Masterpiece

Chapter 18

When I woke up the next morning, my heart sunk all the way down to my feet.
I stuffed my head between my pillows, trying to make this day disappear into nothingness, but no matter my efforts this day was still in full progress. I groan against the cloth of my bed.

A series of knocks reverberates against the door. I trudge to the door and open it to find John standing behind it. He looks me over intently before engulfing me in a hug. I melt into his arms, not wanting to be anywhere else at the moment.

"You look like you needed a hug," he says lightly into my ear.

I draw him closer and peck him softly on the lips before pulling away and collapsing on my bed, my face embedded in the blankets.

"I don't want to leave the house. I don't want to go to Connecticut. I don't want to go to the funeral. Hell, I don't even want to get up," I grumble.

I hear him sit on the bed. "Yeah, well you don't get to do what you want to do. You gotta be there for your dad."

Damn it, I hate when he's right.

"Ok, ok," I say getting up and heading to my closet. I decide on a petite looking black dress, because that's the one that matches both the occasion and my sucky mood.

"John? Will you come to the funeral with me?" When I look at him, he seems unfazed and also a little confused.

"Wasn't that a given?" he asks. And with that, he walks out of my room.
                           ~~~

When I meet John outside, he's sitting by Amelia's car wearing a collared shirt topped with a tie, jeans, and dress shoes. I'd never seen him dress up before.

And then my mind takes a turn, in which I wish it hadn't. I only have two days left here. After tomorrow I'd be gone, just another tourist who's overstayed their visit. And then I remind myself of the one who should be the first to know, but will ultimately end up being the last.

I look at John. He's leaning on the car, his head perched downwards looking at his phone. He hasn't noticed me standing here yet. I must look like a weirdo, gazing at him with intense eyes like a child would gaze at a ten foot lollipop.

"Don't think I don't notice your staring", he glances up at me for a millisecond before turning his attention back to the device,"Please continue." He smirks to himself.

I roll my eyes as I walk towards him. "Let's just go get this over with."

After a much too long drive, we skid into my hometown. I give him directions to the location of the funeral site. Though, my mother didn't bother to tell me exactly where it was, I had a hunch, considering my dad used to talk about where he desires to be buried. He admires the place so much, if any person didn't know any better, they'd think he was planning his vacation.

When we arrive, the scene looks like every cliche funeral that I've ever seen. White chairs, drawl decorations, and sad people. I know I'm going to get a crook in my neck soon because I've been staring at my toes since we got there.

I don't want to look up because I know what I'll see: a big ominous casket sitting right in the front of everything. I didn't want to see my dad's pale, life less face. It would be too much. So I stayed glued to my seat, eyes still focused on the things below me instead of in front.

I only heard what was happening. I heard the mic crackle as someone spoke into it. I heard my fair share of sniffles, most of which were my own. I heard my mother's speech. I even heard the thunder from above. Raindrops patter on the ground, like the sky is also crying along with everyone else.

You and me both, sky.

Fingers wrapped themselves around my chin, lifting it upwards. John kisses my forehead.

"It's over, Mona. You can look now." He says this with a slight chuckle in his words, but then suppresses it quickly with a stale smile.

Sure enough, when I finally lifted my head, there were less people. I had actually stared through the entire funeral. One half of me was relieved while the other half was ashamed.

At least John was here, so I wouldn't look dumb alone. The rain still comes down on us only  harder this time. I have no umbrella so my hair curls against my cheeks in wet, stringy spirals.

I turn to see my mom walking toward me. I stand up to greet her, but almost lose my balance on the wet grass when she hugs me tightly. Her body jolts continuously as she cries on my shoulder. Before long, I'm crying with her. We cling to each other in the midst of the cold droplets falling down.

I couldn't help but feel that this moment was a sweet, sweet revelation; an end to the endless amount of quarrels. We apologized to each other not with words but with each and every tear.