Crescent (Under Major Rewrite!)

Chapter 1

Fog illuminates a rising spring sun behind the line of houses in my neighborhood. My eyes glance over the street of cookie cutter homes. The garden next door is in full bloom with fresh flowers and trees ready to ripen into delicious fruit. In a driveway down the street, shadowed in the morning light, two cars reverse one after the other as the couple commutes to their prospective jobs in the city. I stand at my window, lost in memories of block parties and barbeques, of family picnics and grinning until my face hurt. The world stops for a while.

"Ariel, time to go." Jordan, my older brother, brings me back from memory lane. No more block parties, no more barbeques, and no more family picnics.

I exhale the crisp morning air pinching my lungs, wishing to stay stuck in my trance. I pause to look around my small room for a moment. It doesn't look like much at all. It's the smallest room considering my father and other brother, Greg, built it. Our house wasn't built for three growing children and the family have the money to buy a new one when mom found out she was pregnant with me. The room is built within the attic, making the angle of the walls odd in some places. White wood paneling lines the walls separated by dark wood trim. The hardwood floors are creaky and smooth, making them impossible to walk on with socks. Two large bay windows mirror each other along the width of the house, one with a nice bed filled with various pillows and blankets for me to relax and read on. My bed is a small queen, one side covered in various objects I like to have on hand while the other has a nice dent where I sleep. A tall wooden dresser and mirror bureau match the dark wood night stand against the taller wall and a small pink bookshelf rests perfectly between the tilted wall and the window bed. As much as I dislike the color pink, there are too many books I would have nowhere to store if I attempted to paint it.

Having already dressed and readied myself for this day. I take one last look at myself in the mirror. My outfit for the day is a very simple black dress falling to my knees, cinched at the waist with a scooped neckline. To be safe in the unpredictable spring weather, I trudge on a pair of nude pantie hose and very little makeup. Mom picked it out for me a couple months ago, telling me a girl always has to have a LBD in their wardrobe for special occasions. I just wish the first time I'm wearing it wasn't her funeral.

My heart tightens at the thought. I had avoided remembering all morning, but now I have to face the music. No matter how much it tears me apart.

Jordan is waiting on the foot of the stairs with Greg, his twin. Neither of them say a word to me, both solomon in their expressions. They look too grown up in their dress clothes. Too professional as if they can't show their own sadness. Too much for two 18 year olds. I can't even think about how much it is for me, I'm barely 15. Sophomore in high school as opposed to their senior status. I walk with them out the front door and follow the stone path to the Saturn Sky parked in the driveway. Normally we ride in the Nissan Altima, mom's car, but it's not in the driveway. Without a word, I slide in the back, Jordan in the passenger seat, and Greg drives to the church. Her car is in her usual parking spot like it was every Sunday morning. She would be inside singing and smiling and praying. I regret not offering to go with her even though I don't believe in the religion. It would have been more time spent with her. More time to hear her sing, see her laugh, maybe her passion would have comforted me knowing she's somewhere safe and happy.

Greg parks and abandons the car quickly. Normally he would beg dad to let him drive the car, but today it's just another reminder. One we all can't be quick enough to get rid of. In a line, we all enter the church and my eyes search for my father. He left silently before all of us this morning to get everything ready. With all the people packed into pews, I can't find him. I take a closer look at the people and realize I don't recognize a single face. Who are all these people attending my mother's funeral? What gives them the right to be here?