The Rising - Ennead 2

Scene 14.1 - Two Funerals and No Wedding

....wondering if I really tried everything I could
not knowing if I should try a little harder...

Sad song

May Gaines

I'm empty. The days are passing by and the only thing I want to do is hold on to every moment that slips past. Perhaps if I can hold time still, then I can be strong enough to turn it back, change the past. Maybe.

The only thing that breaks the silence in our... my room... is the sound of raindrops. They whisper secrets that I can't grasp as they kiss the streets outside.

The first bite of autumn has begun but I shut of the radiator. It seems terribly frivolous now. I don't need warmth, or people, or even my thoughts. I need my sister, and she's gone.

It's been a week, or perhaps more. I'm not counting. I'm not even sure if its day or night, my cycles are messed up. My phone has been on airplane mode. Maybe I'll turn it on in a minute, maybe I'll not.

Someone knocks on the door.

"May?"

It's my dad. I hear him talking to someone else outside. Perhaps it's Avril. She flew over from France a couple of days ago and tried to talk me out of my room. She lost me when she said she 'understood what I was going through'. I haven't spoken to her since.

Daddy and Avril give up after a few minutes. I'm sure they've left food outside. It's going to get awfully cold and lonely. June and August used to be only ones who did any good cooking around here. Besides, food isn't high on my comfort list right now.

After a moment alone with grief, I fish through the mess on my bed - I'm beginning to wonder how I even find space to sleep with all the trash on it. After a bit of searching I find what I'm looking for: an mp3 player – August's. I like to think she's still alive. There has to be a limit to rotten fate, right?

I put the earbuds in and return to the window seat. August has an odd taste in music, but it's comforting now. I miss her. I miss June. I miss normal. I would cry right now, but I'm out of tears.

I'm tired of listening to grief so I shut my eyes and listen to the music instead. June's blankie might be smelling a bit stale, but it still holds her memory. I hold it close as I settle into the music.

CLINK CLINK

The sound of silverware tingling – a spoon in a ceramic mug to be precise. The aroma is unmistakable.

"You should really stop doing that," I tell him, "they'll find out what you are."

My voice is groggy, I haven't spoken to anyone in God knows how long. The intruder is unrepentant.

"It's the only way to make sure you take something." His flowery accent is firm, unyielding. "I brought you hot chocolate."

"Besides," he continues as he sits on the corner of my bed, "my inability to do this, that night... to do more. I could have saved more lives."

I pop my earbuds out and look at him. He can't be serious.

"You have no right to say that Carlos. I would be dead if it wasn't for you..."

His brow rises, "You should say the same Miss Gaines. People owe their lives to you. Like I said before. I can't pretend to understand how you feel. The pain, it is crippling. We owe it to the dead to live."

I ignore his words and turn to peek at what's beyond my drapes. He's right. I saw him cry after his friend died, the girl who called herself The Spider. It's not the same though. I lost June.