UNSEEN

NINE

The black dress I pull out from Liv's wardrobe fits me better than I expected. Tight at the chest and stomach, loose beyond it. It reaches just above my knees. Must have been way shorter for Liv. I can say, without a doubt, I look good. There are always those days when I surprise everyone. I just didn't know it'd be at my grandmother's funeral.

After my fit of hysterics last evening, mother refused to take me to the funeral. She told me that Megan Lancaster had called her to inform her of my behaviour and that I had skipped four sessions. Mom also said that she'd call Doctor Tom Tressman right after she comes back.

Evan, the saviour, somehow convinced her to let me come and grieve. And now, I can't get that look in his eyes out of my head. Isn't it how it always is? The one person who seems to have his whole life together turns out to be a cold-blooded murderer.

I wish I could pull out of the funeral and go to Hailey's instead. But Evan has made that impossible for me and I can't help but wonder whether he did it on purpose.

And suddenly, I wish Miranda was alive, if it meant more time to put the pieces together.

As I sit in the car and we drive off, I feel twitching in my throat. This is going to be the third funeral I attend and only one of these affected me in any way.

After three hours of driving and listening to Jason whine, we pull over in front of a huge mansion, which I faintly remember from my childhood. To think, I remember very little. But whatever I do remember, it's crystal clear. I don't remember the whole garden but I remember this little, tilled patch where the cats peed. I don't remember the hall, but I remember it had a chandelier which was chipped on one side.

I remember how Liv and I used to glide on the marble floor and played seek in the hauntingly large palace Miranda called home. But my best memory of this place has to be my grandfather. His name was Abel and he was, pretty much, the only stable person in the family.

He wasn't illiberal and crude like Miranda, wasn't self-righteous like my mother, wasn't melodramatic like Liv, treacherous like Evan, heedless like Jason, a misogynist like my father. He definitely wasn't a lunatic like me.

And now I know why. He had cancer in his head. The brain tumour was called glioblastoma multiforme. I figure: either one is fucked up or one is dead.

This happened seven years back. We visited him a couple of weeks before he passed. I had no clue what cancer even was.

Liv was hiding and I was trying to find her. Although, I was miserably tired after not being able to spot her, I hopped up to the last place I hadn't checked. The Attic. It was locked. Locked doors always excited me. There was space between its edges and the walls. I was trying peep inside when Abel pulled me up in his arms. He kissed my cheek.

"What's in there?" I asked him.

"Nothing you want to see, honey."

"But I do!"

He sighed and put me down. He gaped at the attic door and smiled. His emerald eyes looked like they had nothing to hide. But his smile, it was a little crafty. Not in a bad way, really. It was like a childish fancy.

"Some things in our world, Reece, they're, well, unorthodox. They are weird, abnormal. But these abnormal things hold unfathomable beauty. Most people don't see it, they think it's foul and dark. But those of us who've found a way to embrace them, they know. They know it is nature in its truest form, it's real, it's pure, it's earthly and it's beautiful. So tell me, dear, are you ready to embrace the truth?"

I looked at him like I looked at everything. Perplexed. I didn't know what the fuck he was talking about and I didn't feel good about it, either.

"No." I said.

He laughed. "That's what I thought. Let's go eat ice cream."

And I ran after him in glee.

That's about all I remember. The next time I saw him, he was in a black box.

"Reece." It's Evan's voice. He and mom are waiting for me to get out of the car.

We enter the foyer, which has huge paintings of what looks like my thoughts. It looks absurd.

Then, we go into the hall, and I see her. She's in a brown coffin, her right hand placed on the left one. She wears her favourite pearl necklace.

There's serenity on her face, in her closed eyes. She looks like she's finally happy. She may be dead, but she has never looked so alive.

I take notice of everyone in the room. Falsified sorrow and hoaxed suffering, nobody really gives a shit. Of course, Miranda didn't have any Well Wishers barring her only daughter.

They are here for the same reason I'm here: we knew this sad, little lady. It gives me immense pleasure to see how lonely she was. But it makes me wonder, will me funeral be any different?

I look around, and at the door behind me, I see Calum. I haven't seen him in two months. I didn't expect to feel anything, but I do. I feel something straining. He looks at me with wildness in his eyes and then walks away. I have to go after him.

I start walking toward him and catch my mom's eye. She hates me, I can see it. Nothing I do can fix anything anymore. I love her, I do. But, maybe, I should just run away.

Far, far away and never come back.