His hands rush to pick up thin dollar bills leaving small paper cuts on his fingers and I can feel the anxiety seeping off of his body. Sweat collecting into a small bead on his neck as he says something like, "You don't know who my boss is, bitch."...
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I tuck my fingers under my thighs as Oliver sets a cup down on the table beside me. I mouth thank you to him before he goes and mingles with the group of family surrounding him. I was never good in crowds and by crowds I mean groups larger than three. Especially sober.
Sabrina was in the corner with his sister and his girl cousins kissing ass since it's what she does best. I don't know how far that's gonna get you, sis. I sip on a cup of tea, continuing to observe everyone. Oliver and the people around him emulated a sense of longing. It was obvious that many of these people, sibling or not, have lost a mother figure.
Trying not to think too hard about it I continue to sip my tea, contemplating whether the people at my parent's funeral saw me like this. Vaguely lost. Lost in the loss. When my parents died the only thing I thought about was how they'd never see me do anything great like they wanted me to. When they were alive my mind was clouded and I lost goals, hope, relationships. After losing them I found myself, I know they'd finally be proud of me because of that.
I look at Oliver hoping that he grows as well, realizing Sabrina might have been this whole time too. My eyes cross the room back to Sabrina. It's hard to tell, one minute she's the life of the party, the next she's the in-law's favorites. How accustoming for her. I wonder if she still has that anger, that rage. Looking down at the scar on my wrist I touch it running my fingers back and forth over it. I wonder if I've forgiven her yet.
My knee shakes, tapping my heel lightly against the hardwood floors. They were in the living room for the wake and I was off in the kitchen seated at the table politely, quietly. The furniture was dark, rich brown and cream just like I thought someone like Oliver's house would be. Small framed photos cover the wall above the fireplace and panning around the room, there are decorative paintings. A long couch divides the room and an archway leading into the kitchen allows me to snoop better. Few people are seated but many are gathered in large clusters outside and throughout the house.
"Wren right?" I turn and see Tristan coming up from behind me with a drink in his hand.
I smile, "Yeah, you're Oliver's .. younger brother?"
"Yeah." He fidgets, taking a sip. "I didn't know he was going to bring you guys but it's nice meeting you two. I'm flying out for the wedding I can't speak for Eliza or AJ though." I nod. Right all everyone wants to talk about is the wedding.
I look back at Oliver, "That'll be nice, plus at least I won't be around people I've never met before now." I laugh to lighten the tension considering I could tell he was in a somber mood. "So how are you doing?"
He nods his head, "I'm okay," Leaning against the wall, "I took care of her leading up to it so I feel like I prepared myself for it."
