Bitter and Sweeter

Chapter 1 ~ Sandwiches

I lifted my chin and sniffed the air. 

Immediately, the smell of processed chicken nuggets perforated my lungs. To the right of me, I got a whiff of cheap, microwaved salami. To the left, the foul smell of kraft mac and cheese had me stifling a gag.

And yet, only one smell seemed to follow me as I trailed through the airport.

Not even my ridiculously enormous sunglasses could shield me from the very thing that brought me back home after two years.

Death was in the air, and what an interesting scent it was.

...

"How do I feel? You want to know how I feel?" I asked my therapist.

"Yes."

I looked around the small room until my eyes fell upon my red nails. "I feel like my nail artist could've gone with a deeper shade of red for the funeral."

...

I arrived at the ceremony two hours later. As George opened the door for me, I unbuckled my seat belt. I took my clutch in one hand and his hand in the other.

From my view, I could already see the lanky figures gathered around the tombstone.

Looking around, I took in my surroundings. I suppose this was a cute location. The beaming sun illuminated the ornamental colors of the flowers that colored this field of the dead. It looked like they had buried my father under a large cherry blossom tree.

Squeezing George's hand, I tried to walk across the muddy grass without ruining my heels. Halfway to the gathering, the pastor was the first to meet my eyes. I internally rolled my eyes as his tear-filled eyes looked upon me with pity.

Oh boy...

...

"That's what was running through your mind when you arrived at the ceremony?"

I shrugged. "And I was kind of hoping that half of the attendees wouldn't show up. Oh, and the pastor definitely needed a new haircut."

She blinked. "Your father's death. How does that specific thing make you feel?"

"I mean obviously I'm sad about it, I'm not a monster! It's just that I've grieved already, and I don't know about yours, but this mascara cost way too much for it to be dripping down my cheeks."

I checked my watch. Only an eternity left to go.

...

After the pastor noticed me, Angela turned around.

"Jules!" She cried and ran towards me.

I released George's hand and held her. "There, there, Angie, you'll ruin your mascara."

She released me and held my hands.

"Oh, Jules, I've missed you." She used one hand to pull a pink satin napkin from her pocket and blow her nose. She sniffed, "I just can't believe we have to meet under such circumstances."

"Yes, yes." I patted her hand. "Did the pastor finish his preaching?"

"You would know that if you actually showed up on time."

Turning around, I met my eldest sister's bright eyes and looked at her with disdain. "Marion."

Angela nervously squeezed my hand.

"Julian," Marion responded.

I noticed the glass of red wine in her hand. "Already drinking so early in the day?"