When With You

17

A month has passed,

By November everyone knew about my brother's "unfortunate" passing through overdose. They called it unfortunate as if they cared a little bit, they didn't but it's okay to fake shit like that. It is okay to tear up and shove their fake condolences down my throat.

I haven't spoken to my mom since the day I yelled at her, even when she shouted at me the next day for being ungrateful, and I quote, 'Not the Mason she knew'. Supposedly, she knew me.

Didn't say a word when she told me she arranged for Madison to be buried a day before my birthday; not when she told me he'd be laid next to my grandma; and not when she told me she had invited dad and grandpa-- we haven't talked to any of them in almost twelve years, and the first thing we tell them is that my brother is dead. Perfect.

I've been ignoring Peter, I'm allowed to, after all, that was the plan--after Peter and I finish the project we would stay away from each other--I'm just following that plan. Though he has been extra persistent, and I'd usually entertain his shit but I have lost the energy to enjoy the little arguments we had.

Divine just stays by my side, we don't talk about anything, all she does is sit with me and stare into space-- I think it's because she can truly relate to losing someone. Peter lost his brother but he didn't know him-- or like him for that fact, so he doesn't understand my pain like Divine does.

Farren's baby bump is the only thing that brings me a sense of joy in all of this. She extremely happy despite the experience might end up a huge trauma for her, and the way she was pissed at George. I'm so proud of her, sometimes I'll catch myself smiling at Farren as she rubs her tummy affectionately-- that baby growing inside will be born into so much love. That baby will be lucky.

I haven't seen Seth in two weeks now, some say he is on a family vacation in Hawaii, and others say he is mourning the death of his 'stalker'. Well, I say if I see his face I'll kill him. Either way, he is having the best time of his life.

"Will you stay tonight?" Michael has this new voice, gentle and cautious as if he raised his voice by a note I'd break. He stands near my side of the car's window, the rough November winds playing with his brown hair. He took Madison's death worse than I thought he would, but I'll assume the pain has reduced now.

"I have work, but I'll cook for you before I leave." Your damn mother hasn't been at home for three weeks now. As for me, I'm still shoving everything down for now. Or maybe it still hasn't smacked me yet, considering I don't believe Madison is dead.

Michael suddenly grabs my window with the most torn look in his huge eyes, "You've been working for the whole week, I don't want your food if I don't have someone to eat with! What happened to being there for each other?" His breath fogs my window and for a minute that's all I can focus on,

"I was there whenever you cried; I've comforted you through all of this. I-- Mickey, I'm working to pay for the extra charges your mother won't consider for this damn funeral. Please, understand." I never thought I would have to plead for him to understand why I do these things, I get he is feeling lonely but that's what his pets are for.

He snorts and glares at me, "You are full of shit--"

"Michael--"

"Why are you running away from this? You haven't cried once, or even lamented over any memories, all you do is work and think about everyone else. Just mourn already!"

I shake my head at how annoying he is being, "I'm fine," I reach for his hair but he pushes my hand away, "I don't need to grief right now, I need to focus on you ...and mom and grandpa and dad coming soon...and the planned budget for this year will need adjusting, " I close my eyes, the headache of having to be alive is a bitch.