Remember Me

Chapter 67

The morning of my mother's funeral, I wore a black dress shirt and pants, and my dad was dressed the same, but with a black jacket as well. Neither of us had touched those clothes since. It was the start of a long spell of silence between my father and me. We went through the motions of the morning— breakfast, getting ready, getting in the car, driving to to funeral home, all in silence. My dad's eyes were puffy, likely from crying the previous night. I was feeling drained, and my hair which was usually neat and proper, looked frizzy and unkempt.

When we arrived, we were greeted by people in our circle— my dad's assistant, other top Sando executives, our lawyer and other family friends... Before it really processed, I realized Jimin was standing by my side, his hand snaking into mine.

I turned to glance at him and nodded. He looked like he'd been crying too.

When we arrived inside, we saw that family members were already waiting, sitting up front. In our usual fashion, my father and I sat all the way in the back. People knew to give us space— Jimin is the only one who sat with us, next to me. I felt faint, and leaned my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes.

My cousin, Kaveh, interrupted us to say hello, all teary-eyed but trying to look jovial. His sister was crying by the front, I could see her.

My mother was a very accomplished and social woman— the amount of people who cycled through the building during the wake was formidable. As I saw them, every now and then I felt myself tear up and cry, and I buried my face into Jimin's shoulder to stop myself.

After a few hours, I stepped outside to get some fresh air and food that a family member had brought everyone, and I saw a woman sitting at the steps of the building with a young child. She was talking to me father desperately, and he seemed pale and distressed, almost angry.

I ran up to him and stood between the two. The woman had tears in her eyes.
"Please! Are you— are you her daughter? Please just... I'm so sorry!"

My dad put a hand on my shoulder and pulled me back to stand behind him.
"It's... it's out of our control. Nothing you say will change anything."

"We just got married! We have a baby now!" Her young child was getting upset. My father closed his eyes and sighed, walking back inside. He held my hand, but I shook him off and waved at him to go by himself. He didn't have the energy to argue.

I looked back at the woman. She had looked like she was a part of the funeral procession, but I realized quickly that she was the wife of the man that hit mom.

Sitting down close to her, I took in a few deep breaths. I had to be sensible. This woman seemed stressed. Her child was getting agitated, it looked barely a year old. I looked over and gave a weak smile to the baby, who stopped shifting around and stared back curiously.

The mother looked over at me sadly and swallowed, "I'm sorry for your loss, I- I don't mean ill will."

I shook my head and sat quietly, the two of us relishing the breeze on the air for a moment.

"I don't think," I cleared my throat, "that dad can do anything for your husband. And I don't really think he should."

The woman gasped and her curly frizz shook as she turned to me, "N-no. He could... he could choose not to speak at the trial. He's very rich, so—"

"If he doesn't speak at the trial, I will," I looked at her with sad determination.

The woman looked struck with fear and confusion. God, she couldn't have been older than 25.

I doubled down, "I have to do everything I can. Just like you're doing right now. Can you blame me?"
Her expression hardened as she hugged her baby close, "Yes, I can."