Dear Theodosia: blow us all away (philidosia)

11: Stay

Someone gently knocks on Philip's door.

"Go away," Philip mutters, pulling his covers up over his head.

The person knocks again.

"I said go away!" Philip shouts, sitting up to throw a book at his door.

He collapses onto the bed, sobbing. A moment later his door gently opens and someone sits down on the edge of his bed. Philip doesn't even look up to see who's there.

"Son-" a voice says cautiously.

It's his father. Philip rolls away from him, pulling the covers higher over his head.

"Philip, you should start getting ready, it's almost time for the funeral."

"I'm not going," Philip mutters. He hasn't left his room for a week and isn't planning to, unless it's necessary. He doesn't want to go to the funeral and have to watch all these people to pretend to be sad about Aunt Peggy dying. And he especially doesn't want to see the people who are actually sad.

"Son please-" his father says, pathetically, trying to put an arm around his son. Philip slaps his arm away.

"I said no. Nothing you say to me will make me change my mind. And by the way, Aunt Peggy's death hasn't made me any less mad at you. And don't think that ma has forgiven you either. We only moved back home because she's grieving, not because any of us forgive you."

Philip's father sighs and leaves the room. Finally Philip is alone again.

He gets out of bed and closes the curtains to make it darker in the room, then gets back in bed. Curling up in a fetal position, Philip tries to push all thoughts of Aunt Peggy out of his mind. His stomach tightens up with pain as memories leak through.

He remembers when he was little and him and Angie would go over to her house for a sleepover every Friday. They would play cards and Aunt Peggy would make them plates full of desserts. She would tell them to have as much as they want, just as long as they didn't tell their mother.

Philip remembers her laugh. She had the best laugh. Peggy was always so happy and full of life and now she's just gone. Philip sobs. The memories feel like they're cutting him, tearing him apart from the inside.

"Philip?" A small voice tears him out of his pain. It's Angie.

He sits up and wipes off his face as she sits down next to him on the bed.

"Hey, shouldn't you be getting ready for the funeral?" Philip asks her.

Angie juts out her pointy chin, defiantly, "I won't go without you."

"Angie, you've got to go, you'll regret it if you don't."

"So will you," Angie says, her voice wobbling.  "Philip, I want to go but the truth is-" Angie stops, crying too hard to talk. She takes a deep breath, trying to stop crying, "the truth is, I can't do this without you... and neither can mom. Mom is relying on you right now. While you've been wallowing away in your room, dad has been trying to take care of mom, but she won't let him. Mom can't rely on dad right now Philip, so she needs to rely on you. Please come to the funeral for mom's sake and for my sake."

Philip nods, "okay, fine."

Angie tries to smile, but it's crooked and turns down at the edges. Philip gives her a hug and she cries into his shoulder.

"You should go get ready now, Ange," he tells her.

She nods and leaves the room. Philip gets himself ready then goes down to his mother's room.