Discovered

Chapter 9: Grandpa's Funeral

As soon as we got out of the car, Grandma led us into the house where thousands of Grandpa's friends roamed around the dining room.

They were all dressed in different shades of black with solemn faces. Just then, Mom slapped her head frustration as she looked at my clothes. "Cleo," she whispered. "Come upstairs, I need to get you a black dress."

I slowly nodded in embarrassment then glanced at the small bird-like man in a black suit and tie, leading the group of melancholy people into another room. Probably where they will start the ceremony.

While Mom left the house, I hurried upstairs until I found a door standing right in front of me. Like the wooden floorboards, it looked like it had been destroyed by a cat. Thin scratches scribbled on the door as if it was a crayon.

Opening this door was a pain. After a few twists, the knob wouldn't budge. Suddenly, a thought came to my mind. Maybe I could try it with the lockpick. Reaching into my knapsack, I pulled out the black kit and inspected the thin silver instruments.

Careful not to make any noise, I fit the lock with two small metal sticks and twisted them until I heard a small click. Happily, I tucked the items away and opened the door.

The door led me to a dusty room where wood covered every crook and cranny. Boxes full of old pictures, tapes, and books pile up in stacks then pushed against the corner of the room.

Instantly, a wave of old perfume fell under my nose. Ugh, it's like something died in here. Taking my knapsack with me, I decided to explore around the room. I lifted one of the boxes from the stack and searched inside it.

I pulled Grandpa's Calculus textbook the plopped it on the ground, letting dust scatter all around the floor. Recoiling at the sight of dust, I opened the book to its first page then studied it.

There was something scribbled on it. 32897? I wondered. What does that even mean? "Cleo?" someone called. Mom. I tossed the book into the box and placed it back where it was. The sound of Mom's heels pounded on the floor until they stopped.

I found Mom standing in front of the door, holding out my glittery black dress and sneakers. Smiling, I took the dress while Mom closed the door behind her. Quietly, I slipped off my clothing and put on the dress and sneakers.

As soon as I laced my shoes, I folded my street clothes then set them on the floor. I snatched the strap of my knapsack then walked out of my room. I looked down to see my mother downstairs waiting for me.

"Cleo," Mom whispered. "Come downstairs, everyone is waiting for you." Swallowing a gulp,  I quickly followed her to the living room, where the podium and fifty metal chairs were filled with people. Besides the podium was a photo of Grandpa, smiling like a mischievous child. He had white hair peeking out of ears, brown eyes, and wrinkled brown skin.

In front of the metal chairs was a huge hardwood coffin. Grandpa must be sleeping happily in there. I thought. But thinking about my dream and the numbers in front of Calculus page, I wonder if Grandpa was keeping something from the family.

As much as I wanted to tell my parents, I didn't want them to make them think that I was crazy. Somehow, I need to find the answers on my own. Probably, just like Mom whenever she solves problems.

The old man who looked like a bird, cleared his throat and began the ceremony. Instead of going into detail, let me explain what Grandpa's funeral was like: it was super depressing and  uncomfortable. The only thing I hate about this funeral is that the old man who saying the prayers and the vows, sleeps in the middle of his sentence. It took Grandma awhile before she woke him up and continued his speech.

But other than that, most people were crying while some were just staring off into space. But the only people who weren't reacting violently at my grandfather's funeral was my mother, my father, Grandma, me, and Uncle Seth, but it was only because he was flirting with a female English teacher. I know this is mean and all, but I have no doubt Grandpa hates this funeral as much as I did.

After a long prayer, men from the audience carried the coffin out of the living room and buried Grandpa under the layers of dirt. Along with a tombstone, one of the men pressed the bottom of the slab in front of Grandpa's grave. Here Lies Lewis Porter was chiseled on the stone. Underneath the words, was the birth year 1976 and the year that he died.

As soon as the funeral was over, everyone headed over to the house for Grandma's macaroni salad. We ate quietly, we stared at the grandfather clock, and when it was time to go, everyone just apologized Grandma for the loss of her cheating, poker obsessed, lying ex-husband. Or, that's what some people told me.

I saw Uncle Seth, eating his salad alone so I decided to join him. I pulled a chair under the table and sat beside him. Noticing my sadness, uncle dropped his fork on the half eaten noddles then gazed at me. "Hey niece," he greeted. "So, who was the chick you were talking to during the funeral?" I asked. Uncle Seth drank his ice water then said that she was the girl whom he had met in an online dating site.

He pointed to the sophisticated, attractive woman with brown hair, wearing library glasses, and wore her black evening wear. "That's Georgia Minton," he whispered to me with a wink. "That's the girl?" I asked. Uncle Seth nodded then looked at me. "Now that the funeral is over," he began. "What are you going to do?"

I was about to open my mouth and say something until I heard two girls talking in hushed whispers straight across the table.