Other Side

33 | Far from Home

"Okay, let's be real. We're not all going to the funeral, right?"

Calvin broke the silence around the kitchen table, where one seat remained hauntingly empty. Their mother had excused herself some twenty minutes ago, much to the unease of their father, who kept pointing his wary gaze to the staircase.

"Calvin," Talia snapped, shooting him a glare, "let's at least be respectful."

"Okay, but are we really gonna sit around all silent for the rest of the day?" He fumbled with the knot on his burgundy tie for a moment before tossing it behind him, hard expression giving way. "Look, I feel horrible for Mama, but I need to know what's going to happen. I don't think I can miss another day of school and still pass junior year." Looking away, he added in a broken mumble, "I just wanna graduate, guys."

"Alright, listen." Their father pulled himself out of his trance, fingertips brushing his temples. "This is not something your mother and I have ever discussed. Her father passed away long before we married, and my parents—may they both live very long lives—are still around, thankfully. At the same time..." His hand grazed the nape of his neck. "I know how both of you feel about your grandmother, and to be frank, this week at work might be one of the busiest I've had in years. These next few clients are the difference between being able to afford your private school and your college tuition without batting an eyelash."

Talia lifted a finger. "Baba, you know I can take out—"

"Nonsense." He waved her off and turned back to her impatient brother. "I understand your sentiments, Cal. And truth be told, I can't make you go to a funeral you have no interest in attending, as much as I wish we weren't in this situation."

"Maybe I should go talk to her," Talia suggested. "It could help."

Her brother and father stared at her like she'd grown three heads. "Talia, maybe you should—"

Steeling herself, she ignored them both and floated to the marble staircase, mind somewhat detached from her body. As she mounted each step, she thought about the worst that could happen.

She'll ignore me?

Nothing I haven't experienced before.

With all the possibilities ticked off her mental checklist, Talia found herself by her parents' bedroom, the door ajar. She ducked away from the small bit of open space and arched her neck towards the door, trying to make out any sounds of emotion. Her mother had been strangely reserved downstairs, pale face flashing before her eyes.

The same one met her vision when she finally entered their bedroom.

She sat at the edge of the king-size bed, palms pressed flat into the white comforter, eyes trained on the empty suitcase on the floor, where random articles of clothing littered its sides. An oversized Stanford sweatshirt enveloped her body, appearing odd against her charcoal work pants. She'd always been slim, and a good three inches shorter than Talia ever since she'd hit puberty, but in that moment, she looked painfully small.

Unable to hold herself back, Talia made it to her beside and lowered herself to the mattress without waiting for a reaction—because there wouldn't be one. Even when her body was only two inches from hers, that same dread weighed down her mother's cold hazel eyes, empty suitcase bewitching her.

Closing her eyes, Talia snaked one arm behind her back and then rested her head on her shoulder. When she felt the slightest bit of tension leave her muscles, she wrapped the other arm around her front and hugged her mother for the first time in almost five months.

"I'm sorry, Mama," she whispered.

It took only three words for her to fall apart. Elbows meeting her knees, her mother buried her face into her hands and kicked away the empty suitcase before them with the top of her foot. Tears clogged Talia's throat as she watched her mother release ugly, burning sobs from the depths of her soul.