Socially Awkward

Chapter 5:

Days have gone by since Oscar's death. We weren't that close to begin with so I'm still not sure why it's hitting me so hard.

Maybe it's the fact that I yelled at him when I last saw him or maybe it's the fact that he's had such strong feelings for me for such a long time and I've never noticed. Then again, I probably wouldn't have returned them anyway.

Lately, I've been doing the same thing: thinking, dwelling, blaming, suffering, crying, and slowly- recovering.

I don't want to be that girl that cries in a corner all day drowning on the sympathy of others. I never liked attention and I don't think I ever will which is why I need to pull myself together and get through this.

Everyone keeps telling me to stay strong, but they don't realize that in order for me to stay strong, I need to get there.

Little by little I've been communicating with everyone in the house. Everyone and everything's been so quiet because of me and I'm ready for things to go back to normal. I have to fight my self-pity and get over Oscar's suicide. It was his choice-not mine.

As I repeat motivational speeches in my head, I feel my body cooperating with the positivity of my mind.
It's hard, but I manage to get out of bed. I avoid looking in the mirror in case it brings me down from my suddenly uplifting psychological state.
I slide on my fluffy white robe and matching slippers and take baby steps down my long stair case.

I take my time going down each step. When I reach the last one, dark thoughts taunt and tempt me to turn back around.

"Charles, she's in great pain." I overhear my mother. "We can't just force her to go back to school. She's not ready!"

"The only way she'll get through this is if she distracts herself in her work." He argues with her in a hushed whisper

I put an end to the madness by stepping onto the tiled floor and walking into the kitchen. Then I fake what I hope is a smile.

"Luna? You're--You're up?" Surprise is evident in my mother's voice.

I nod my head and search the refrigerator for orange juice.

"Are you alright? Are you hungry? Thirsty?" My dad questions me.

I remove a carton of juice from the refrigerator and shut its doors behind me.

"I'll be fine." I say, purposely speaking in a future tense.

Someday, I'll be fine.

"That's good to hear. So..." My mother stands across the island so she can face me. "I hope this isn't too soon, but Mr. and Mrs. Melville wanted me to ask you if you were coming to the funeral. It would mean the world to them Luna."

I pour myself a glass of juice and take a sip before replying to her. "Sure."

Her face lights up. "Great." By her big smile, I can tell she's content with my decision. "I'll uh-- I'll call the Melville's later then."

I nod my head and she reaches across the island and grabs my hand. "You're very brave, honey. I'm so proud of you, honey. You know that right?"

I shrug my shoulders, not really knowing how to respond to her.

"Well, I'd better go or I'll be late for work." My dad announces.

He gives my mom a kiss and gives my hand a comforting squeeze before taking his suit case and heading out the door.

"I'm going to go take a nap if you need me." She tells me.

"You're not going to work?" I ask her.

She shakes her head at me. "No, I've given up on that silly old promotion. I realized I wouldn't have time to take care of you and Rosie if I had gotten it anyway."

My heart sinks at her loss of hope. She's lying to me. She's wanted that promotion more than anything.

My mother gives me a weak, tired smile before leaving the kitchen.

I rest my face in my hands and sigh. I can't help but feel like I'm ruining everyone's life.

"Luna."

I jump at the sudden voice.

"Rosie? What the hell are you doing here?"

She shrugs her shoulders at me. "I convinced mom to let me stay home."

I chug the last of my juice and nod my head, not really caring.

I wait for her to go away, but she doesn't.

"Can I help you?"

"I don't get it." She says.

"You don't get what?" I ask.

"You keep saying you're fine when clearly you're not. So why are you lying?" She pushes me.

"I don't know I--hey, mind you're own business." I warn her.

She backs off, "Alright don't tell me."
As she walks away, I can't fight the urge not to tell her everything.

"Wait."

She stops and turns around to face me.

"Remember when Uncle Steve died and everyone was really sad, but we all kept saying we were fine?" I ask her.

She pauses and shakes her head at me.

I then remember that she was too young to remember our uncle's funeral.
"Well, you were there, but you were too young to remember. Anyway, you already know that when people die, it's a sad thing. People say they're fine for two reasons. The first reason is to make sure other people don't worry about them. The second reason is that if we say we're fine to ourselves enough times, we'll learn to believe it."

She cocks her head to the side. "Wait, who died?"

I sigh, "A friend of mine."

"Boy or girl?"

"Boy."

"Oh. Did you love him?" She nosily asks me.

It takes me a few seconds to answer her, "I cared for him as a friend... I suppose."

"But you're going to miss him" She states.

I weakly smile at her, "Yeah, I'll miss him a lot--way more than I ever thought I would."

"Were you this sad when Uncle Steve died?"

"No, not even close. Mom and dad obviously had it worse because they knew him better."

"They got over his death." She says with question in her tone.

I raise a brow at her, unsure where's she's going with all this. "Yeah, I mean you have to move on with your life even when someone else's has ended."

"So why can't you stop being sad and move on right now?"

Rosie's words are incredibly wise. I almost believe it's intentional. It's a shame that a thirteen year old has to snap me out of my unhealthy mental state.

"You know what? You're right Rosie." I say through a genuine smile.

She smiles back at me, "I'm a lot smarter than you think."

I laugh and it feels great.

It's been days since if I heard the sound of my own laughter. I almost forget that I even know how to laugh. I feel a change within myself.

It's comforting to know that even though I have the tendency to fall harder than most, I seem to manage to find the strength to get back up again.