Game of Patience

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The service was beautiful, she had to admit. But she felt numb and tired. She could feel the sadness, but not strong enough to feel sad. She thought she should feel sad, she should be crying. But instead it stayed deep inside her, building slowly.

She saw the photos she had picked out. Some of her parents in uniform and others of her favourite photos when growing up. She had arranged them on boards and they were propped up on easels. There were two large photos of her mum and dad next to the coffins, each one had been taken at work at the end of the year.

The flowers were arranged perfectly around the room. There were bunches of her mum's favourites and bunches of her dad's. There were a mixture of purples and reds, the colours Brooke picked out. Purple was her dad's favourite colour, and red was her mum's. Aiza had probably arranged the placement of them, she had a special eye for detail. They started in a lighter shade by the door and slowly changed to a more vibrant shade, and then finally rested at a darker shade by the coffins. Red on the side her mum's coffin was, purple on her dad's.

Brooke was zoned out for most of the service, only zoning back in for a few seconds at a time. She had written a speech, but couldn't stand up and read it. She felt bad, but if she stood up she might have passed out. She could feel her knees trembling as she sat and watched. So instead Roger read her words.

It had taken her ages to write something. She had screwed up page after page and threw them in the recycling. Just to start another and throw that away. In the end she ended up writing half a page, of what exactly, she wasn't sure. She didn't want to read it back to herself. So instead she handed Roger the paper.

Roger read it out beautifully. She might not have registered the words, but the tone of his voice sounded more like singing than speaking. It was soft, well pronounced and soothing. The room was silent as he spoke. She could hear the point where he started to get choked up, where he was struggling to read her words. But still he continued. His voice was calming and warm. She didn't want him to stop talking.

She could hear people crying around her. She could feel eyes on her, like everyone was checking what kind of state she was in. But she didn't want to look around and catch anyone's eyes. So she left them to wonder.

She stared at the coffins. Reminding herself that her parents were inside. She imagined that they looked like they were sleeping. She wanted to desperately wake them. She would give anything for this to be one of dad's pranks that had gone too far. She loved his pranks and he was always trying to outdo himself.

What would she do if it was? She'd be angry, of course. But she'd probably laugh and then cry. Then they would go home and her dad would cook one of his roasts. The kind that you could smell the moment you walked through the front door. The one that welcomed you home. That wrapped you in the sweet smells that reminded you of family.

She looked at the coffins. Wishing her dad would jump out laughing. But as she watched the way the light hit the shine of the wood, she knew this was real. They were gone, and she was alone. The last Reid.

The room fell silent and Brooke felt a chill. She blinked and noticed that there was no one standing at the front of the room anymore. There was a guy wearing all black and white gloves stranding at the door, looking at the wall ahead of him, waiting.

She turned her head to the left, Roger was sitting next to her. The seats behind him were empty. She turned to her right and Phillips smiled weakly to her.

"We can stay if you want. For however long you want." He said quietly.

"Where is everyone?"
"Outside, looking at the flowers. Talking to each other." Roger replied. "We can go if you want."