the closet

When the news of my dad's passing came to me, I felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest. As morbid as it sounds, I felt relieved. I got the call at about one in the morning on a Tuesday. I remember because I had work the next day, and I wondered why in the hell someone was calling me so late. My aunt Vicky was on the other end, which confused me even more considering we hadn't spoken in over ten years. How had she even found my number?

            "Asher, your father just died." She spoke softly.

            I remember the feeling of my body going numb. It almost felt like I was floating. My brain couldn't comprehend the fact that my father, the man who was the reason I had been kicked from my own family, was dead. And he wasn't coming back.

            "Babe, what's wrong?" My fiancé, Ezra, rolled over to ask me. His curly red hair was a complete mess and he had crust in the corner of his eyes, but he somehow managed to look attractive.

            I couldn't answer him. The words couldn't leave my mouth. My ears were ringing, the faint sound of my aunt asking if I was okay in the background. I set the phone down, stood up from the bed, and went to the bathroom. I leaned over the toilet and threw up. My brain was running at a million miles a minute and my body was shaking uncontrollably. My lungs felt like they were on fire, like I was drowning on oxygen.

            Ezra came into the bathroom slowly, cutting the light on. He was holding the phone in his hand, as if he'd just hung up with someone. He crouched beside of me by the toilet and put a hand through my hair. I felt like I was truly dying.

            After I got calmed down and sat back on the bed, Ezra put his hand on my back. He spoke quietly as he began tracing circles. "Your aunt said that the funeral would be on Friday, and that's when they would go over the will. If you don't want to go, I get it. She said you didn't have to go, but you were welcome if you wanted to."

            I shook my head. There was no way in hell I was going to that funeral, and there was no way I was going back to sleep. We both crawled back into the bed, Ezra pulling the sheets over the both of us. He held me in his arms, knowing that usually put me to sleep, but tonight was different.

            A couple of days passed, and it was the day of the funeral. While sitting at my desk, trying to edit a paper, I glanced up at the clock. Three o'clock. Dad's funeral was almost over. I shook it off and looked back down at the paper. My mind was far away from finding grammatical errors in someone's future book. As I read, images of my father's body in a casket went through my mind. I closed my eyes and tried to think of something else, anything else. Like changing a channel, my mind flashed to my father holding his belt high above his head and—

            "How's that paper coming along?" My supervisor, Emily, came around the corner to ask. Her bright personality accentuated her features, making her bright blue eyes and long blonde hair almost shine. She always had a polite attitude, which made me like her even more than I already did.

            "Um, it's coming." I laughed nervously, hoping she wouldn't question me any further. I prayed to whatever God was out there that she would just leave.

            "Okay, let me know when you're finished and just put it on my desk. Also, let me know what you want for lunch and we'll all go out to eat." She told me, leaving my office just as quick as she'd come in.

            After about an hour of trying to revise the paper, I gave up and put my head on my desk. I wasn't in the right headspace to be doing any kind of work today. My brain felt like it was pounding against my skull, and my vision was going blurry. I hadn't had a migraine like that in years.