Quietly Noticed || Lams

Too sad to funtion

Hamilton|First Person

It's been raining for a while now. A couple of days actually. Rained right through New Year's, all the way up until today. Daniel's funeral. The last Saturday of Christmas break.

The original plan was for me to go home this week and come back to school after the funeral, but John wanted to go with me and my aunt wouldn't necessarily approve of a boyfriend.Especially not one who stayed at her house all week with me. So, I stayed back with John. We sat around and were sad for awhile, watching movies, eating junk food. He got drunk once. I was a little scared, quite frankly. He was angry and yelled and threw his arms and half full bottle around. I made him sleep in the living room and locked the bedroom door.

I haven't been back to my dorm all break, as far as anyone on campus is concerned I went on another trip. I'm thankful for John's apartment though, and he says he's going to get sober so I won't be scared anymore. I just hug him and tell him that I hope he does. I've seen what drink can do to a person. It's not pretty. It's not John.

Twenty minutes before we're supposed to leave and John is still sitting blankly on the end of the bed. I've been dressed for a while now, listening to the rain. I had Lafayette bring some of my clothes to the apartment so I'm dressed in my own suit and tie. John's clothes sit on the back of the chair in the corner of the room where I left them for him last night.

"John?" I ask, sitting down beside him. I know the past couple of week have taken a toll on him. I pick up one of his hands, and roll my shoulder back. It'd been awhile since it stopped hurting, but it had a habit of locking up on occasion. "C'mon baby, it's time to get dressed." He looks at me, his sad eyes drilling into mine. I sigh and go to pick up his clothes for him. I drape them over my arm and pull him to his feet. "Alright, shirt off." He lifts his shirt over his head and drops it to the floor numbly.

I work on getting him into his suit, buttoning up his shirt, tying his tie for him. He manages to get his pants and belt on by himself, but I have to tie his shoes for him. I hand him a hair tie to fix his hair and have to dig through his desk for his car keys. I help him out to the car and sit him in the passenger seat. He's asleep almost immediately, leaving me to drive in silence.

===

The church they're holding the funeral in is old and in off-white paint, faded and dirty from years in the sun. I rub my temples, preparing myself for whatever is left of my family to bombard John and me as soon as we're inside. The former is awake again, sitting up and looking over at me.

"Alex?" He croaks out. His voice sounds weak. He clears his throat and tries again. "Alex, are you ready?" He pulls one of my hands from where it massages my forehead still. I squeeze as best I can, trying to reassure him.

"Yeah..." I look over at him. He looks scared. "Yeah, let's go."

I push myself from the driver's seat and walk around to the front of the car to take his hand and lead him in.

The place is relatively empty for a twenty-something year old who killed himself. There should be a packed crowd here, the whole family, college buddies, coworkers.

Instead, a couple of distant relatives and one or two guys around Daniel's age sit in various places in the first couple of pews.

"Alexander?" I look over my shoulder to see my aunt Margaret with teary eyes and a black shawl. She tiptoes up to us on her kitten heels and pats my shoulder. "Oh, and you must be Daniel's professor." John nods numbly. "How do you know Alex? Do you teach him too?"

"Something like that." John says, releasing my hand that he had been holding tightly.

"We're gonna find a seat, we'll, uh, catch up with you later." My aunt nods solemnly. I wait for her to walk down towards a somewhat familiar lady in a black blazer and dress, then I pick up John's hand again and lead him to a bench in the back of the room. He leans against me, and before we know it there's some priest standing up by a big picture of Daniel during his high school graduation.

We listen to him spew some bullshit about someone he never met, John hiding his face in my shoulder while I rub circles on the back of his hand. Some of the people sitting up front stand and share their fond memories of Daniel that sound nothing like the version of him I knew. I can tell John isn't buying it either, scrunching his face up at the people who stand and tear up over his memory.

We both hold our tongues until the ceremony is over. A couple of men walk up and grab hold of Daniel's coffin, hoisting it out the door and towards a van. The rest of the crowd files out to the parking lot, all of them pulling away to drive after the van. Only my aunt remains at the door when John and I finally make our way towards the exit.

"Alex," she calls as we near her. "Are you and... I'm sorry dear, I didn't catch your name." She looks at John with sympathetic eyes.

"John," he fills in.

"Oh yes, John. Daniel might've mentioned you before. It sounds familiar."

"John isn't exactly an exoctic name," he says under his breath and I have to fight the urge to elbow him.

"What?" My aunt asks, looking dumbfounded.

"Don't worry about. What were you saying?" She furrows her eyebrows at John for a moment before straightening her face out to look at me.

"Well, I was going to ask if you were going to the burial, but I'm not so sure if John would appreciate it." She narrows her eyes at John again who stares at his shoes.

"Please," I beg her. "Please don't be like that. Not today." She crosses her arms and looks at me. Judging.

"Well, would you like to go to Daniel's burial? John?"

"You know what? I think it's best if John and I went home." I wrap my arm around John's shoulders as he keeps his head tilted downward. My aunt squints at us, but I just guide John back to his car, opening his door for him before I sit behind the wheel. I look over at John to see if he's ready, but am met with the sight of tears falling down his cheeks and a red face.

"They hate me," he mutters to his lap. I feel my heart break at his words, and I only want to wipe his tears away and kiss him better. That's not how it works though, this wound is on the inside.

"No, John don't say that." I take his hands and lean into his line of sight. He looks up just a little and stares blankly just below my eyes. "John... Baby, look at me." I set my fingers under his chin and force him to make eye contact. "They don't hate you. We're all emotional, it's been a long week." He nods weakly. "Let's go home and get you in the shower, ok?"

"Ok."

"I love you."

"Love you too."