Dissapearance

chapter 3

Margo's POV

Grief (noun)- deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone's death.     Synonyms: sorrow, misery, sadness, pain, anguish, distress, agony, torment, affliction, suffering, heartache, heartbreak, woe, angst, mortification, despair, dejection, desolation, despondency.

All of these are just fancy words to describe exactly how I feel, how Amy's parents feel, how her baby cousins feel, how the rest of the school should feel. Even with all of these fancy, elaborate words to describe the terrible emotions that so many feel at her loss, nothing can compare to what it feels like to have really known her, to remember her laugh, to recognize her picture, to acknowledge her many faults. Anyone could hear Amy's tragedy on the news and feel empathy, but no one besides the people who have honestly known her can feel absolute despair at the fact that she is gone. No one except those select few people can feel like they're missing something now with her loss. Standing outside of her parents house, that is what rushes through my chaotic, busy mind. They must feel like absolute hell- I know I do. I've stood outside on this very lawn thousands of times before, but it has never felt so eerie, so heartbreaking. It feels like standing at her gravestone. Just as I am about to turn around and walk away, I hear the front door open. I jump at the sound, scared at the loud noise.

"Wait, Margo!" yells Amy's mother from the porch of their brick suburban home, "Please, come inside. Don't be shy." I slowly turned to face her, flashing a sad, small smile before nodding slightly.

"Okay." I walked up their familiar steps, wanting to cry as I heard the same creaking sound they had made every time anyone stepped on them for more than ten years. I hadn't heard that since Amy's death. She smiled softly, sadness evident in her eyes, as she opened the door wider for me to step inside.

"Thank you," I said quietly as I did so, immediately feeling a huge wave of absolute agony fill my heart at the sight of her homey, brown couch. Reminiscing in all of the fun times we had together on that couch- watching movies, gossiping, dancing, karaoke nights, etc- only made it ten times worse, but I couldn't stop myself. This used to be like a second home for me before Amy's death, but now, it felt so empty and shallow that I hardly recognized it. I heard Amy's mom, otherwise known as Mrs. O'Hair, close the door.

"We have missed your company around here, Margo," she admitted, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder as tears threatened to spill, "it's been very boring here without you and Amy to mix up some trouble as always." She smiled, but it didn't look happy. It looked so sad that I almost started crying myself.

"I've missed you too," I replied so quiet I didn't know if she heard me at first, "and her." I was referring to Amy, but I could never say her name here again. Her mother nodded in agreement, tears glistening in her eyes at the memory of her missing child.

"Come, I actually just made some apple pie," she smiled tightly as she headed to her kitchen, motioning for me to follow her. I obliged, trailing behind her figure as we took a short walk to her homey kitchen, which wasn't that big but got the job done. I smiled at the sight of the familiar circular table by the window in her kitchen. Then, my eyes fell upon Amy's lonesome chair, which had papers and other useless things piled on it now as if to protect anyone besides her from sitting in that sacred spot.

"Take a seat, Margo, don't be shy," assured Mrs. O'Hair from her spot by the refrigerator, fumbling through it to get her beloved pie out. I once again obeyed her orders, sitting down beside Amy's spot solemnly. My eyes once again trailed over the papers stacked on her assigned chair, one word from the papers catching my eyes, divorce council.

I scrunched my eyebrows together in confusion, wondering if what I was reading could really be true. They seemed like the perfect couple, the perfect family, but I guess that was just not true anymore. I would have never thought they would get a divorce, though, especially right after Amy going missing. They seemed so happy together.

"I think it's ready to eat!" Mrs. O'Hair exclaimed as she sat the apple pie down on the table, snapping me from my troublesome thoughts.

"Thank you," I replied, smiling, "your apple pie is always amazing." She handed me a spoon and a plate, grabbing one for herself as well.

"Why, thank you, dear!" she smiled proudly as she sat beside me. We both began to eat the delicious, delectable treat before us in silence until she interrupted it.

"You know, I think we are going to have Amy's funeral this Sunday after all.." she informed me, a certain sadness filling the air around us, "I was hoping you would like to speak since you were so close to her."

"Of course," I agreed, smiling comfortingly at her. Once we finished eating, it was relatively late in the evening, so I excused myself.

"Well, I would love to stay and talk more, but my mom is probably wondering where I am," I made up an excuse, not wishing to be in this house any longer than I had to, "it was nice to talk to you."

"You too, Margo!" she seemed sad to departure but let it happen anyways, "stop by more often. This house is dull without you." I nodded before departing from her back to my own house, feeling a huge weight lifted off my shoulders as soon as I left their lovely, forgotten home.