Someone In The Crowd [Paul Wesley]

99. IRL

Becky and Cece knocked on the door. It was weird, the house felt completely the same. They expected to feel some kind of lack. Something... missing.

"Hi," their mother said as she opened the door and saw them. "Come in."

"Hi mum," Becky said, hugging her mum. Cece walked past the two of them, curling up in her father's armchair and trying to keep the sobs at bay for the time being. "So, how are you?" Becky asked their mum.

"I've been better," she said. "People keep coming over, bringing food. They all say 'how are you' as if they expect me to be depressed or something."

"They care about you," Becky reminded her.

"They want me to play the widow. They want me to cry and scream and tell them that I can't live my life without a man. Well I can't do that."

"But, you are a widow. Mum, you've just gone through a serious loss," Becky said.

"Look, your father wasn't as amazing as you think he was. Both of you girls, especially you Cecilia, put him on such a pedestal."

"So what are you saying? You don't care that he's dead?" Cece spoke for the first time.

"That's not what she's saying!" Becky said.

"I'm not saying that. But, I've been unhappy for years and no one ever seemed to care. I'd never wish death upon him, but now I have the opportunity to live my life the way I want to." She paused. "I'm gonna get a drink," she said, standing up and walking into the kitchen. Immediately, Becky reached over to her sister and whispered.

"She doesn't mean it. She's just drunk."

"We both know she's not drunk yet," Cece said. "She meant everything she said. She didn't love him when he was alive, why would she love him now he's not?"

"That's not true. They did love each other."

"I hate her," Cece mumbled.

"You don't," Becky said, before going over the conversation in her head. "Maybe you do. Maybe I do a little bit too." She looked at her watch. "Hey, Paul's flight should be getting in soon, right?"

Cece nodded, closing her eyes. She thought that, maybe, when she opened them, everything would go back to the way it was. She'd still be in Vegas with the girls, and her dad would still be alive.

***

"Hey," she heard a voice say softly. Cece looked up to see Paul sitting next to her.

"Hey," she said, disoriented for a moment. "When did you get here?"

"Only like 5 minutes ago," he said, as Lauren Cameron walked into the room, a drink in her hand.

"So mum, I wanted to ask," Becky started carefully. "What happened? Was it just a random heart attack?"

"I have no idea," she said. "We were arguing, I said that I wanted a divorce. Then I went out to buy some cigarettes and when I got back, he was unconscious. It was nothing to do with me."

Cece took a deep breath, before burying her face in her hands and uttering the words that she could no longer hold back.

"You killed him."

"Oh yeah sure, blame me. You always do."

"I blame you because everything that happens is your fault! You made dad's life hell!"

"He made my life hell! Both of you did. Becky's the only one who even cares about me!"

"Do you blame me?! Ever since we were young Becky was the golden child and I was the one that you forgot about. Dad had to go over and above just to make me feel like I was part of the family!" Cece shouted. Paul gently put a hand on her arm but she barely felt it.

"Is that what you think?" her mum asked. She nodded. "Cece, your dad and I loved you. But you rebelled. You stayed out until late, missed curfew, you got that job at 14 and we never saw you. We had to move to LA because you had this crazy dream of being an actress, and we supported you. And then you got more acting roles, and you thought that you were better than us. You left us behind."

"So you're telling me that you hate me because I missed curfew a couple of times and tried to make it as a successful actress?"

"You know, your father's heart started getting bad after you went to Atlanta," she said matter-of-factually. "He thought that you were leaving us forever. So in a way, this... thing is your fault."

"That's out of order," Paul said angrily. "You can't seriously be blaming Cece for this?!"

"You know, I think the final nail in the coffin, excuse the pun, was when he found out about your engagement on the news. He just couldn't work out why you wouldn't tell him."

Cece froze. "He knew?" she asked, tearing up.

"Yes, he knew."

"You know what mum, I don't hate you, for anything that you've done. I don't blame you for your turbulent marriage or our awful teenage years. I don't even blame you for this. I feel sorry for you. It's not your fault that you couldn't love me or dad - you're not capable. And now that this has happened, I have no reason to come to LA anymore."

"I did love you, and your dad."

"But not like a mother or wife should," Becky spoke up. They turned to her. "You preferred me because I did everything for you. I idolised you because you were my mum, but you treated me like a therapist. Every argument, every fight, you got me involved. You made me feel every little thing that you felt."

"I didn't mean to-"

"I know that, and I don't blame you," Becky said. "But I can't do this anymore. I can't be your therapist, and Cece can't be your scapegoat. We're gonna go and stay in a hotel. We'll be here for the funeral, but then we're going back home."

"You're leaving me again?" she asked. Neither of them answered. Cece looked at the mantelpiece and spotted a series of pictures in glass frames, all containing her father. She stood up and collected the photos. Putting them into a plastic bag, she went upstairs into her father's room and added certain articles of clothing and notes with his handwriting on them to the bag. Then she went back downstairs.

"I'm keeping all this stuff."

Then, with Becky and Paul behind her, she left the house.