I'm Sorry, Stefan

Chapter 4

*if you notice any mistakes, please tell me! Thanks –purplecat

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Stefan didn’t like wearing a suit. It was stiff, uncomfortable, and way too hot, especially during summer. With the funeral being outside, he was going to boil to death. His mom smiled when he walked downstairs, adjusting his tie and making comments about how grown up he looked. Stefan rolled his eyes and Continued to glare, pushing out for her way, and settling into the backseat of the car. There, he pulled his headphones out of his pocket and plugged in. he didn’t want to listen to his parents right now, and it would be easier to forget where they were going if he had his music on.

Stefan had begged his parents, pleaded with them for days, hoping that he wouldn’t have to come to the funeral. But every time he asked, they said no, so there he was, on his way there. His mother wore a shapeless black dress, with a navy blue button up sweater over top. Her light blond hair, similar to Stefan’s, was tied up in a bun. Her makeup was light, and it didn’t hide the tired circles under her eyes. It looked like Stefan wasn’t the only one who hadn’t slept last night. It made sense. Maya had been like a daughter to her, always over at their house.

His father’s dark hair was slicked back, and he wore a dark suit similar to the one Stefan was wearing. The only difference was that his father had stuck to a traditional grey tie, while Stefan had forced his mother to let him wear a sky blue one. It stood out brightly against the dark suit jacket, but it had been her favorite color.

They pulled up to the mostly empty parking lot. There was a small building where the reception afterwards would be held, and a tent with rows of seats for the service.  They had arrived early; Maya’s mother had invited them to sit with the family. They walked into the building; Where Mrs. Rose greeted them with hugs and kisses. Stefan couldn’t meet her eyes. Her husband stood in the background, looking sombre and distracted. Stefan found a comfortable chair in the corner, crossed his legs, plugging in his music and zoning out.  Slowly, more people trickled into the building, Most of them Stefan didn’t know. Relatives of hers, Aunts, Uncles, Grandparents, even.  Stefan tried to ignore them, and they did the same for him.

Soon, too soon in Stefan’s opinion, everybody was gathering by the doors, and forming a rough line, Stefan joining stepping in line behind his parents. His mother gave him a dirty look and pointed at his earphones. Sighed, he slipped them in his pocket. The doors opened, and they stepped outside, walked down the path, the dark-wood casket behind carried ahead of them. They approached the tent lowly, and Stefan could see all the people, already gathering in their seats, staring at them. Most of them were from his neighborhood, and he recognized their faces.  Keeping his head down, he took his at the end of the row, his parents on his left. Next to him on the bench was a box of tissues. He pushed it away.

The casket was lowered carefully next to the podium. It was made of dark brown wood, with a cascade of brightly colored flowers, mostly blue, on top. The flowers matched his tie. He forced himself to look away. The preacher took his place behind the podium, and welcomed everyone to the funeral. He called up the first speaker, and Maya’s father took the stage. Clearing his throat, he began to speak.

“Maya was always so full of life. I don’t think you ever saw that girl without a smile on her face. Her laugh was like the chiming if bells, whenever I heard it, which was quite often, I smiled. She was beautiful. She was funny. She was sweet, and caring, and she always thought about others before herself. I am thankful to have been able to call her my daughter.” He paused to take a breath. It was completely silent in the tent.

“Sixteen was too damn young. Her death was a tragic accident. She will be missed and remembered. I only wish she had more time to grow up.” His voice broke. He walked off stage, his tears hitting the collar of his suit. Stefan found himself reaching for the tissue box. He tried to tune out the rest of speakers and different members of her family, or friends from school took the stage.  He cried continually through, the box of tissues sitting on his lap. Some of the speeches stuck out in his memory. Her grandmother, coming up, with a vice as light as a feather. The principal of her school. And a tall, pretty girl, with brown hair cut short, like a boys.