Collision Course

Chapter 21: Three Days

A/N: Quick note. Max says something later that some people might take as sexist but I swear I am not trying to make it as such. She is trying to lighten the mood, not be a jerk. Song is Not About Angels by Birdy

Days had gone by so quickly in such a short span of time. All of it was just a blur of mixed emotions, hours spent trying to figure out how to feel about everything that's happened. Most of the conversations that I had with others were lost to me. There was no recollection in my mind when they had happened or if they even did. People were just smeared colors, sounds were nothing more than vibrations, days and nights passed like a flipping coin.

When Wes had told me what had happened, when he broke down into sobs in my arms, all I remember feeling was an aching numbness spreading from my chest down to my toes. I remember a single tear falling down my face at the mention of Nana. Trying to conceal my sadness, I buried my face into Wes' shoulder, hoping he wouldn't catch my shallow breathing. I waited until the boy in my arms fell asleep as such before resting him gently against the pillows, leaving a small note, and walking out like I was never there.

I arrived home later than normal which rose questions from my mother who had dinner cooked and ready to eat. After explaining the situation to her, the dinner was left uneaten. We both went to bed that night with empty stomachs and heavy hearts. The next few days were the same. Light meals, few conversations, and solemn expressions.

Upon telling Mike the news, he promptly stopped talking and shut down the a machine without power. It was like looking at a walking corpse; we both were like that. The others were cautious around us, only speaking in hushed whispers or throwing us side glances like we were ticking time bombs. But our reactions were nothing compared to Wes.

On Saturday, I was sitting in my room just watching the sky begin to cloud over in a dull gray like a soft blanket of sorrow. The kids across the street began to file inside, their parents gesturing for them to hurry in before rain started to pour. Wind shook the branches of the trees that littered each person's yard, blowing the leaves in a flurry of greens. Eventually the sun disappeared behind the shield, awaiting its time to bring the joy of spring again.

It was after the last golden rays became hidden behind a symbol of despair and sorrow that I received a message from a number that was not in my contacts. At first, I was tempted to leave the black rectangle alone and continue to bask in the pain that had travelled from one friend to another. But when I received a second notification I decided that whomever it was that was attempting to reach me obviously had something important to say. Looking at the message I found my heart clenching and numbness beginning to take over.

1(778)-899-7689: This is Sarah Jones. I thought you would like to know that the funeral for Nana is Monday at Saint Paul's Church. Guests are arriving at 11:00 am for the procession to begin at 11:30. If you can attend, please let me know.