The Troublesome Tale of Robin Tyler

..::< A Loss - 12 >::..

Well, for about a day I was genuinely happy.

Then Mr. Henderson died.

I was fiddling around with my new phone at the dining room table, downloading random games that even sounded remotely interesting from the app store. David was in the kitchen preparing breakfast when suddenly he'd gotten a phone call. I hadn't paid much mind to it, until he hung up and looked in my direction with sorrowful eyes.

Immediately I got a terrible feeling in my stomach, but the words that came out of his mouth sent the pain straight to my heart.

"Robin, Mr. Henderson passed away in his sleep last night." 

I didn't know how to react when he told me the news. I wanted to cry, scream, deny the painful truth; but there was no energy, no sadness left for me to show. I was numb. I stood there looking at David with emotionless eyes. He quickly moved to me, pulled me into an embrace, yet I still made no movement in return. 

As it hurt me knowing the old man was gone, it didn't come as a surprised that he'd passed. I could tell in the last few months before my departure he was getting more and more fragile by the days. But I could have sworn that man would live forever, impossibly like Mr. Magorium.

David tried getting to me, asking if I was okay, what he could do, begged me to say something. I looked him in the eyes, and only replied, "I'm going to bed."

David nodded his head and allowed me to go. I barely remember the walk to my bedroom, but as soon as I walked in my doorway and looked at all my photos hanging on my wall, it hit me. The tears flooded down my face, as I thought about how much that man had raised me.

He was with me before my first day at school, he was supporting me when I started photography, hell the man taught me how to ride a bike! It was as if I just lost a father. All those kids in that foster home lost a father today.

The tears subsided and the numbness swallowed me again, and the only thing I wanted to do was sink into my bed and ignore the world.

So that's what I have been doing for the past three days. Locking myself away from everything. Even David, who persistently came to my door every few hours asking if I would come out. I never replied, never moved. When it came to eating, I didn't want to. But still David would still slide whatever he could under my door for me. Knowing I had to be starving but had no motivation to do anything about it.

On the fourth day of my isolation, David had told me he'd return in a few hours. I didn't ask why, I just let him leave. Knowing the funeral was two days from now wasn't making me feel any better. Then again, I wasn't sure what would. 

My bed was started to feel like a gross nest beneath my body, and I was sure there was some kind of rancid smell about my room that my nose learned to ignore. I finally thought about showering, yet sleep sounded so much better. So that's what I did, until David got home. 

I was jolted awake by a pounding on my door. I groaned and rolled over onto my stomach with my pillow over my head. The loud thumping on the door didn't stop, and it started to give me a headache. Before I could yell at David to leave me alone, the slamming stopped and someone else's voice came through the door.

"You open this door right now Robin! You don't understand how pissed I am at you right now!"

When I knew I should've been overjoyed to hear my best friend's voice, I was instead annoyed. What did he have to be pissed at me about? I almost wanted to move, but still I had no energy. But James continued.

"You're really wasting your days sulking in your bed for a man who wanted you living your best life? Is that anyway to mourn his death?! You selfish brat!"