Chapter Eleven- The Fox and the Wolf

1.1K 11 0
                                    

The taxi ended up driving us to a small subdivision out of town. My father still lived in the same place as when I was here last, so I was able to give the taxi driver directions. I pointed out a small brick house in the middle of the orderly subdivision, hopes being raised high.

Heart pounding, the car pulled up in the smoothly paved driveway next to the two-story house. Before any of us could get out of the taxi, my father and grandmother ran out of the door, racing towards us. I was first to get out, next being Oliver and Lee, and the rest of the band. I ran straight into my father's arms, tears sprouting out of my eyes as soon as our bodies smashed together.

"I missed you, father!" I cried.

"Same here, darling . . ." He smiles underneath his tears.

Everyone else just surrounds us, admiring the father-daughter moment. It felt good to be back in England. All the trees were green as can be, the sun shining bright in our eyes, our bodies engulfed in the warm temperature.

My father and I pulled away, as I hugged my fragile grandmother, her limp arms holding me tight against her.

I smiled, wiping away my tears. Oliver came up beside me and grabbed my hand as we stepped onto the fresh cut grass.

My father gave up a weird look. "Is something going on between you two that I should know about, now?"

We both laughed, "Not yet, Dad. But we have become closer over the past month." I smile.

He chuckles, rubbing his hand over his bald spot on the top of his head, "Let's head inside, shall we?"

We all nod and agree, walking up the wooden porch steps as we were led inside the house to the spacious living room. Oliver, Lee, and I sit together on one couch, sinking in, while my dad and grandmother sit on the other across from us. The other band members disappear into the kitchen.

My father sighs deeply, starting off the conversation, "About the funeral . . .Your grandmother and I agreed to bury your mother in the Flower Stone Cemetery by the old Catholic church in town."

I nod solemnly as Oliver squeeze my hand for comfort. "I'm fine with that. Also, isn't that were grandfather was buried a couple years ago?"

Grandmother nods, her weak voice coming out in whispers, "It's the best place for your mother, Jane."

"Yes . . ." I say. Grandmother lost my grandfather a couple years ago to lung cancer. She was still dealing the pain of losing her true love. "What time will the funeral be tomorrow?"

"Around eleven in the morning." My father replies, as a tear rolls down his cheek.

I wanted to hug him again so badly, to help the pain go away. But he needed some space. If I ever lost Oliver or Andy like Father lost Mum and my grandmother lost her husband . . . I frown. "Okay . . ."

The three of us push ourselves off of the comfortable couch, as I kiss my grandmother and father on the cheeks as we walk past them and up the carpeted stairs. Oliver, still holding my hand, asks, "You okay?"

I shook my head as we approached my mum's room on the first room on the left. My hands trembled as I gripped the doorknob, the door slowly creaking open. Oli and Lee followed me inside. Everything in her room was the way it was when I last seen in a few months ago. Twin bed with white, purple, pastel floral bed sheets perfectly made pushed up in between two paned windows, light shining through, creating patterns on the soft and white carpet. Old wooden night stands were placed on either side of the bed with lamps to match the bed sheets. Family pictures of my brother and I, as well as Mum and Dad, covered the yellow pastel walls. The aroma of the room smelled like roses, light and fresh, my mum's favorite kind of flowers. A white fan hung over the room, circulating the air inside the room.

It was all beautiful.

I walked over to one of the pictures hanging on the wall and studied it. It was a family portrait of me, my mum and dad, and Lee. This was at least a few years ago, when I had my short blonde hair before it grew out to below my shoulders and when Lee had shorter hair and more defined features. Dad looked so young and not overwhelmed with stress, for he still had a bush of light, wavy brown hair instead of the bald spot on the top of his head that he has now and the deep wrinkles taking over his face. But more importantly, Mum looked healthy, young, and full of life. Her long blonde hair took over in curls, hanging far below her shoulders, as her blue eyes were bright with life. She didn't look pale then, but had a beige coloring to her skin with rosy cheeks.

Just a few months ago, before I left for the tour, Mum's hair was losing life and her blue eyes seemed to fade to gray. Her complexion looked dead and much too pale.

Then she passed away yesterday, because of stupid heart failure. It wasn't just that, I know. She also had trouble breathing because of her lungs from too much smoking. She started smoking two packs a day every week due to being depressed on the death of her father, also grandmother's husband. My mum was a daddy's girl, as so am I, so this all took a heavy toll on her. She was only 40.

A tear rolled down my cheek, my heart sinking with loss. Noticing this, Lee and Oliver moved in around me and enclosed me with their comforting embrace. We stood in silence as we remembered and cherished every memory. Then I heard sniffles that weren't coming from me. I looked up and noticed both guys crying. I shouldn't be surprised, for Oliver was almost just as close with our Mum as Lee and I were.

Out of nowhere, there was a soft but light knock on the door to the room. "Jane? Oliver and Lee?"

Grabbing our attention, Oliver and Lee pulled away as we all wiped our tears to face Dad. "I have something I have to show you," He continues, waving us out of the room. He led us back down the stairs and back into the living room. Dad kneeled onto the carpet floor and looked beneath the couch closet to the stairs. He pulled out a small rectangular container and sat it on the glass coffee table. Taking the top off, he pulled out three separate letters as he handed us our own. The three of us sat down and read the notes to ourselves.

Sleep With One Eye OpenOnde histórias criam vida. Descubra agora