Shards

Who else would it be?

Calm. 

That's how I feel when I clean out Angelo's room a few weeks after the police searched it. I'm letting go of him, letting go of him physically at least. Of course, neither me or my mom could bear just throwing out all of his stuff like it's nothing. We each get a small box of things to keep in his memory. Why would we need objects to keep his memory? He was a brother and son for nineteen years, isn't that enough? 

I know that I don't seem very calm, but my mind is blank. I zone out, forcing myself to think of other things besides him. It's easier than I though, honestly. Why haven't I tried doing this before? This is great man. I don't need to think about him to live. 

I don't know why but after that night with Maurice, I haven't cared. I haven't had a breakdown, I haven't cried, I haven't even stepped into Angelo's room until now. Even when the police were asking me questions, I tuned out myself. I tuned out my voice, my thoughts, my body. I wasn't there, it was...Nice. To say the very least

Kylie, who has been helping us silently for the past few hours, pulls me aside into my own room. I smile at her, momentarily forgetting about the fight we had. We haven't spoken since. We didn't talk for a month after Angelo died, and then we didn't talk after a month when my perception of Angelo died and now we're talking while his room dies. I'm beginning to notice a pattern here. 

"Hey. You okay Nat?" Kylie's soft voice is always nice, whether she's mad at me or not. "I know this must be really hard-"

"I'm fine." I say, smiling. I know it doesn't reach my eyes, because I'm fine but not okay. I'm not happy, I'm just not sad. I'm just calm. It's a different kind of apathy.  

"Nat-" Kylie begins but I cut her off again.

"Kylie." She doesn't say anything she just walks back into the room without another glance back at me. Did I make her mad? Should I have listened to her? 

When we're done cleaning out the room, I sit down on my bed, sinking into it as my mother silently hides away in her own room. Deep breath, Natalie. His room is gone. He's gone. You don't have to worry about anything anymore, you'll never have to think of him again. You'll never have see him again. It's almost as if he never existed. 

He did exist. I know that he existed. I have a box of proof that he existed. He existed in my mind. 

That's enough for me. 

Sitting on my bed, I see yellow paper out of the corner of my eye. 

The manila folder I grabbed from underneath Angelo's bed, I remember that I never opened it. 

I should probably go down to the station and give them the folder. It might have something important to their investigation. 

I guess I forgot to open it when I first found it and I was too busy to after meeting with Maurice that day. It's just been...Sitting there on my desk. Do I want to know what's in it? It's only going to make me upset, I know that. Is it worth creating a bigger mess for myself?  I can't hide the fact that I'm curious, that I even though I know that it was a gang and that Angelo was in it for the money, that he didn't keep his end of a deal and he was killed. I find peace in knowing how he actually died. It still doesn't complete me, though. 

Ultimatly, I decide it isn't worth it. I have to stop myself from reaching out and grabbing it, reaching out and grabbing him in a way. Something that could answer my last question. 

Why?

Everyone has explained it away as a money thing. Mom was meeting ends meet, Angelo and I weren't getting much out of our crappy jobs. They said he was trying to just make a little more money for the family. 

I, of course, know that that isn't true.

Mom has only been slipping up on the bills since Angelo died, and me and Angelo both were working almost full time jobs since we got out of highschool. It wasn't a money problem. I know that. Logically, of course, it wouldn't be.