Red November

three.

The procession moved back to my house and people wandered aimlessly in a haze of mourning, making poor attempts to fill their hollow hearts with incessant conversation. Words of sympathy and shared memories blanketed the warm air that swirled from the thrumming air conditioner. Distant aunts and cousins drifted about offering food and drinks, anything hot to thaw their cold hearts. Nobody really cared. They truly hadn't then, and I doubted they did now.

Not the nights when mom must have woken up so broken she had barely wanted to move. Not the days when the secret war inside her heart began winning her fight against oblivion. Not even the morning that the blackness won, and dragged her into the depths of the frigid waters of nothingness. But neither was I.

An icy hand on my shoulder broke me from my thoughts. The eyes of my father looking down on me gave me a small burst of hope inside my heart that we could be okay. He smiled gently and gave my shoulder a squeeze. I nodded in response to his silent question. I was fine, or at least, I would be.

~ ~ ~

The next few hours weren't completely unbearable. My best friend, Nicole, spent the time with me coming up with ridiculous back stories for my family.

"That guy, the one with the navy vest, yeah, I reckon he's having an affair with blondie with the pearls over there." She laughed.

"Nic, there's no way, he's gay for starters!" I laughed, glad to feel the warmth of companionship.

"Yeah but that's just his cover" She replied winking.

~ ~ ~

Eventually Nicole had to leave with her parents, her step mom offering to help us in any way possible. We thanked the rest of the guests as they left and eventually the room was left with just four of us. Me, my dad, my brother Ryan, and my sister Rosie. We looked silently at each other before everyone went their separate ways. Our mom was the best at communicating in our house.

I slumped in my double bed and nestled myself among the pillows. How many times had I sat like this while I talked to my mom. I curled my mind away from that train of thought by checking my phone.

The screen lit up with a message as soon as I picked it up. My lock screen full of messages of sympathy and reassurance from friends who couldn't make it today. I replied to a few and thanked them before a knock on my door broke the silence.

"Dinners ready." Rosie said, her voice dull.

I nodded and joined my family, or what was left of it, downstairs.

The table was set with four plates instead of five. It looked too empty, but I didn't want to make a fuss, so I just took my usual seat. Ryan was last to the table, and unsurprisingly, also noticed the change.

"What? Where the other plate?" He asked, gesturing to the empty space.

"Ryan, I, uh... I didn't think we'd need it." Rosie replied, her eyes downcast as her blonde hair fell into her eyes.

"Like we don't need mom? You think we can just act like nothing happened? Like this is all okay?" Ryan asked, his voice growing louder as he continued.

"Buddy I don't think Rose meant anything by it." Dad said, giving him a firm pat on the back.

"Ryan I'll get it out if you want." Rosie said, the beginnings of tears in her eyes, as she stood and walked to the cupboard.

"No! It's too late! She's gone, a fucking plate won't fix it!" He yelled, curling his fists by his sides.

"I'm sorry!" Rosie screamed, leaning her elbows on the kitchen counter as she let out her tears.

"Yeah, well, fuck you." Ryan said as he grabbed his car keys and walked to the front door.

"Ryan! Ryan! Don't speak to your sister like that!" Dad interjected, stopping Ryan. "Buddy, we're all hurting, you've got to understand that we're doing the best we can."

Ryan looked so angry I thought he was going to punch dad, and I cautiously got out of my seat for lack of knowing what to do. But instead, Ryan, my 18 year old 6 foot 1' brother collapsed in my dads arms and started bawling.