When He Strangled Her--a story about love

Day 15

It's Sunday.

Cold water is dribbling down my chin as I splash my face to look alive. A face of imperfections stare me back in the mirror-- spotted skin, weary eyes, and pale lips. Perfect.

I rummage my closet for depressing colors which delightfully is in abundance. I pick a few of the darkest shade and head out into the drizzling winter streets. The streets are mucky and soggy and wet dirt is kicked up on my boots as I trod to the cathedral but that's okay, my boots are mauve black anyway, just like my jeans, sweater, coat, umbrella, and even headphones.

"I barely recognized you in black." Tee says as I arrive at the cathedral. His voice is weak but clear and I realize I had no music playing on my headphones this whole time. 

I give a faint smile and go inside where it's warmer.

The room feels spacious. 

I sit down on the third aisle.

The person next to me asks how I know Mrs. Chen.

"The hospital," I say.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." She replies.

I'm not sure what she means.

Tee enters and sits alone on the first aisle. His back is soaked in sorrow with shoulders drooping and back hunching. An old woman taps him on the shoulder and says something. He turns. His long lashes cast a long shadow on where sleep deprivation draws darkness.

The priest begins to say something about God having plans and knowing what's best. I don't really listen. I mutter Amen. Music starts and everyone stands up with the choir for some worship but I don't hear anyone singing.

We sit back down and the priest nods to Tee. Tee steps to the pedestal.

The person next to me mumbles "God bless him."

Tee has a crumbled piece of paper in his hand. He takes a few seconds staring at it. Then he looks to us.

"Thank you all for coming. I know she would be delighted to see every one of you." He takes a deep breath. "For those who don't know me, my name is Tee, and I am Daisy's only son. My mother was a kindhearted, passionate woman who dared to dream. She had a positive energy that endeared everyone that came to know her, and I was fortunate enough to call her mom." He reads.

"She is the strongest person I've ever met." He goes on. "She em...she had a tough life, some of you might know." He looks to us and scrunches the paper to his palms. "She and my father, they ...they adopted me when I was 5. And I wasn't an easy child, growing up in an orphanage till that age, I didn't know how to fit in with a family. But they loved me and cared for me as if I were their's all along. They taught me what was home." He pinches his nose between his eyes.

I hold my breath and do the same.

"She and my father opened a small coffee shop together on the first floor of our home, it was my father's dream. As a kid, I loved it, I thought our house was huge. I later found out that having the whole place as my playground to play hide-and-seek meant business wasn't great, but I would never have guessed. They gave me more than I could ask for and they were always happy. When I grew older and business was better, they donated generously to the orphanage they adopted me in. Mom said the orphanage was God's messenger to Earth, and I was the package, it was time to pay the delivery fee."

Something dips in my chest.  I control my breathing but there's a lump in my airway, a density at the hallow in my ribs and the root of my tongue. I shake off my thoughts to focus and listen.