Somebody to Love

Chapter 5

It was actually easy to explain to Dad what had happened. He somehow understood. Maybe it was because of pity. After all my best friend had passed away. Maybe he knew I needed to breathe or in Will's terms "know I could survive". Either way, I didn't mention Will. Emma's parents and my dad had had enough time spent together when we were little to know about Will. He was bad news. "Troubled" as some people called him.

There were only three things I knew about Will:

1) He was bad news.

2) He smoked.

3) He left his family.

There were holes. Emma didn't like to talk about him and he wasn't mention within the family unless something had happened like he skipped school again or was kicked out of another Walmart because he had been drunk again. Before he left his family, he would bring girls home. Sometimes when I would have a sleepover Emma and I would find a girl leaving the house either in the middle of the night, early in the morning, or before his parents woke up.

Unconsciously, I braided a couple of strands of my caramel colored hair as my dog Lacey slept by my side.

"It just doesn't make sense," I told her, "He never has talked to me... not like an actual conversation. Sometimes he would be drunk or moody and not say anything, but I would avoid him then anyways. Emma talked about him sometimes. The most she ever talked about him was when we were little. It would be things like 'Who's in your family?' projects or how he got in trouble by his parents again." Lacey let out a sleepy sigh.

Once I finished the braid, I undid it and started again. My mind wandered to another question. Why had Will come to the funeral at all? He knew he was unwanted by his family. No one even at the funeral would care. So why come?

Knock-knock! I looked to my open door to see Dad. Lacey's head peeked up when she saw him. He had a sympathetic smile on his face.

"I'm going to run to the store. Need anything?" he asked. A way to being my friend back, I thought.

"Nope. I'm good," I answered. Dad nodded, looking at Lacey.

"Mom said she was going to call you sometime today," he said. Mom. Is that what you would really call her? She was gone for business trips most of the time. She was more like another person who just lived in the house every once in a while and I just had to share DNA with her.

"Okay. Did you talk to her?" I asked.

"Last night, I did. She had just gotten off of her plane in Seattle." I undid my braid and tossed my hair aside.

"I can't believe she didn't go to the funeral," I mumbled.

"She had to work."

"It's called a day off."

"I'll be back," said Dad. He gave up fighting with me. As soon as he left, Lacey set her head back down. I listened as the garage door opened, Dad's car pulling out, and the garage closing. Once he was gone I picked up my phone.

It was 9:00 a.m. on Tuesday, June 6, 2017. I had nothing to do this summer. I started work in two weeks. Emma and I couldn't do all the fun things we had planned doing. I could do them by myself but I was an emotional wreck, it wouldn't help me.

I sat up and walked to my closet. Did I want to get dressed today? I looked down at my pajamas that consisted of shorts and a tank top. I shook my head and left my room, headed downstairs. The familiar jingle of a purple collar made me know a yellow lab was following.

I entered the kitchen and searched through the pantry for some snack, most likely unhealthy. I found a box of Cheese Its. Not unhealthy but not recommended to consume the whole box. I reached over and grabbed a treat for Lacey. I bent down and let her slobbery mouth devour her snack. I wiped the remainder of her slobber on my shorts, closed the pantry door, and we returned to my room.

By eleven I had finished half of the box. Dad probably got caught up in the camera section at Target. He had a thing for photography.

I had taken Lacey outside two times, watched some episodes of a new Netflix show, trying to distract myself. That's what Will had told me to do.

Then there was Will. I continued to repeat questions in my head, trying to make sense of it all.

No sense came.

By the time the phone rang, it was 11:05 p.m. When I saw the caller ID, I immediately regretted even picking up the phone. He wanted me to talk to her. Fine. Then I would talk to her for him. I pressed the answer button and held the phone against my ear.

"Hello," I greeted, trying not to deadpan.

"Clara, how are you sweetie?" Sweetie? Since when did call me sweetie? Maybe it was a pity thing. What else would you say when your daughter's best friend is dead? Probably not "how are you" because that's just stupid. I smiled against the phone.

"I'm doing great! I've gotten a lot done and have been super productive. I've had such a great start to the summer! I can't imagine doing anything else with my time," I answered, my voice as happy as a cheerleader. I put the Cheese Its back into the pantry.

"I'm sorry about Emma, Clara. I really am. I knew her too you know," Mom said.

'Sorry', that's all I ever did was hear 'sorry'. 'Sorry' for the family, 'sorry' for the friends, 'sorry' for everyone who knew Emma. I was done with 'sorry'.

"If you knew her then you would have gone to the funeral," I replied.

"The timing wasn't great and it was unexpected. I couldn't work my schedule around it," Mom explained. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm sorry Emma's death was such an inconvenience to you. Maybe I should have told her to die only on certain days at certain times," I said, my voice laced with anger. She sighed on the other end of the line. She was done fighting with me too.

"When will you be back?" I asked her. She didn't need to think I hated her for eternity, just this point in time I hated her, as well as a few times in the past.

"I should arrive back Friday morning," Mom answered. I nodded even though she couldn't see me.

"Then I guess I'll see you Friday."

"If you need anything you can call me, you know that right?"

"Yes, Mom."

"I am sorry about Emma." I closed my eyes and sucked in a breath.

"Goodbye, Mom."

"Goodbye, Clara." I hung up the phone and placed it back on its charger on the counter. I slid down the side of the counter, ignoring the handle that pressed into my back. I rested my head back, looking up at the ceiling. Lacey walked over to me and sat by me. Her pink tongue hang out. Lacey whined. I reached out and pet her head.

"'Sorry' Lace, that's all they ever say," I said. She laid down beside me, resting her head on my lap. She wouldn't say sorry though, even if she could talk. She wouldn't say sorry.