P.I.

Flashback Funtime

After sleeping the entire day away, I wake up to a cat pawing my face. I look over at my clock.

"Shit, 3 PM. Sorry, cat." I say, getting up to feed her.

After I clean a dish and slap some canned food into a bowl, I decide it's high time to find out what this Lucy girl is hiding. Right now, there was just too much I didn't know.

Time for a stake-out.

Sounds cool, but not as glamorous or exciting as you'd think. It's a lot of waiting and holding your pee. It's just about as fun as watching grass grow, but at least I get paid. I sigh. Usually, I think bitterly, remembering my decision to work this case pro bono.

I parked outside of Koffee Kup and waited. I'd see anyone coming in or out. I'd follow Lucy to wherever she went after her shift, and after that, hopefully find out what the hell she was doing at Felix Global.

I sit in my car and wait. I try to ignore the thought that pops into my head about my mother. Why is she suddenly talking to me, let alone wanting to visit? I push it away with conviction.

But when you're alone with your thoughts, just waiting for something to happen, your mind does a funny thing. You start thinking of the thing you were trying not to think about, and then your brain train just keeps chugging along until you get into memory land.

~~~~

I stared at the casket, unblinking and unmoving. I hadn't shed a tear since he died. I was seventeen. I was supposed to be goddamn dancing queen, not staring at my father's corpse.

"Sweetheart," my mom coos softly with a sniffle. She grabbed, my hand and tugged me closer. "Say goodbye." she said, her voice just above a whisper.

I stood before the body. It didn't really look like him. It looked--oddly--like a wax figure. It was more of a reminder of the guy than my dad himself. He didn't look peaceful, really, he looked just...dead. How dead people looked in movies. Cold. I didn't dare touch him. It looked like he'd melt.

His nose didn't really look like his own, I noticed. It looked plastic. I blinked. I recognized his face, but it wasn't really his. It made me feel sick. It felt wrong.

I thought about if he were here, 'cause that's what they tell you, you know; "If your dad were here, he'd want you to be happy."

I think my dad would have laughed. Laughed at all the idiots in this room pretending to pay respects to him when really in their heads they are remembering all the times he borrowed money from them, or owed them a favor, because that's what people did.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" my mother asked, sweetly, briefly looking behind her to catch the glance of our neighbor, Mr. Halloran. Who the hell invited him?

"Are you okay?" I didn't think it was possible to get sicker of that phrase. Of course not. My dad is going to be in a box underground by the end of today. It was funny, actually. My dad once told me he'd rather be cremated.

Before I knew it, I snickered. Something in me snapped. I wasn't sure if it was good. The snicker turned into a giggle and my mother looked at me funny, staring with mascara stains running down her cheeks. My giggles dissolved into laughter. I threw my hand over my mouth to suffocate the loud noise. I ran out of the room, many pairs of eyes watching me as I slammed the funeral home door behind me.

~~~~