"Open casket. Great idea to see." my grandma says sarcastically. She's my dads mom, and she hated my mom. She shunned their marriage the minute it happened. The only reason she is here is because her son died, had it been just my mom, she probably wouldn't show. She's the 'mean grandma' as Vern and I call her. The other grandma is the one that brought us sugary treats behind our backs when we were kids.
I look at her, red eyed and sad, even though I didn't yet cry. Why does she have to be rude and sarcastic at the funeral?
"I thought," I say, tracing my fingers along the mahogany lining of my dad's casket, peering into his half burnt face. "It will give everyone a chance to say goodbye." I'm not looking at her.
"You're disgraceful." she spits. She always liked Vern better. "How can you let people see them ike this?" I let her yell at me because she's just as sad as I am. "That's not my son." her voice cracks, and she pushes me out of the way so that she's the one looking at dad. "This is not my son." she starts crying. I don't know what do to, so I step towards moms coffin. She looks a little better than dad because she had time to heal in the hospital. She looks tired. I feel tired. I feel like I should be next to her. With her. With them.
"I love you mom." I whisper, placing a hand in the casket and stroking her perfect, perfect hair. "I'm sorry Vern couldn't make it. He has work in New York."
"You know," my grandma says behind me. I don't look at her. "You could've saved them before the car burst into flames." I look at her in horror.
"No, I couldn't have." I defend myself. "I-I had to get out." I stutter over my words. "And when I did, I called for help, but it was too late."
Two strange men wheel in another casket, and I step back.
"You belong there." my grandma says. She always liked Vern the best, and I always fail to impress her. I back up more, but am against my mother's casket. I feel a cold hand grab my wrist, and when I look down, I see my mother smiling creepily. "I always liked Vern more. After all, he's the better sibling. He'll always be the better sibling." grandma says.
"Don't worry sweetie, it's not that bad." mom says.
I start panicking. "No, no, it's not like that. I'm not dead!" I say once the men grab my shoulders and lift me up.
"It's your fault. You deserve this." my dad sits up and peers at me through the eyes of his half burnt face.
"No!" I protest when the men stuff me into the coffin. When I'm in, I'm falling and falling and falling, being surrounded only by blackness until my eyes shoot open and I'm in my room.
I sit up quickly, feeling my dry itchy throat. I feel like I'm gonna throw up.
I get out of bed and sprint to the bathroom, where I basically collapse in front of the toilet pot and spill my guts. I make unattractive noises, and one hand is keeping my hair back while the other is gripping the toilet pot.
When I stand up, I don't even look at the contents, I just flush the toilet, and then I make my way to the sink. There's a mirror on top of it, so I can see every inch of my exhausted face.
The dreams have gotten worse lately since the first one. It doesn't help that Vern is out for the week and I'm alone, so I don't get time to confront him about the turtles either.
I brush my teeth, and as I'm doing that, I ingest my bag covered eyes, messy hair in a ponytail, and unusually pale skin. I look nothing like myself.
When I'm done, I go inside and sit on the couch. I stare ahead of me. Just stare. I stare at the fire escape.
The world around me goes quiet, and my brain blasts up to full volume.
If I jump off the fire escape, I won't make it. It's a long way down, and my brain will probably be smashed in.
If I jump off the fire escape, my dreams will stop. My blaming myself will stop. I will be fine. I'll be fine.
There's a knock at my door and I jump a bit. My mind unhinges itself from the idea of jumping off the fire escape and I get up and go to the door.
When I open it, I see Gin, smiling happily.
"Jules." she says and envelopes me in a hug. I don't say anything and I barely return a proper hug.
"Hey, Gin." I greet her. I want to smile, I do, but I can't. So I force my lips into what would hopefully pass as a smile.
She enters and I close the door. "It feels like I haven't seen you in forever, so I just wanna check in. Things have been rough at work, so that should explain my absenteeism." she sits down at one of the bar stools.
I make my way to the other side of the counter. "Want some coffee?" I ask, maintaining the thick, fake, pathetic smile.
"Yeah, sure." Gin places her purse on the other bar stool.
As I'm preparing the coffee, Gin speaks. "I really can't thank you enough."
I raise my brow, my back facing her. "Why's that?"
"Vern and I are really close now. I don't see us romantically anymore, but you could say we're borderline best friends." Gin doesn't hide the excitement in her voice. I half freeze, but then continued making coffee.
Of course. I should've seen this coming. Gin and I aren't even that close, but of course Vern is able to persuade her into an even better friendship with him. After all, everyone likes Vern better. He's the better sibling.
"Jules!" Gin yells, and I'm snapped back into reality. I look down at my hands and feel the pain.
My right hand is soaked in scalding hot water, and I didn't even feel it when it happened.
I take a dish towel and dry it before handing the coffee to Gin. My hand is numb from all the pain, but I say nothing.
"Are you okay?" Gin is worried. I nod my head and swallow, noting that it is painful when I do so.
"Never been better." I lie and sit on a bar stool opposite her. My hand is red, blisters forming. It's screaming for medical attention. Gin eyes my hand.
"Shouldn't you get that patched up?" she tries to touch my hand, but I shoot it back quickly.
"No, it's fine." I retort. I place my hand on my lap so that she can no longer see it.
Gin stares at me weirdly, worriedly, but I don't want her pity. I don't need it. Nobody gets it. Nobody understands.
"Jules, if this is about Vern not being here, and you not being able to handle your parents' death-" Gin starts, but I cut her off.
"It's not. I'm just, in thought. And tired." so, so tired, says my soul. I deepen the fake smile. "Don't worry about me, Ginny." I play the nick name card so that she doesn't get suspicious.
She seems to relax, and sips from her coffee. "Okay." she believes me. "So, my sister is moving to New York in a few weeks. She's staying with me. Her name is Violet."
Gin is speaking, and I'm hearing what she is saying, but don't process it fully because my brain travels. It travels into the deepest corners, the darkest.
"But," Gin says awkwardly, sensing my odd behavior. "I'll see you again some time. Tell Vern I say hey when he gets back tonight." she grabs her purse and leaves. Her half empty mug stands still, a perfectly shaped lipstick arch formed at the rim.
I sit staring at it for hours, and then think about what would happen if I jump off the fire escape.
