Ginger

VIII

"Death ends a life, not a relationship," - Mitch Albom

Chapter 8

2 days was all it took for Frank's body to show up in the morgue.

Macy who had found out about her brother's death the following day had called over 4 morgues all over the city. Trying to see if her brother's body had been found or if some sort of evidence that says the video was false.

She wanted it to be false. But when she got that call from her old Detective friend. She already knew.

"Mom you don't have to go in there, I can," Noah whispers, as he looked back at the door.

Macy shooked her head. "No, I need to confirm if it's him," Noah nodded, letting go of his mother's arm.

He watches as she walked into the room, followed by the mortician and Marco.

"You Okay Ms. Torres?" The lady asked as she goes to remove the sheet from his face.

Macy nodded, gripping Marco's hand for support. When the lady removed the cloth, Macy's legs gave out and she couldn't hold back the tears or the scream.

She knew this day would come, but she wasn't prepared for it.

After she had dried up and used all her tears. Macy sat outside, a cigar in between her fingers.

All she could think about after all that crying was to smoke and how angry she was at Frank for leaving her, angry at her father for raising him in a bad environment, angry at her mom for loving someone like her dad, and angry at the person that pulled the trigger.

"Mom," Noah calls again.

"Mom,"

"Mom,"

"Mom-"

"Noah what!" She yells, her cigar falling out of her trembling hands. "Fuck look what you have done did,"

Noah stomps on it before she could. "You look tired, let me take you home so you can rest-"

"What you should do is be useful for once and get me another fucking cigar, instead of whining mom every two fucking seconds!" She said, sounding annoyed.

Noah nodded his head and got up. "Wait,"

"I'm sorry," she whispers, tears falling down her cheeks. Her sniffles were soon replaced by laughter.

"Mom, you alright?"

Macy chuckled, nodding her head. "Perfectly fine,"

Macy knew that Frank would want a memorial so, in just 16  hours, she had already arranged for tents, flowers, chairs, food, and someone to decorate the yard and had called all of Frank's old friends.

Frank had so many people he called Family.

"Hello everyone, I had written down what I wanted to say today but After the 14 times, I just said fuck it. I'll say it from the heart. Because one thing I remember about Frank was that he always said things from the heart. I remember when this man was just 15 years old, telling me, who was a 20-year-old man to never give up on what I wanted to do in life.