The Mortician's Daughter

No Rush

"Andrew! Come out for dinner!"

His head snapped up, and he stared at the red mark on his arm where his cheek had been pressed up against. Groggily, he turned his gaze over to the tiny digital clock sitting on his bedside table, the glowing green numbers reading 6:00 pm. I was asleep for that long? 

He sat up, stretching. Looking towards his bedroom door, he could see the bright light in the hall that shined through the tiny cracks. It was dark in his room. He must've been asleep for two hours, at least.

Standing and flipping on the light, he located his full-length mirror, which stood alone in the corner of his room below the gallery of posters and band photos on the wall. He fluffed up his hair a little so it wouldn't lay so flat against his head, sort of slightly re-teasing it with his fingers. Hair problems.

"Andrew! Are you coming!" came his father's voice from outside his bedroom door.

"Yeah, Dad, I'll be right there!" he called back. He sighed, grabbing the near-empty can of hairspray off of the top of his dresser, and attempted to get the rest out, but no matter how hard he tried and pushed the nozzle down, he couldn't force the rest out. He cursed, tossing the empty can in the trash, and made his way out to the kitchen to serve himself and then sit at the table.

Every night he and his parents would take turns praying before they started to eat, and often during times that it was his mother's or his father's turn to pray, Andy had wandering eyes.

Religion was complicated, and though he was fascinated by it, there was so much more to learn. He always just wondered and thought about it when it was someone else's turn.

Tonight it was Andy's turn to say the grace before the meal. He took a deep breath. Maybe he would finally get it right this time.

The good thing was, his parents never made him feel any pressure for stumbling over words in a traditional Catholic before-meal grace. The bad thing was, Andy was the one to give Andy a hard time about it.

He looked up at his parents one last time before bowing his head and closing his eyes, also racking his brain about which prayer he was supposed to say.

"H-Hail Mary," he stuttered slowly, "full of grace...." He looked up at his father.

"Grace Before the Meal, son," he reminded gently.

Andy nodded, his hands fidgeting underneath the table. "Um, right." He once again bowed his head. "Bless us, O Lord.... a-and these Thy gifts...." He paused. ".... which we are about to eat -- I-I mean, receive from Thy bounty through Christ our Lord. A-Amen." With shaking hands he quickly made the sign of the cross over his chest, as did his parents, immediately after digging into his plate of dinner. He sighed in relief.

Finishing his first sip of water, Andy cleared his throat once he felt calmer. "Hey, Mom, could you get me another can of hairspray at the store, please? I just ran out of my last can."

"Of course, hon. Just make sure you remind me to put it on the list after dinner."

"Thanks."

He'd guessed his father hadn't had too hot of a day at work, hence his silence. Usually Chris Biersack was in a pretty good mood, but it seemed like it hadn't been his day today.

Andy, for once, could actually disagree.

After a few moments of quiet besides the background noise of the rock sounds coming from the radio in the kitchen, Andy spoke. "So, uh.... you know Scout, right? That girl I met a few weeks ago outside the mortuary after school that one day?"

Chris and Amy both nodded at their son in response.

"Well, she moved. Only temporarily, though. Like, only for a few months.

"A few months?" Chris repeated, eyes wide. "Well, for what?"

Andy exhaled, looking up and meeting the eyes of both of his parents. "She's in arts school, in L.A. And I want to go, too."

*

"Andrew, you can't just meet a girl and then go live with her several states away! Sweetheart, you're only fifteen years old! You're still a child!"

"I'm a teenager, Mom!"

"You're still my child. And you always will be. I can't just let you go to Los Angeles all by yourself."

"I won't be alone, though. I'll be with her."

"Still. It's not as if so don't trust her, but.... I'd be too afraid for you to go and be out there on your own without anyone you really know well."

Andy nodded slowly, knowing she was right. Arguing would not do him any good right now, but he needed to tell them that she, Scout, was not the only reason he wanted to go there. She was one of the reasons. The motivation.

"She's not the main reason I want to go, Mom and Dad. I want to go to arts school in L.A. I want to try out.

"If that's what you really believe you want to do, Andy...."

"It is, Dad," Andy replied. "You can believe me, I swear.

Chris nodded respectively. "Then go for it, son. I believe you."

"We'll think about it, Andrew. It's a bid decision to make, and it'll require some time so that we can make smart choices we won't regret," Amy explained to her son, knowing how important this was to him. She wanted the best for him, and she didn't want to make any mistakes. "You'll just have to wait and see. We love you more than anything, Andy, and waiting some time for the final answer.... it's for the best. You can trust me when I say that." She leaned over towards Andy, kissing his head and hugging him close to her. She would do anything to keep her precious son safe and out of harm's way.

That's what moms did, anyway. They protected their families, and most of all -- their children.