My Heart Will Go On

Chapter 7- The Talk

Aunt Sally was right. The funeral brought everyone closure (I didn't know what that meant at the time, but I do now) and they all seemed to carry on with their lives almost as if nothing had happened; once again, everyone except me, that was. In fact, on the night of the funeral, things seemed to grow worse for me. How? Okay. I guess there's something you should know about me. You already know being abandoned has really affected me (I don't think I would've reacted to Uncle Doc's death the way I did if it hadn't), but I started having nightmares when I found out about it. Now, whenever I find myself going through a difficult time, I find myself having nightmares.

That's exactly what happened when I was finally able to sleep after the funeral. I don't remember all of the details of the nightmare. All I remember is that it involved Doc and I woke up lying in a pool of my own sweat and screaming bloody murder. As I sat up and tried to slow my heavy breathing down, I glanced at the clock: 2:26. The other thing that caught my attention was the pot of ashes. We had each gotten one. I didn't want mine. It was just too creepy, but I took it anyway. I didn't know why, but I just couldn't bring myself to turn the pot down or get rid of it.

Normally, I'd cry, but nothing seemed to make me cry these days.

Papà and Babbo rushed in to comfort me, but I barely acknowledged them. I knew they were still plenty mad, but they could never ignore one of my nightmares. How did I feel? It was strange; I both did and didn't want to be alone.

A couple of weeks went by. By then, Uncle Doc had been dead for about a month. I was silent and sombre during the day and screaming through the night. I didn't say a word until the one-month mark. That's when we were all gathered at Flo's, trying to eat lunch. All of us were silent until Lightning cleared his throat to grab everyone's attention.

"You know", he began quietly, "I... I was thinking... Doc's not going to be using his clinic now. Obviously", he added. He continued after some brief hesitation. "And he deserves a proper, more important and permanent memorial than just a funeral."

Everyone else looked at him curiously.

"So, I... I thought we could turn his old clinic into a museum dedicated to him. After all, he was one of the greatest racers of all time. I'm sure people would love to see something like that." He grinned. "And I don't think we're ever gonna find a better place to put it."

Everyone besides me instantly started gushing over what a great idea that was and were chattering away about everything we could include in the museum. When they began talking about how much Doc would've loved it, that's when I uttered my first words in weeks.

"Can we please talk about anything else?!" I groaned.

They all turned to stare at me.

"Fudge", Papà warned me. "Let's not do this again."

"I'm not doing anything!" I argued. "I just don't want to talk about Uncle Doc anymore!"

"Well, I think we should", Uncle Sarge responded quietly. His voice was quiet, but he sounded angry.

"Yes", Papà agreed. "Fudge, you have been moody and very rude ever since Doc died. We all want you to talk to us."

"I've told you there's nothing to talk about! Doc's dead! That's it! What, did you expect me to be happy that he died?!"

"No, but we didn't expect you to be angry either", Aunt Sally answered. "Sweetie, we're all worried about you!"

"Well, I seem to be the only one who-" I began, jumping to my feet. However, I forgot about the full glass of orange juice by my feet. I knocked it over, shattering the glass and allowing the juice to spill all over the ground.