Present

8.1

Audrey

My alarm went off and I rolled over, slamming the snooze button. The sun streamed through the window, making its home right in the middle of my face. So much for going back to sleep. A wave of nausea rushed over me as I regained consciousness. My brain scanned through the last couple of days' memories. I was here, at my parents house. And today, Gwen would be put in the ground.

I tried to push the thoughts from my mind. It was a normal day. It had to be a normal day. I would get up and go home from this weekend visit and she would be there. I shoved the teal comforter away and sat up. I ran my fingers through my hair, snagging on matted, oily knots. I couldn't remember the last time I showered. A knock on my bedroom door broke the silence and startled me.

"Come in," I tried to say, but Mom was already opening the door. She crossed the room and sat on the corner of my twin sized bed.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

I shrugged. It was a loaded question that I wasn't sure how to answer while still holding my composure. I sat there, waiting for her to speak again. My silence made it clear that today was not the day she would get any deeper than surface level. I wasn't even sure I was able to.

"The viewing is in a couple of hours, I thought it would be best that we make an appearance before going to the funeral itself. If we time it just right, we won't be at the viewing for very long."

"Okay," I said slowly. "I don't think her parents know." That was a lie. I knew her parents didn't know. They were already grieving a child, best to not make it worse by informing them that they never even really knew her.

"They won't have to, we'll be careful," Mom smiled warmly. She knew that not all parents were as accepting as mine were, even if we were only getting along because I was the walking definition of tragedy.

I nodded. "I think I need to shower," I said quietly. I didn't have to look in the mirror to tell that my hair was oily and tangled. I tried to recall the last time I even bathed. I couldn't. When was the last time I was even conscious for long enough to do so? Not since that day. Mom gave my arm one final squeeze before leaving the room.

I gathered a change of clothes; just an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I would have to stop at the apartment this evening to find something more formal to wear. My mind wandered to the apartment, the act of going home and a surge of panic washed over me. It was the one place I didn't want to be. How could I go there, when she can't? How was I ever supposed to go back to going to class? Everyone there would know what happened and I didnt want to stare and their faces full of pity. I wanted to run off and start my life somewhere new, where no one would know what happened, where no one could ask me how I was feeling.

Maybe I would just get lucky and find an old dress from high school in my closet. Maybe I would get a letter saying a distant uncle passed away and left me his house and money and I really would get a fresh start.