Muse [18+] • REVISING

37 | Flux

D A M I E N

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It was as detached as people say it is.

People wearing all black, overcast weather, and the little cries here and there coming from people who only showed up to make themselves look good like they were important to the woman lying in the lavender grey casket. After throwing the last white rose into the six-foot deep hole, everyone disappeared to the reception that Cordelia and Nicolas had taken care of. I stayed, leaning against an oak tree, watching as they filled my mother's new home up with dirt.

Although the wind had doubled, the cold hitting my face now and then, I remained at my post and waited until they filled the plot completely. It seemed silly, but I wanted to know that she was going to be okay. That no one could touch her as she rested. I wasn't even concerned entirely with the way the funeral went, as long as she was resting as she had wanted so badly for these past couple of years. My mother needed sleep.

Sticking my hands into the pockets of my slacks, I lifted a chin to the graveyard attendants as a thank you for taking care of her. Weaving through the graves of others, I dwelled on the fact that I hadn't said a word about her at the podium. Nicolas filled in for me as the model child, telling a crowd of strangers how selfless Amelia had been for taking him in. I was grateful for Nicolas, he made everything easier to digest, even if it wasn't fully the truth.

After Alexandre showed up, I spent the rest of last night, going through a whole ream of paper, attempting to piece together a eulogy that she would've loved. I just couldn't get past more than a sentence. Looking back at her grave, the dirt now creating a hill over her body, it only made the realization ache a little more. That my mother and I were virtually strangers.

How do you write about someone that you don't know much about? How do you tell a crowd of people that your mother lived a life of regret, one where she was tethered to someone that would've been happier if she had been in that grave years ago? I'd only learned about the life Amelia lived over the course of the past month.

I hardly believe in an afterlife but if she has found her way into one, I hope she's happy. Still, I don't wish that kind of contrition on anyone. No one should finally get the chance to live their life, only after they've died.

Grabbing a set of keys out of my coat, I made it into the parking lot, to which I spotted her leaning against the jet-black sports car. I thought she would've left with Cordelia and Nicolas, but I should've known better. She always sticks around.

My shoes crunch against the gravel, the sound causing her to look up at me. She exhales winter smoke, rubbing her hands together for warmth even though they were gloved. She just stands there, waiting for me to make the first move. Her lips are parted, her tongue slipping out and licking them wet. She bounces a little, making me laugh at her childishness towards winter weather. This girl really doesn't like the cold. She curls her head to the side, and I know she's trying to gauge where my head is at.

Stepping closer to me, she ends up speaking before I do. Her body is almost flush with mine, and I peer down at her as she looks at me with apologetic eyes. It twists at my heart to see her anything other than happy. I still had yet to apologize for leaving her alone last night.

"I'm really sorry about Amelia," she softens, bringing my hands up to her lips and kissing the tops of my knuckles. She barely whispers, "I know we're in this weird liminal space, but I still wish I could've been there for you."

She looks up at me again, her eyes watery, and just the sight of her with tears makes me want to cry myself. I want to tell her how I feel at this exact moment, but things aren't finalized just yet, and I hated playing things by ear. If what I had done didn't work out the way I needed it to, I'd be back at square one again. I couldn't risk losing her again.