice the way his breath wobbled as if he were near another breakdown.
"He's okay," Sam whispered. Marcus could tell the words weren't meant for him. They were meant for Sam, an act of assurance that seemed to be the only thing holding him together. "He's safe."
Marcus felt his stomach lurch. Sawyer pushed herself off the wall and grabbed her father's hand, removing it from Marcus' shoulder. Her eyes were dark when they shot daggers towards him but they lightened upon meeting Sam's gaze.
"Pa...why don't you go find Dad. I'm sure he needs you right now." Sam patted her hand, his eyes unfocused and far away as he walked towards Atticus, her and Aiden's other guardian. Sawyer turned to Marcus, her brows furrowed. "You do not speak to them."
"Sawyer, I didn't say anything about the case."
"You shouldn't even be working on it," She hissed. "I thought they had advised you not to take this case."
"Sawyer, please--"
"Why are you so invested?"
"He is my husband," Marcus didn't even sound mad. He sounded exhausted. Sawyer felt another wave of anger wash over her when he used present tense as if he was the one in denial. "I love him. I know he's your twin. I know that, but I'm capable of finding who hurt him, and I'm not going to pass up a chance like that!"
Sawyer scoffed. "Of course you have to be the hero."
Marcus shook his head, his eyes a silent plea. "Don't do this."
"You aren't welcome around my father's any longer," Sawyer spat. "You are not to call, text or even speak to them. And you are definitely not welcome anywhere in their home."
"Sawyer, I understand you're upset--"
"No," Sawyer sneered. "End of discussion."
Marcus' shoulders slumped and he retreated into himself. He felt sick but causing a scene was the last thing he wanted. He swallowed the ball of rage laced with sorrow filling his throat and choked on it silently. "I understand."
"Good." There was a long pause and the silence that tightened around the two adults' was deadly. Marcus wanted to claw at it. He wanted to apologize for everything, but he didn't even know what he would apologize for. Sawyer wanted it to kill Marcus. Then she saw the tears brimming in his eyes and she caved. "We'll leave for his burial in about an hour."
Marcus nodded solemnly. "Okay."
Sawyer said nothing further and returned to her father's. She rubbed her Pa's back as he cried into her Dad's shoulder, his sobs feeble and muffled into the satin of his husband's shirt. Sawyer felt helpless when he cried like that, his nails dug into her Dad's back or his shirt and his shoulders trembling with grief. Sawyer also felt selfish for even feeling grief at all because Aiden was Pa and Dad's child. He was their child. Sawyer had no right being angry at the world for that.
As everyone gathered their things, readying themselves to go to their cars and parade through the streets with Aiden's corpse, Sawyer had one last thought.
How would Aiden handle this?