Safe Travels

Black Tie Funeral

Black had always been one of my favorite colors. I made jokes about how it was because the color was "dark like my soul", but it was so much more than just edgy or cool. Black had always been such an elegant color to me, and worn right it always gave me a confidence boost.

That being said, I never once loathed being in black as much as I did the day Thomas was released from prison.

Three days after mom died. Three nerve racking, anxiety ridden days. Three days of being on what was basically a suicide watch, because Alaine said she just wanted to make sure I was alright but I know she saw my scars when she helped me bathe. Three days of not even being able to bathe myself because I shook so much I couldn't walk.

I never imagined my mother's death would be this detrimental to me. Horribly enough, I always imagined I would feel very little. Not just about my mother's death, but anyone's death really. I always saw life and death as going hand in hand, never seeing a reason to be upset about the dark accompanying the light.

Or that's what I told myself when I had suicidal thoughts, anyway.

Thomas was released early because of mom's death. They still had things to sort through, but he was granted time for her funeral. Alaine had gone back to her home at some point when I was asleep to retrieve her car, and now we were driving a black Cadillac to the airport. Fitting.

It wasn't just the car or our clothes or our luggage that was dark and colorless, it was the entire world. The entire world was now monotone and void of any life. I felt that horrible, numbing depression I felt the week before my suicide attempt. A part of me was under the impression that I was dreaming. Alaine had to force me to sleep on the plane, because if I fell asleep that meant I was never dreaming.

When we landed in Austin I broke down crying halfway through customs. The guard looked at me like I was crazy, as did everyone else behind me in line. I'm pretty sure I got dragged off for questioning, but it's all a big blur. I don't know how long it took, but soon enough we were at the front of the airport, waiting for a ride.

I glanced around casually and caught a glimpse of a grey BMW. I did a double take, praying that the man in the driver's seat wasn't who I thought it was.

My father.

He had the same greased back black hair. The same stubble on his jaw. The same arrogant posture. The same smirk. I had hoped to never see any of it ever again, never see him again. But there he was, in his brand new BMW convertible, smiling and waving like he'd been an active part of the family his whole life.

"Hey there kiddo," he yelled when he approached. "Long time no see! Get in!"

I moved closer to Thomas and grabbed Alaine's hand. "Hey... Gary."

Gary's face fell. I don't know what he was expecting, but I obviously didn't deliver.

"Get in. All of you. We're going to the funeral."

We all reluctantly climbed into the backseat, and once we were buckled in I couldn't help the words that came next.

"Why are you going to mom's funeral?"

He glared at me, "She was my wife."

That made me bristle, "yeah. Emphasis on was."

The rest of the ride consisted of awkward silence and the road rage induced outburst from Gary. I was almost happy to get out of the car and to the cemetery chapel.

It was raining. The sky was a dark, melancholy grey. The chapel was filled with family members and old friends. My grandmother was the first one that recognized me.

"Hey there kid. Sit down here with the old folk for a bit."

She smiled at me kindly and I looked back at Thomas and Alaine. Gary had magically disappeared. Figures. Thomas gave me a sad smile and a thumbs up.

"Okay. Sure."

"You missed the wake. It was yesterday."

"Wow. That's... Soon."

"We had her preparations made beforehand. We... We all knew this was coming."

I nodded sadly, "I would've been here, but she sent me to live with uncle Thomas."

Grandma looked a little sad then, and asked; "oh. He's here then?"

I nod.

"How is he?" She asked gingerly.

The words I said next were probably the stupidest words I'd uttered in my entire life. I could've said anything. I could've told her he was fine. Anything. But the words came before I could stop them.

"He got arrested."

"Oh- maybe it's not such a good idea that-"

Just then the priest spoke. I ran back to my seat between Alaine and Thomas and shot my grandmother an apologetic glance.

The funeral went by painfully. The priest said prayers. People spoke good words about her, told stories. We walked down the road to the cemetery. My mother's casket was lowered into the ground. Then there was complete silence and everyone had their heads bowed. I was fighting back tears, biting my lip so hard it bled.

Alaine held my hand the whole time, giving me all the strength I couldn't muster up myself. I was thankful for her and Thomas at that moment.

There's nothing more reassuring than having a well of strength to draw upon when you're attending a black tie funeral.