(Formerly known as "When Our Paths Crossed")
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A tale of two lost souls brought together by pain, grief and trauma.
Atlas tries to find a place in a world he's worked so hard to escape. Elijah struggles to balance the life he's building and the...
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I STAND IN front of the mirror, scrutinizing the only black suit I owned. It had been so long since I needed to wear a suit that it needed to be altered. Before, my limbs had been a little too long for it. It was just tight enough that breathing threatened to pop every button of the jacket. Now I can actually bend the arms, and when I crouch down, it doesn't feel like I'm cutting the circulation off to my legs.
Today is my brother's funeral, and I am trying to distract myself in every way possible, even right down to analyzing the way my suit looks. I even spent half an hour on my hair, styling it just right so not even a single strand was out of place. It has so much gel in it that if I hit my head it'd bounce.
This kind of meticulousness would drive Dan crazy. It occurs when I'm stressed or have a lot on my mind. Dan used to roll his eyes and tell me to chill, even though we both knew that was easier said than done. Eventually (before he got caught up in drugs), he found ways to help me channel my anxiety into something creative, which is how I got into music. I haven't played piano in a couple of years now, and I haven't found another outlet to channel my energy, so instead, I've reverted to my anxious routines. There's a crease in my suit that refuses to flatten.
"You missed a spot, Eli," Dan snickered, ruffling my hair.
"You're such an ass," I complained, frantically trying to flatten my hair again.
"Elijah, are you almost ready?" my mom asks from downstairs.
Her voice is so sudden it scares me out of my thoughts and I jump.
"Almost!" I squeak, before clearing my throat. I hope she hadn't heard the panic.
I face the mirror again with a frown. The funeral had been postponed a week due to some mix-up with the paperwork or something like that. My parents had dealt with that, and they didn't give a whole of information regarding the situation. Then, because of the state my brother was in, they strongly recommended cremation. Conveniently, Dan had told me once that he wanted to be cremated if he were ever to die.
"And then you have to drive to the ocean and scatter my ashes," he said with a grin.
"Why the ocean? You hate the ocean," I pointed out.
"Because you love it, and it's a good excuse for a road trip. Besides, what's freer than the ocean? But make sure it's in Florida because then you can go to Disneyworld."
We have travelled a lot, but it was mainly for educational purposes, never recreational. Our family travelled to Europe a lot, but when we asked to go to Disneyworld, my mother shook her head and dove into a lecture about how it polluted young minds because of corporate greed and brainwashing kids into believing that life was fantastical and magical. We just wanted to go for the rides, but my parents had been adamantly against it.
Dan was always looking out for me, even in regards to his final wishes.
"Elijah Jeremiah Diggs, we're going to be late!" my mom yells at me, and I roll my eyes.
