Our Brother's Keeper

456 12 1
                                    

Chapter 44

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Chapter 44

I touch my shoulder as I glance up at the white church. I wince in pain even though my shoulder is wrapped tight in gauze. Getting shot was a pain like no other. But at least I'm still alive, I remind myself.

Some people weren't so lucky.

My heart weighs heavy in my chest as I start to climb the church stairs. Behind the big mahogany doors everyone is waiting to say goodbye to Tory. I fight the urge to feel sorry for myself. It's my fault that we're gathered here today. If only I had done something...

Stop.

That doesn't matter now. What's done is done. No matter how many times I rewrite history in my mind, it'll never change what really happened. Tory is dead. Now today is all about him.

Keeping that in mind, I tuck my feelings down as far as they can go. Then I hold my breath before I pull open the doors and walk inside the church.

...

The service was long and painful. With every sob I heard, I died a little inside. Honestly, if a tear had escaped Munch I probably would have ran out of the church crying. But luckily for me, he was too busy consoling his mom to let himself break down.

We didn't get a chance to talk during the service. I tried to reach out to him when I first came in but he just shifted in his seat and ignored me. I don't know if he was trying to be respectful to the preacher but it's not like I was asking him to have a full-blown conversation with me. I mean Daz nodded his head at me from across the room. I expected some sort of acknowledgment from Munch too. After all, I thought we were mud brothers. We're supposed to be in this together.

At the same time, I know everyone handles grief differently. What felt like the cold shoulder from Munch could very well just be him processing his grief. But I can't help wondering if that's all it was.

It's no secret that I was closer to Tory than the rest of the boys. But I would hate to think that my friendship with Munch was solely based on my friendship with Tory. And now that Tory's gone, maybe Munch doesn't have much to say to me anymore.

I can handle a lot of things but I wouldn't be able to handle that. So before we all get in our cars, drive away and possibly never speak to each other again, I have to get some things understood.

As we file out the church, I spot Munch in the crowd of long faces. I hobble down the steps on my twisted ankle. I catch up to him just as he's helping Juanita into the car.

"Munch," I call.

I could be trippin' but I swear he sighs as he closes the passenger door.

"Yeah," He says dryly.

"Can we talk?" I ask.

He shrugs. I step away from the car so we can have some privacy. Munch follows me.

Family TithesWhere stories live. Discover now