The Lies We Tell

Chapter 3

I had no idea what to do at first. My mind was complete and total chaos.

What did you do after someone dies?

I had a basic idea, but I didn't have anything besides Google to help me figure it out. My mom wasn't any help. She was still in bed when I left for school. I'd tried to get her up, but she only asked for the phone. I listened as she tearfully told her boss that her husband had died and she needed the day off to take care of his affairs. It was all I could do to not laugh at her. Take care of his affairs? Right. I knew just by looking at her it would be falling on me.

By the time I had reached school, I almost felt guilty for leaving her alone, but, at the same time, I felt she deserved it.

It only took a couple of minutes for both of my friends to realize there was something wrong. I told them what had happened and they both asked if I was sure I wanted to go to school. I was sure I didn't, but all I told them was that it would be okay. I went through the whole day, unsure of whether I should be there or if I should speak to the principal, explain how my father had died and I needed to be there for my mother.

Eventually, school ended and I raced home. It felt like the day was dragging. All I could think about was whether or not my mom had actually left the bed or not. Hungover or not, she knew she needed to get up. She had things to do!

When I pulled into the driveway and saw that all the curtains were closed and it was dark inside, I knew. I knew she hadn't done anything.

I got out of the car, knowing that my online life was going to suffer. Whatever I did today, it was going to be everything other than filming. My story update was going to be late.

Inside, nothing had been moved. I sighed as I sat my backpack down and made my way to the bedroom. Mom was exactly where I had left her - staring at the ceiling with a blank expression and crust in her eyes that used to be tears. "Mom?" She looked over at me. "Have you made any calls to anyone today?" She shook her head and went back to staring at the ceiling.

Of course not. I grabbed the phone from her bedside table and went into the kitchen. Where did I even start? I pulled out my phone and Googled what needed to be done. There was a helpful website that gave me a step-by-step guide.

Two hours and several calls to family, friends, and my father's job later, I sat back. Despite everything that had happened, I hadn't cried. Not once. Nothing felt real. It was like he was on his way home - except the fact his boss was livid he hadn't shown up before I told him what had happened - and any moment now he was going to walk in the door. What was getting to me right then, though, was the silence.

My parents argued regularly, and I hated when it happened. I was used to taking cover in my room and doing something else to help me ignore it. The one thing I never thought I would ever feel, though, was loneliness. There was something in the silence that made me miss the noise it provided.

The worst part for me about the utter silence was that I had time to think. Why? Because the thoughts that kept coming weren't exactly good. Why hadn't I cried yet? Was I a bad person because of that? Or did thinking about the silence instead of my loss mean I didn't care as much as I should? Was it bad that I felt numb?

During the time it had taken to make the calls, my friends had texted to invite me over to one of their places. In truth, I didn't want to leave my mother alone. I had a bad feeling that something would happen to her if I did.

I checked the clock. Not quite five. I called a funeral home, something I never imagined I would ever have to do. The process took longer than I thought it would since I had no idea what I was doing. Still, I managed to get things settled. The only thing I hadn't done was tell my school. I knew I couldn't tell them myself. My mother would have to do it.