A Short Story: The Truth

Part Three

      At this point, I was enraged- my sisters were, too. She had the audacity to reprimand us for not appreciating him? If she knew what he had done to the three of us when we were kids she would change her mind. She wouldn't be saying we were at fault; it was because of those words that my mind was made up. I knew I had to do what I had been planning to since we'd received the news of our father's death: I had to tell the truth. My sisters could see the wheels turning in my head, and I imagine my thoughts were transparent. My sister, who was closest to my age, looked at me and captivated my soul with eyes that matched mine.

     "Charlie, if anyone is strong enough to do this, it's you. I know how scared you must feel, but trust me when I say that this: you're special. There's something different about you, and this is your time to use it. Your brain, your soul, Charlie you're wired differently than other people; you see everything in this lighting that just radiates the truth. People will see that truth through you, C, through your words, and they'll know everything. Your eyes are windows, and the scars on your soul are going to prove to everyone who ever doubted us that we weren't the crazy ones."

     My sister's speech nearly brought me to tears, yet everyone else was oblivious to her words. They were too focused and obsessed with the beautiful lies Rachel was spreading about my father. It was a bit of a bittersweet type of thing; the words were wonderful, telling about the dad of my dreams. However, him taking us to baseball games and camping trips, boat rides and sports practices- they weren't all happy memories. In fact, they were just the opposite. I found it difficult to muster up a memory of my father that didn't scare me, and that was the motivation behind doing what I did next: I stood up.

     All eyes were on me. Rachel's voice stopped. The frequent sobs coming from Frog's throat seized. All noise in the room was sucked out; the only thing I could hear were my heavy footsteps making their way to the front of the room. I began my short but difficult walk to the podium with my head down, watching my feet and willing them to keep moving. But with each step I took, each forced movement I made, I felt more and more empowered. Having sat towards the back of the room, I passed nearly the entire audience on my way to the front. It was as if each row I passed, filled with people mourning the death of an undeserving man, I gained bravery. As I walked down the center aisle, all of the crying came to a halt, and not a tear was shed in the entire room. Maybe my sister was right; maybe I was the hope for these people, and they recognized that. Maybe there was a light somewhere inside of me that I had never known about, and maybe, just maybe it was shining for them. As I walked through the room, I had hope, and it was because of this that I held my head up high. The closer I got to the front of the room, my gaze locked onto Rachel's eyes, willing her to step from behind the podium and take her seat. When I was four or five rows away, a hand stretched from the pew and grabbed my arm. When I looked down, startled, I saw my Great Uncle Leonard staring back at me with his big grey eyes. Having once been a very handsome man, behind the wrinkles I could see strong features resting. He was my grandmother's brother, my father's uncle, and a man who always saw things the way that I did. As a little girl, I always loved going to see him, but when my parents divorced, the visits stopped; at this point, I hadn't seen him in what seemed like ages.

     "You're doing the right thing, love. I'm so proud of you, and your grandmother would be, too. She always told me you would do great things, and I never doubted her for a minute."

     Uncle Leonard's kind words, and the reassure of my grandmother from beyond the grave, made me sure of what I was doing. Before I was able to take another step, my uncle motioned for me to lean close to him. I positioned my ear closely to his mouth, and allowed him to speak to me in a raspy whisper, barely audible and full of wisdom.

     "Don't ever let your light burn out."

     I smiled down at him, continued strongly, and soon took Rachel's place behind the podium. I looked out across the crowd and took in the scene; I had done my best to avoid looking at anyone aside from my sisters the entire service thus far. Standing in front of so many familiar faces- it was bizarre. Some of my father's best friends that I'd known since I was a baby, and so many family members that I hadn't seen in years. Yet no matter how well I had once known the person, all the faces looked the same: dull, plastered on, and empty. Whether this was from sadness, or from shock, or even because of me and the disruption of my own father's funeral- I would never know. However, I used it to my advantage; it was much easier to focus with statues staring at you than crying faces searching for comfort that I couldn't provide. I inhaled, attempting to calm the storm in my brain, and I began.