Liar, Liar

4 - Brooke

"When I was told I had the opportunity to write the eulogy for today, I immediately said no. I thought there was no way I'd be able to speak in front of everyone without bursting into tears. And maybe I was right about that. Maybe, when I'm finished, this piece of paper I'm holding will be soaked in tears. Maybe there will be a puddle around my feet. Maybe my face will go all red, like it usually does when I cry. But it doesn't matter. Because I owe it to them. I owe everything to them.

"My parents, Esther and Robert, meant the world to me. They are the best people I know- knew. Sorry. I'm still getting to used to using past tense. They were the most kind, caring, compassionate, respectful, determined, strong, courageous and loving people I've ever met, and I am so, so proud to be able to say that I am their daughter. 

"Mom was always so supportive. In everything I did. She'd be there at every sports game, music recital, drama performance, spelling bee, bake sale, awards night, hockey practise, birthday party and everything in between. She'd just always be there. No matter what. I will never be able to thank her enough for that. 

"And Dad... heh, Dad was such a clown. If I'd had a rough day at school, he'd be the first to make me laugh. I could never quite put my finger on it, but there was always just something about him that could put a smile on my face- on anyone's face- after even the worst of days. Dad taught me to always look on the bright side of life. That no matter how bad things seem to get, there will always be someone, somewhere who's got it worse. He's taught me to be grateful for the life I have, the opportunities I've been given, and make the most out of every day.

"I wish more than anything that I could have just one more day with them. Just one more chance to tell them how much I love appreciate everything they've done for me. Mom, Dad, if you can hear me, if you're listening from somewhere up in the sky, just know that even after you're bodies are lowered into the ground and everyone goes on with their lives, you will not be forgotten. You are unforgettable."

The room is silent. I look down and notice a puddle beneath me. Go figure.

I step down from the lectern and walk toward the two coffins that lay before me. They're like magnets. The closer I get, the more tears that are drawn from my eyes.

Just hold on. Just hold on.

I reach out my hands and run them over the smooth wooden boxes - the ones that hold the most precious people in my life. My knees go weak and my legs start to shake. It's almost as if the world's trying to pull me down with my parents, six feet under. 

I close my eyes and whisper goodbye.

***

The squeal of the cab's tyres is what wakes me. I look out, beyond the rain-streaked window, and see the one thing I fear most: change.

As I unload my luggage, I stare up at Lorraine Deschamps' extravagant residence.

A house is made of walls and beams. A home is made of hopes and dreams.

I think about this quote whilst trying to digest what's in front of me, and have decided that, if it spoke any truth, this house is definitely not a home. 

I push the doorbell in and hold my breath.

Lorraine Deschamps is my grandmother. But I'm not allowed to call her that. It's not like I'd want to anyway, though. She's practically a stranger to me. Over the course of my seventeen years, I've met Lorraine once. It was when I was little, so I don't remember it, but apparently we went to her second- no, third wedding. She's had another two marriages since then, but I didn't go to them. Or either of the parties she threw after the divorces.

At first when I heard she had offered to take me in I was totally gobsmacked, until I got a phone call from her. In summary, she told me the only reason she's agreed to house me is because it'd hurt her reputation if people knew someone blood-related to her was living in a foster home or orphanage. Also, as I'm turning eighteen in a few months, I won't be her problem for very long.

The sound of heels against marble snaps me out of my daze and sends shivers down my spine. The door barely makes a sound as it opens.

"Esther?" she asks, squinting in my direction. I wince at the sound of her name. Far too soon.

"Um, no. It's her daughter, Brooke." 

"Oh, yes. Of course. My apologies. You just look so similar. I forgot for a minute there that Esther's dead. At my age, it's easy to forget things."

How can someone be so inconsiderate?

"Y-yes. She is." I swallow and squeeze my eyes shut. "So is my father, as you know. The funeral was this morning."

"Yes, I know. That's why you're here, obviously. As for the funeral, I didn't go." After unlocking the gate, Lorraine turns and heads inside, her perfect grey curls bouncing around her shoulders. "The maid will show you to your room," she calls. I stare at the slender figure, dressed all in white, as it slinks away into the bunch of walls and beams it had emerged from not a moment ago.

This is going to be hell.

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