AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“So, you’re saying you’re happy?” She asked.
“Happy isn’t the right word.” I think about the wrongness of that word. Nothing about thinking about her had ever been related to happiness. There wasn’t a single memory of her that made me happy.
I didn’t remember a lot about my childhood. My clearest memory of when my parents were still together, and the earliest memory I had, I remembered I had been sent to my room. I think I did something wrong. What it was is completely lost to me. I remember hearing them argue downstairs. I didn’t understand exactly what they were talking about, but I knew somehow that they were arguing about me.
“What word would you use?” Mrs. Tupp asked, pulling me out of the memory.
I had been thinking about my past a lot since I got the call. It wasn’t like before, where I would lose myself in the past and have to be forcibly pulled back with careful touches and practiced words. It was like I was finally examining it, like I was a scientist, unafraid of what I would find. “I would call it, relief? No. I would call it inevitability.”
“Can you explain further?”
“I always knew she would be gone. I had hoped for it at my darkest moments. But before she died, just a few days ago, I told her she wouldn’t hurt me again. And even if she hadn’t died, I already knew that was true. She was never going to touch me again and now she never will. It was inevitable that I would have to face these emotions. But I’m not going to let her haunt me. I already decided I was done with her.”
“I’m glad you were able to stand up to her,” Mrs. Tupps said, smiling in a way that was both happy and sad.
“Thanks,” I said a little lamely, not sure what else to say.
“How was the funeral?” She asked.
The funeral. “Well…” I began.
***
“Are you sure we should go?” Lydia asked, adjusting my black tie.
“No,” I admitted. “But my father asked me to go. I don’t think he wants to be there alone.”
She pressed her mouth into a thin line and began dusting off my suit of any lint she could see. I thought she had brushed at nothing quite a few times.
“You don’t have to come Lydia. You don’t owe anyone there anything. My father will be fine if it’s just me,” I said, taking her hand. She paused her ministrations.
“Oh, I’m going,” she stated, putting her other arm around me and pulling me in to her. “I don’t owe them, but I made a promise to you. I’m going to be there for you. If your grandfather tries to start something, he’s going to have to deal with me too.” She had a look in her eye that told me she was serious.
“You’d make a scene at a funeral for me?”
“Oh, I’d make a scene anywhere for you, Taylor,” she said with a wink.
It was weird. Even though we were about to leave for the funeral, I didn’t feel any tension like when I had visited her only two days before. I didn’t feel sad. I didn’t feel much of anything. I was ready to be there, stone faced, ready to receive condolences from distant family. I wasn’t going to announce to all these people who didn’t really know her about what she did to me. It felt pointless. If anything, it would just make her more memorable. I wanted her to fade into distant memory. But if my grandfather tried to blame me, I was ready and so was Lydia to make sure everyone knew what she did and how he had turned a blind eye. Our relatives all still loved Ikari, although it was probably everything to do with his money. If they didn’t believe us if it came to that; I couldn’t bring myself to care. They weren’t my family.
The funeral was organized impressively quickly. Probably helped by my grandfather throwing money around. The hall where it took place was filled with bunches of flowers.
I didn’t approach the casket when everyone else lined up. I didn’t care how it looked. The other guests could assumewhatever they wanted. Because I didn’t, I never found out how she died. I don’t think I’ll ever ask. She ended it like she did everything: hoping to hurt me. But her death didn’t fill me with guilt. She failed.
My father and Carol were the only ones who said more than a passing “sorry for your loss”.
“How are you feeling?” My dad asked.
“I’m fine,” I said. “How about you?”
“I wish I had a straight answer too to tell you.” He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand how I feel.”
I saw Carol squeeze his hand. I knew my father would be fine.
My grandfather did not get within ten feet of me the entire service. Good.
The viewing was over. Next, they would be taking her casket to be buried on the family plot. On the car ride over to the graveyard, I noticed how quiet Lydia was being. On the way to the funeral she carried the conversations like she usually did, but now she was silent.
“Are you good?” I asked.
