Sweet Dreams

Chapter 2

The enchanting double doors open. The church's fairytale-like architecture hid the sight of the gloomy indoors behind tall brick walls. There were colored pebble paths, magical stone fountains, white and burgendy English roses, and wooden benches and arches painted a bright white. The inside was filled with dark, gothic benches, a medium size stage for the choir and the pastor, and dim lights along the grey walls. People I know and don't know were dressed in all dark and depressing shades of black, grey, and blue. Women, weeping, hiding their faces in their gloves and behind fishnet veils. The smell of despair filled my lungs as I took a deep breath. People surrounded my family as soon as we set foot inside of the glum room. Each one of them repeating the same phrase, "I'm sorry for your loss." Few of them telling me, "I know how you feel." None of them know how I feel. Kevin was my brother. My best friend. My hero. I feel like I died with him. Like I'm only a ghost to the world. He was the only one I could trust. The only one who knew me.

After an hour, I had enough. I was tired of people telling me how sorry they were for my loss. I push open the double doors and walk out onto a pebble pathway. I step into someone's footprints imprinted from earlier. I sit on one of the smooth, white benches and pluck petals off of a burgendy English rose. "Minnie?" a familiar voice says from the other side of the bush. I look up and see a man's figure moving towards me. The sun shines so bright behind him, I can't even see his face.  He steps to the side and blocks the sunlight. His short, curly, black hair hangs from his head. His front curls swirl so perfectly and bounce on his forehead as he turns from side to side. His pale green eyes shined under the shadow of the church. His skin,  a light tan. He looked so naturally beautiful in the afternoon sunshine. "James." I say delightfully. The sides of his lips curl into a smile.

"I haven't seen you since the summer before Freshmen year." I tell him. He laughs slightly and holds his hand out to help me out of my seat. "I'm a year older, remember." he says. I take his hand and stand up. He pulls me in for a hug, I refuse. I haven't seen him in two years, no way am I giving him a hug, I think. "Oh yeah." I giggle. "What are you doing here?" he asks. I crease my eyebrows and raise them. "My brother was killed in the war." I say softly. I feel like I'm going to cry again. His eyes are filled with sadness. "Oh," he says quietly. "Are you okay?" He puts his arm over my shoulder and pulls me close to him. So close that I can feel his body warmth. I liked the feeling. I try pulling away, but he only holds me tighter. "I guess," I sigh. "It's just not the same. I don't feel like I'm alive anymore." It was good to get that out. Even to someone who seems like a complete stranger. "That's okay. It's good to feel that way. I can't imagine any other way of reacting after someone that close to you has died." he exclaims. For some strange reason, it calms me. His words are like a smooth, lathern feeling that overwhelms me. It's almost like being covered in butter. "You think so?" I ask. "Yeah. He's your brother, not a distant aunt you've met only once." he answers. He's right. He IS my brother. I love him more than anything.

We walk through the majestic gardens and fountains. He tells me about what has been going on in his life and I tell him about mine. We get to the center of the of the garden. An enormous marble fountain with small cherups carved onto the edges of each bowl. The clear water pouring over the edges of each bowl until it reaches the largest bowl, which sits on the granite tile floor. The church bells begin ringing. "I should be getting back now." I tell him. I pull away from him. "Would you let me take you to the fair?" he calls out as start to run on the orange and yellow pebble path. I stop and turn around. His eyes sparkle as he smiles. "I'd love to." I answer. "Tomorrow night for your birthday then!" he shouts. I already started running again. "Okay!" I  shout back. My feet make a crunch sound as I race through the tiny rocks. James Marter, I think. He was my friend for years until the summer he went steady with Molly Torker. Molly Torker, I think. She always looked so flawless and perfect. Her strong, healthy blonde curls always swirled around her peach colored skin. Her royal blue eyes shined like the ocean. She was beautiful. I knew I could never compete against her. That is, until she moved away last month. She's in New York now. She won't be back. The thought of her never returning made me smile. I finally reach the doors and peek in to see what everyone is doing. They're all sitting in the perfectly set benches, looking up to the stage. I move the the side so I can see who is speaking. I catch a glimpse of my father's dull brown hair and reading glasses. It's almost my turn to give my speech, I think.

I pace back and forth, wheezing. I never wrote a speech. What am I going to say? I don't want to break down and cry because I have nothing to say. I take a deep breath. My father steps off of the stage and my mother walks up. Her voice soft and sorrowful, just like earlier. I tiptoe to the bench where my brothers are sitting. My mother gives a speech about Kevin. All the good times,  bad times, and what it was like raising him. She smiles pathetically and walks off of the stage. I walk onto it. I smile sweetly and  look at my shoes. I click my heels together and sigh nervously. I look up to the familiar and unfamiliar faces in the crowd. The dark colors blend together in a sea of black. "Umm...stop," I blurt out. Everyone's eyebrows raise in shock. They lean forward for an explanation. "Stop saying you're sorry for my loss. What are you sorry about? He fought in the war for our country. He is brave. No one knows how I feel. I lost my brother, best friend, and hero at one time. I don't understand how you've felt the same sorrow and hatred that I do." I preach. Everybody's face was filled with surprise. A few of them smile. A young girl, about ten years old, began clapping. Few others whistle and clap along. I nod and walk back to my brothers. What did I say? What came over me?