Shattered Appearances ✓

o n e: Silent Pain

The sounds of forced sobbing and silent whispers filled my ears as I stared at the scenery. Black dresses and ties lined my vision as everyone mourned the loss of a valued member of the community. I looked away from it and closed my eyes, wanting to believe that none of this was real. Too bad that nightmares don't end when you wake up.

I was pressed to the wall near the entrance. It was just me, my best friend, and a few other people. My father was informed of the death as soon as it happened so he would soon come to see the wife who he left behind.

Clary leaned on the wall next to me and said, "Are you sure you don't want to say goodbye to your mom? I know you'll regret it if you don't."

I just looked at her and responded, "I might. Or I might not. I'll take the risk."

She nodded but I knew that she didn't understand why I wouldn't approach the oak coffin.But Clary was right about one thing: I would regret it later on if I didn't do something.

I made my way to the front where her coffin lay. Sunflowers, her favorite flower, decorated the perimeter so it was shaped like an ark. I could still remember her words,

"If you're ever feeling upset, just look at a sunflower. It's beautiful yellow color should make anyone think of happiness. If not, then you're heartless."

She said that to make me laugh, but the memory only left a bitter taste in my mouth. It reminded me of when she would yell at me for stepping on her precious flowers. I rolled my eyes at the memory, fully knowing that she would at least want me to try and say goodbye.

I willed myself to feel some emotion as I stared at her. I remembered the days prior, where she could barely breathe and drifted in and out of consciousness. It killed me when her weak grip became non-existent and that my mother would never come back to me. She was gone.

It doesn't matter if the death is expected or unexpected, it still hurts like a bitch either way.

I turned to look at the sunflowers to see if her words were true. My blank face turned into a frown and I looked away.

I felt a touch on my shoulder, and the smell of cologne. My eyes hardened when I realized who it was. My father hadn't said a word to my mother for the past two years, and the fact that he was suddenly here, pretending to care, made my blood boil.

"Don't touch me," I spat out. He didn't listen though and I waited for a second before I forcefully shoved his hand off of me. He shouldn't start acting like a father now. "What are you doing here?" I asked after another second, even though I already knew the answer. He had to be here.

I stepped to the side, not wanting to accept the fact that he was here. I didn't want to go back to Maine just to be an outsider again. It wasn't really a surprise but a part of hoped that if I forgot about it, it wouldn't happen.

"You're still a minor, Zoey. You can't live by yourself."

I laughed bitterly as he said that. The words he used made it sound like he was forced to, not like he actually cared about my well being. "I can take better care of myself without you. I did it before, I can do it again." I rarely talked about the event that transpired two years ago, and when I did, it was under the scrutinising gaze of my psychologist.

My father stiffened and I knew I hit a nerve. Like me, he prefered not to live through the unfortunate events that neither of us wished to remember.

I could tell that he wanted to say something but decided against it at the last minute. Instead he said, "Let's not talk about it here. There are people around."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. All he cared about was public appearances. At least that's what I got from the summers I would spend in Maine with him. As a show of defiance, I turned around and took a look of all the people that were in the room. In a loud voice I said, "Hey look, I'm the daughter that this guy never wanted," I began as I pointed at him. "All he really cares about is whether or not I'm going to embarrass him. Kind of hypocritical when he easily does that by himself. I mean, shouldn't a self respecting person not leave their spouse all alone with a new baby to run off with some random woman?"

I smiled in satisfaction at the shocked faces of all my neighbors and family friends. It didn't even occur to me that I made a spectacle out of my mother's funeral. She wouldn't have wanted this. The smile fell off my face as I looked at my father. He tried to keep his composure, but his nose flared and he closed his eyes for a second, a sign of impatience.

"That's enough, Zoey. Have more respect for your mother."

Clary approached me at that moment and interrupted the incoming argument between us.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Newman, but can I steal Zoe for a bit? Thanks." She didn't wait for his response before dragging me out of the room and into the lobby.

"What the hell was that?"

It was like all the anger that I was containing finally came out and I kicked one of the plastic chairs.The sound of it falling could be heard in the lobby and it was sweet relief compared to the sounds of sobs and heaving. Clary only sighed and picked it up, waiting for my response.

"I can't live with them again. I don't want to go through that again."

"It'll be alright. We both have crazy families, yours is just a little bit crazier. You can always call me if you need anything."

I looked at Clary's half shaven head, the other half remained at it's normal length, up to her shoulders. I still remember when she dyed her hair pink, her mother chased her with a broom around the house. The color was slowly fading, but it was obvious she never regretted it.

"You don't know them like I do. They're the perfect family, and they ruin anything that threatens to change that. I don't want to feel like an outsider again."

"You aren't a fifteen-year-old girl anymore. You can take them. And if you ever need me, I'll take the eight hour drive to Maine and bring you ice cream. No chocolate; I know you hate it."

Clary went to the front of the lobby where they were selling various types of flowers. She bought one sunflower and came back here. Giving it to me, I twirled it in my hands and stared at it.

"Remember your mom, Zoey. You won't be sad forever. Look at the sunflower and be happy."

A tear fell from my cheek and into the bud of the sunflower. I quickly looked away and wiped my cheek. I hated crying, it made me feel weak. Clary pretended she never saw anything and said, "Are you ready to go now?"

Trying to sound stronger than I really was, I replied, "Yeah. I think I am."

Going back inside, I saw my father in the same spot where I left him. Everyone was staring at him as he looked at my mother fondly. Sensing another eye on him, he immediately turned around, straightened his tie, and left the building. My father doesn't cry but right now, looking at him, I got the sensation that maybe I wasn't the only one that was suffering.

Turning to Clary, I braced myself to say my farewells, for at least a year.

"So I guess this is it, huh?"

"No, this is not it. I'll come back when I turn eighteen next year. Don't worry, I'll be here to bitch you around soon enough. This isn't a goodbye. This is a see you later."

We both smiled before I finally said, "Well now I have to go with my father. I'll be surprised if I make it through the year with my sanity intact."

She laughed which wasn't the best thing to do in a funeral home, before I faintly smiled and left.

It was then that I realized that I wouldn't be there for the burial of my mother, and at that very moment, I allowed some sadness to pour through for the first time.