Chapter II: Care

A Chapter by Doodle29

Should I hug him? Put a hand on his shoulder and assure him that everything would be fine? Or maybe I should keep my stance, and simply give him my sincere apologies? Even if my brain is working, I feel like the dumbest person alive. I frown and instinctively lick my lips. He doesn’t look at me once, so I coldly ask:

“How?”

“Heart attack” he simply says. I’m struck by his calm; no accusations, no shouting, no crying. I feel useless. I don’t know what should I say to make him feel better. I glance at John, trying to figure out what’s in his head. His posture denotes sorrow and consideration, but his words have a hint of indifference. This kid is hard to figure out. I don’t want to try anymore either. I wonder if now we’ll go back home. I go for the door, then remember something.

“John?”

“What?” he murmurs.

“Stay strong.” I don’t know why I said this, but I don’t regret it. I push the door handle and step inside, leaving John and his problems behind. I didn’t know what was waiting for me within. It was hard to breath and concentrate. They were crying and yelling. The room also a mess, a chair on the floor and cards everywhere around me. A body on the floor. A dead body. The kid’s mother. She was beautiful, dirty blonde hair and verdant eyes. It’s the first time when I fully take in her appearance. Maybe is true that after you die, people accord you more importance. At least I know that I give her more importance now, than when she was still breathing. I can’t keep my eyes off her. I want to remember how a corpse looks like. My father must have seen that I’m hypnotized by the thing on the floor, because he came straight to me.

“What are you doing? Stop staring! “ His voice is low and somehow dangerous and my eyes slowly move from the body to meet his.

“She’s dead. I can stare, it won’t make her feel uncomfortable.” I can see his the line of his jaw clench, and his eyes move from mine and to look somewhere above me. His hand forcefully grabs my wrist and throws me across the room towards my mother who was sobbing in a corner.

“Try to calm her! When I’m back, we’ll leave.” That said, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. I turn to my mom, to see what I can do. Her eyes red and puffy and her body shaking. I love my mother, even if I don’t probably show it to her and it somehow pains me so see her like that. Her gentile beautiful blue eyes look at me. I have my mother’s eyes. The same azure eyes, even if mine say something else. She looks at me and try to smile. Even if she can barely can stop from crying, only to take sharp breaths of air, it’s admirable how she tries to seem strong for me, to show me that she’s okay, that everything will be fine. I sit down, next to her and say:

“ Dad wants to leave. He needs you to stop crying and sent me to help. What can I do?” She then stops from sobbing and gets up.

“Nothing, sweethear. Let’s help dad with the bags.” I lift to my feet and head to the door, leaving mom back. I found my father on the hallway, with all of our luggage at the entrance. I grab two of them, and my father takes the other two and go to the car. John was still out there. I didn’t mind him. Mom stopped to give the kid some support and encouragement then followed us in the car.

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