CHAPTER 1
A beautiful melody, heavy with grief, reached his ears as he opened the doors of the church. The door creaked, as he stepped inside the air-conditioned room. A few heads turned, and the speaker paused and glanced up to find the culprit of the interruption. After a few seconds, the speaker clears his throat ready to begin his speech anew. To the few heads that still stared at the stranger, he gave a quick nod of apology and slipped into the back pew. With that, the service continued.
Why am I here?
"We are here on behalf of Joey Osten…" the speaker continues. A woman’s wail was heard from the front of the church. It echoed through the walls of the church. The man cringed, but not in response to the woman’s cry of anguish. It was the name. That name. Joey. The man’s face contorted into pain, but only for a second. That named surfaced so many memories into his mind, but now was not the time. With a last bit of effort, he forced those memories into the furthest crevices of his mind and turned his attention back to the service.
"Mrs. Osten, would you please come up to say a few words." As the speaker stepped down, a woman from the front pew stood up and made her way to the podium. Her face was stained with tear stains and she carried a handkerchief which from his point of view was drenched with tears. The man guessed that it was Jo-..Mr. Osten’s mother. Despite the situation, the corner of his lip turned up in a half smirk. His friend could never settle for one woman. He hated being grounded, so to him marriage was not an option. In fact, he hated being grounded to anything…
"Thank you all for coming. I know Joey wasn’t the best of boys, but he would have appreciated all of you.."
Mrs. Osten gasped and sobbed. The stranger realized that must have been the woman that cried out earlier. A movement from the front pew caught the corner of his well-trained eye. A man hurriedly made his way to Mrs. Osten’s side. The man looked very dignified and poised. His jet black hair was slicked black and he had strong facial features. His skin was bronzed like those out of a modeling magazine. In fact, he looked like a politician and a ladies’ man. His face held similarities to that of the deceased, but harsher and colder. He looked very familiar.
Maybe an uncle? Nah, too young. A cousin, maybe? Or maybe even a brother? Though he never talked about a brother…
"I’m sure, my mother, is very happy that you all took the time to come. Mary Ann? Would you finish the service?"
Bingo. It would be like him not to mention having a brother. From the looks of it, seems like it’s his little brother.
He watched as the other Mr. Osten held Mrs. Osten and led her back to the pew. As the music of the violin washed over him, he felt himself relax as he sifted through his childhood memories to remember anything about this man who called Mrs. Osten mother and indirectly claimed the right to being the deceased’s brother. The service ended, and guests were directed to the front of the church to pay their last respects to Mr. Osten and condolences to his family. Even as he made his way up, the stranger’s thoughts scanned through endless childhood memories searching for the face and name of the unknown brother.
Funny? I can’t believe I didn’t recognize Joey’s mother…”
Soon he found himself in front of the casket, and glancing down he recognized the Joey he’d always known. Suited in a tuxedo, his blonde hair was slicked back like that of his brother, but what caught his eye was his facial expression. It wasn’t at all like Joey’s usual expression, but his lips were in a straight line almost in a grimace. Like he was hurting.
Is this what the old man was talking about?
"You seem a little too happy for a time like this, stranger."
The voice sounded harsh, you could say cynical. He glanced up and found himself face to face with Mr. Osten, brother of the deceased.
