Empathy

Chapter One

There are too many people here. And yet, there's hardly anyone here at all. They were only here for the rest of my family, not my sister, not my mom, and most certainly not me. They were only here to soothe their own guilt for not being there for my dad.

I blew a strand of hair out of my face, that one irritating strand that has been the bane of my existence for the last sixteen years.

A woman I've never even seen before came up to me, her eyes bloodshot and face blotchy from recent tears. She had make up caked to her face, as if it were a second skin. Her clothes a very dark shade of black, something I didn't even know was possible.

"Dearest Marvel, I'm so sorry for your loss. Nathan was such a charming young man," she sniffled. A choked sound came deep from her throat. I was afraid she would start to puke up the snot running down her throat from all the crying. "I- I can't even imagine what you must be feeling."

I felt white hot anger for a moment. What gave this woman a reason to cry? She didn't know my dad, not like I did. She had absolue no right to do any of it, to grieve.

I put on my most sincere smile, the most polite I can get with people like this. "Thank you for your condolences," I commented. "I'm sure Dad would have loved to hear that." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom talking to a line of Dad's relatives, her bright blue eyes shifting between them, obviously uncomfortable with them all lining up to meet with her.

Looking back at the woman in front of me, I said, "Excuse me." I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

I walked out of the room, away from the crowd, away from the people, away from the sympathy, away from the sadness. Just simply away.

The hallway of the funeral home was empty, thankfully. No one to bother me and no one to care about my well being. I leaned against one of the walls, feeling the fight leave my body with a flicker.

Reaching up, I clutched the ring around my neck and let my thoughts wander.

"Come on, Vel, you can't tell me that you're not the least bit excited about the last book of "The Darkest Night" series. You've been looking forward to the ending for years. It was all you ever talked about since you were ten," my dad, Nathan, told me as he drove his 2014 Subaru Outback to our favorite bookstore,The Heathen.

I looked back at him from the passenger side window, my eyebrow raised. "Yeah, I know. The wild imagination of a young teenager is all anyone can think about," I retorted, scoffing.

He snorted. Looking closely enough, I could see that the afternoon sun made his skin look more caramel than ever. "Sweetheart, your imagination is fine. It's what makes you unique. And I like my girls to be unique."

"Is that why you named me Marvel? Because I am a marvel?" I questioned. He glanced over at me, looking away from the road for just a minute.

"Marvel is a beautiful name. We've told you countless times that it means "miracle" in French." I've heard all this before. Nothing new in the "why did you name me this?" department. "It's also a word used to mean that someone is astonishing," Dad explained slowly. "And you were very astonishing, Vel. Still are. You're unique with your name, but also how you make people feel. You make them feel important and wanted."

I looked down at my lap, taking in the words. As a daughter, I knew it was a father's job to make them feel better with some cliche words. Only this didn't feel cliche, not how it usually was for other fathers and daughters.

The rest of the car ride was silent, save for the radio playing in the background. The white noise was perfect to keep me grounded and away from my overwhelming and very active imagination.