Untitled: Just a Random Oneshot

A Story by Penwhill

She stood there hours after everyone else was gone. She’d lost all perception of time, as she simply stood over his… She saw it but still couldn’t say it, not out loud, not even to herself, she just couldn’t. Maybe she was scared that saying it would make her realize this wasn’t just a horrible dream. Scared that admitting it would solidify her own pre-existing fear of one day joining him wherever it is he was now gone. Scared of being reminded there were things outside her control, things she could not change or fix no matter how much she learned about them; no matter how smart she was or hard she tried.

Honestly she never even expected it to affect her so much. Although he’d been a big part of her childhood, she hadn’t actually seen him or spoken to him in years. As ashamed as she was to admit it, she’d come to slowly forget about him; until that distraught phone call from her brother one week ago. She could tell he’d been crying despite his desperate attempt at trying to cover up the tears in his voice. She hated it when he cried; she genuinely wished she could bring him back to life to stop her little brother’s tears. Maybe if she stood here long enough he would jump out from where he lay and scream “surprise!” or “boo!” or “it was just a prank!” but of course he wouldn’t. For the simple reason that it wasn’t a prank and she knew it. Still she stood there, until her legs started to hurt, till her shoulders felt heavy and her head weighted too much for her neck to hold up. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as if making up for the ones he couldn’t take anymore. She stared right at the tombstone that bore his name and forced the words “you’re dead” out of her lips. She felt the full weight of those words as she took a moment to let them sink deep within her heart. She let out a heavy sigh before turning and walking away.

She sat on the terrace of a coffee shop enjoying a cup of tea, while trying to rationalize her feelings. It was the only way she knew how to deal with them. She’d been sitting there for a while now, questioning herself and trying to come up with reasonable answers as to why she felt the way she did, when an interaction on the sidewalk caught her attention. A little girl, maybe 6, complained about her untied shoelaces; her grand-father picked her up and sat her on the trunk of their car. He then patiently went through the steps to teach her how to tie her laces on her own. The scene made her feel nostalgic for her own childhood; for every morning when her parents were either sleeping or arguing, but he’d be there, he’d teach her how to tie her shoelaces before holding her hand to the car and driving her to school. Every. Morning. Despite the sadness the memory filled her with an odd sense of happiness. “You have a lovely child” she called out to the old man on the sidewalk from her table. The man turned around and smiled at her “thank you. ” He said, then turning to address the child “What do we say to the nice lady Molly?” and the child replied shyly “thank you…” she smiled at the family as they got in the car and the old man politely nodded at her “have a nice day!” “You too” she muttered much too silently for him to have heard. Not that he seemed to care, he was already driving away.

She walked in to her apartment to James fretting around in the kitchen, she didn’t even question it anymore and just let out an exasperated sigh. He immediately left the kitchen to join her in the living room where she was already taking her coat off. “Where were you? I called like a billion times and you wouldn’t answer your phone!” he exclaimed taking her coat. “Yes well. There is a reason for that.” She said nonchalantly. “Yes I know you hate phone calls. But I texted you like a bajillion times and you didn’t reply, so like a normal human being I got worried…” she cut him off “I highly doubt you sent me a ‘bajillion’ texts; as you can see I’m fine. You can go home.” There was a moment of silence as his amber eyes peered into her dark brown ones, trying to decipher what she was feeling. His stare made her a little uncomfortable so she turned away and headed towards the kitchen. “You seem upset.” He said simply and she replied just as simply “that’s because I came home to a picked lock and a creep running around my kitchen.” He chuckled but didn’t say anything else, he just stood there for a while looking at her. “Your landlord told me about your loss…he was worried…said you were…moodier… than usual.” He said hesitantly. She put her glass of water down swallowing her aspirin, then walked back towards James throwing her hands in the air and said “well as you can see I’m not quite dying of chagrin yet so you can go ahead and tell him that I’m perfectly fine!” she hated that look in his eyes. He looked at her like she was a wounded puppy and she hated it. “Alright.” He said getting his coat, he then paused and added “I don’t know how important this person was to you…but I just wanted to say I’m really sorry for your loss.” She shrugged and tried to seem unaffected “it’s not like there was anything you could’ve done” but the second the words came out she knew she’d failed. It’s not like there was anything he could’ve done. It’s not like there was anything she could’ve done and her helplessness angered her to no end. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she was surprised to find herself in James’ arms; his hand resting at the top of her head, his arm wrapped around her. “What are you doing?” she asked perplexed by this unrequited show of affection. “Well…I’m hugging you. That’s a thing normal people do when the people they care about are sad. It’s supposed to make you feel better.” He explained as if she was completely alien to the concept of hugs. “It’s not working, and I don’t understand what makes you think I’m sad.” She said attempting to persuade herself as much as James. “Give it sometime. It’s okay” he murmured, slowly rocking her side to side “you’re okay.” A few moments passed in silence and she muttered a “thank you” which made him laugh out loud. She broke the contact off “what’s so funny?” she asked unsure of what it was he found so amusing. He smiled and said “nothing really. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have laughed! It’s just that I never expected to be thanked by you ever and it caught me off guard.” She didn’t say anything and simply turned and walked away from him. He felt a pang of empathic sadness and let out a silent sigh. “If you need anything just…let me know okay?” he asked slightly concerned, she waved her hand at him dismissively from behind the couch where she’d thrown herself. “Oh and one last thing” he called out as he was leaving and she groaned “anybody ever tell you, you talk too much?” “I left you some chocolate cake in the fridge” he said simply “goodnight” and she heard the door close and his footsteps down the hallway as he left. She just laid there staring at the ceiling with tears in her eyes and what looked like a small smile.