The Melancholy In Her Cloud

Chapter 1

Rain pattered lightly on my shoulders. I had always loved rain. There was a miserable aspect to it that had drawn me to prefer it to any other shape the sky took. What drew me to miserable qualities? A great ability to empathize, I presumed. Where was I standing with the rain tapping down on my body like a typewriter? My best friend's funeral.
It had come to my demise that I wasn't too struck by the loss of my closest friend. I blamed the shock. I was sure I would become disconsolate in the upcoming week, it was only natural to mourn.  Surrounded in black-dressed figures, I found I was close to this man, but not to his family and friends. I could guess who a handful of people were. Which I occupied myself doing to pass the time. I never was a funeral man, I would have declined to come if I wasn't in the man's will. His name was Alexander King, the main thing we had in common was our occupation.
The very old lady standing beside the priest had to be Alexander's mother. I remember her from pictures in his home, and she seemed to be taking this funeral the hardest, being consoled by a middle-aged man, who was most likely Alexander's younger brother. I was also working off facial features to relate people, but my ability to do so was lacking. Standing next to them was another pair of mourners, and again, one seemed to be in despair, while the other held the person, comforting. The two seemed to be sisters. One I had actually seen before me prior to this day, Alexander's wife. I met her only once before, I had only been in Alexander's home twice in my life, her name was Tiffany. Tiffany King. The lady by her side and one arm wrapped around Tiffany's shoulder had to be a sister. Tiffany cried quietly, wiping her eyes every few seconds, she looked as if she had been crying for hours,  I didn't dare doubt it.
Next! My guessing game was doing good up until now, in which I actually had to start guessing. Standing directly across from me, on the other side of the hole dug to accompany the coffin, was a young woman who stood by herself. Only her face was visible in her black outfit, a black dress, tights, gloves and lace scarf. She also seemed to be looking around at the others attending the funeral. Our eyes met briefly and then she swiftly moved her gaze. Perhaps she was playing the same game as me. At the end of the coffin space was a small crowd of relatives and friends. Deciding most were cousins, uncles, aunts. nephews and nieces, Alexander really didn't have too many friends. He wasn't unsociable, he was just a busy man who dedicated his free time to his wife. 
To my right and left stood the only two people I knew. John Wilfred, a mutual, yet retired colleague. He still helped both Alexander and I when he could, visited us time to time and shared with us his great deal of collected contacts. I had known him as long as I knew Alexander, which was roughly a decade. Alexander's secretary, Sheryl, was also by me. A young woman I had known for several years, I usually saw her weekly when I would visit Alexander's office. She stood rather close to me, possibly in need of physical comfort. Something I wasn't willing to give at the moment. 
"Here, Oliver," Sheryl whispered to me, I looked over at her, a brow raised. She was gesturing for me to stand under her umbrella with her. I realized then that my earlier judgement was incorrect. 
"Thanks," I nodded, stepping under the umbrella, then taking hold of it. My hand rested on my shoulder limply. I was wearing a black trench-coat and so my dark hair was becoming damper by the second. I hadn't even noticed. 
The funeral was slow, it was an hour long but I felt as if I had been there all day. The priest did his best to cut around how Alexander had actually lost his life, only pointing out it was a "cruel act". He stood by the grave stone, one hand resting on it. No one else spoke for the ceremony. I wasn't asked to make a speech, although I had a feeling Alexander had noted that he didn't want anyone besides the priest to speak for his funeral. He was like that, selfless. Something I admired about him. 

Once the priest had finished, he then allowed us to leave our flowers on the coffin, which lay inside the dug hole. I drew mine from the inside of my jacket, a flower I picked on the way. A poppy flower. Lilies, snapdragons, gladioli, chrysanthemums, carnations and roses were among what others had brought as a tribute. All but three of us had brought a poppy flower. Alexander's wife; Tiffany, the girl who I had made eye contact with and myself. The one thing this told me was all three of us knew Alexander's favourite flower. 
After I had dropped my flower onto the coffin, and the others  too, and the coffin started to be covered with earth, the crowd dispersed, making their way back to their cars or the church, getting out of the rain. 
"Thanks, Sheryl," I lowered the umbrella so she could take it back off me. She nodded and gave a weak smile. It was more so just a raising of the corners of her mouth. Her face seemed lifeless, and her she looked as if her mind was somewhere completely different. Nonetheless, she started heading back to her car. As I turned, John beckoned me over. 
"Oliver, can I have a quick word?" John asked, looking over as he held up an arm, motioning towards a clearing under a tree, somewhere protected from the rain. He had brought a hood, however, so he was safe. Trees circled the whole area, and the north of the graveyard lead to a small forest.
"Sure."
We both looked at one another for a moment, I rarely talked to John about anything non-work related. Now we were both at a funeral, both hiding our emotions.
"Oliver, I think it would be best to take on Alexander's remaining patients. What do you think of that idea?" He asked. It wasn't a question of whether I'd do it or not, it was a question of how I felt about the whole decision. I owed John quite a lot, and I couldn't possibly say no.
"Yeah..." I nodded and shuffled on my feet a bit," I think-"
"I think it's time to return from that career break, Oliver. Come on, now."
"I know, I know. How many patients does he have?" I paused, tilted my head, then corrected myself," did he have, sorry."
"Just one."
"That's not too bad. Fine, I'll do it."
"Thanks, Oliver. How long has it been?" John asked. We hadn't talked face-to-face in quite awhile.
"Four months," I inhaled deeply, knowing the exact amount of days too, but I didn't want it to appear as if I was proud of my leave.
"What did you do?" John was trying to make small talk. I didn't mind though, I knew he'd be interested.
"Started writing a book... painted a bit. Taught myself violin. It went by pretty quick," I ran my hand through my wet hair, removing it from my eyes.
John nodded, raising his arm and patted my shoulder, letting out a sorrow-filled sigh. "Alright. It's good to see you again. I would have never of thought it'd be like this."
"Do you know what's going to happen to her? And yes, it's good to see you too."
"Happen to who?"
"The girl that killed Alexander..." I looked up and saw my words slap him in the face. His gaze was at our feet, and he slipped his hand off my shoulder, letting it fall to his side.
"Oh... she gave herself in so she's guilty, that's for sure. But I think she's being trialed for a security mental hospital. Which is pretty obvious."
"Yeah..." I looked over at the grave stone, everyone had cleared from the grave, two men were talking outside their cars and a small group of people stood in the doorway of the church.
John pulled back his sleeve and checked his watch. "Right. I have to go home and get dinner-"
"Still enslaved?" I looked up with a small smile.

John chuckled at the joke about his wife controlling a portion of his life and gave a humble nod. His laugh always brought a smile to my face, it was hearty and his chin always came back to push his neck into a second chin. His stubble beard helped hide it, but nonetheless it was humorous. After a moment, he sighed," you know Sheryl's number, she'll give you what you need. And if you're still stuck, I'm always around."
"Thanks, John. I'll be sure to get the patients file and such. Goodbye, John. Drive safe."
"Farewell."