Just A Piece

[3]

100 hours fifteen minutes and thirty eight seconds later. 

I stare at the scene in front of me, taking everything in slowly. There are seagulls. There are people. There is a lot of black. There are ashes. As far as I am concerned this memorial service is a complete waste of time and the biggest load of shit to ever grace this earth. Not only is most of the crowd made up of people he strongly dislikes-liked. Disliked. But also the eulogies are bullshit after bullshit. How he was a god fearing fellow. Never partied. Always focused on football and school. How he was a perfectly whole human being. I mean jesus christ did anyone other than me even know him?

  His parents of course planned all of this. And I do have to say it is going better than his tenth birthday party that they planned when they accidentally booked a male stripper instead of a clown, since no one has called the police, but minus the cop action this is atrocious. A complete disgrace to him. To what he deserves. 

I stand next to Cass who has not let me out of her sight for fifty hours straight, and also next to his parents who I have never disliked more in my life than this moment right now. I just need to get out. So in the middle of the priest going on about how Owen will be greatly missed, even though he never met him, I slip away. I don't even really notice that i'm walking away until the sea of black clothed mourners are out of view. All except for one. 

I knew that he would come. He has no right to, but I knew he was going to come. I counted on that. What I didn't count on was for him to follow me as I left the service at the beach, jogging after me and calling my name. No I did not count on that. 

"Clara. Claire. Can you wait a second?" He hisses as he follows me off the beach.

I myself am jogging to try and get away from him, but I am in a dress and lack motivation to do much of anything let alone run in a full out sprint to avoid him. Which I find strange because I have ran sixty miles in the past four days. Running has been the only thing that I have been able to do. That and count seconds. I don't know why I can't run away from him. It surely isn't that I want to talk to him.

My knees start to feel weak, well weaker than they have lately, as I listen to his footsteps approach. I don't know what keeps me from collapsing down onto the sound below me. An unknown force keeps me from falling. And I know if i'd fall i'd lose whatever composure I have left and start to scream and cry like the four year old that I am. 

Thankfully I don't fall to the ground.  

I have made a list of people that I don't want to speak to until I feel whole again. Maybe not even after that. Number one on the very tippy top of that list happens to be a man that goes by the name of, Jimmy Reyes. Who happens to be standing right behind me. 

I could name a million reasons why I loath Owen's brother. Millions. He is a selfish asshole that has no care for others and is a roach that needs to be stomped on. I despise Jimmy Reyes. I don't know why I didn't run away from him faster, but now he's right behind me and I have no choice.  

"Claire. I'm-can we go get coffee or something? I really want to talk to you."

I do not accept this invitation because he just lost his only brother. I do not feel bad for him. He lost my respect years ago. He lost Owen years ago. I don't know why I say yes. I don't know why I make any of the decisions I do lately. Or ever. It might have to do with the fact that he lost Owen a long time ago. He came to me because he wants me to help him, but I think he might be the one ending up helping me. He knows what it's like to live without the ones you love. Maybe even more than I do.

Jimmy and I walk to a dive looking dinner, just off the beach in complete and utter silence. I don't say anything to him not him to me. It has to be no surprise to Jimmy that I hate him. I haven't exactly tried to keep it a secret. It has never been hush hush. So I have no idea why he came to me. Honestly, at this point he's the only person I hate more than myself.