ONE
My father died a good man.
I can’t remember when last I found myself in a funeral home. It’s been years. In fact, it feels like centuries since my mother died. I can remember her funeral quite vividly. Why? Because the only people in attendance were me and the man in the gold-crested casket right in front of me.
“Xavier Stephens died a good man,” The priest repeats, his expression stone grave on the pulpit. “He has returned to the Lord, and we can all trust that he is in a much better place now.”
Tears sting my eyes, and I don’t even try to blink them back. I hate this. I hate how final it all feels. How helpless it all leaves me.
How stupid this entire funeral business is.
I had opposed it. Father was never a religious man. The last time he stepped foot in a church was the day before Mother died. He’d come to pray, to beg God to spare the life of his wife. His one true love. He’d cried in that church for hours, all for nothing because the news of her death was what greeted him the minute he arrived at the hospital to see her.
Which is why I believe he would have absolutely hated this entire ceremony. It’s not him at all. He would’ve wanted a funeral where only me, Helen, and Yasmin would be in attendance. Not this crowd of strangers that this hall can barely even contain. It grates on my nerves, and Helen knows.
I risk a glance to the other side of the aisle to where my stepmother and stepsister are seated. Helen has a handkerchief up to her face, her eyes reddened, and face swollen. I am amused, because the days following Father’s death, she’d been at her happiest, planning a lavish funeral for him, and ignoring my suggestions that we should cut lose on our expenses, and that Father would have wanted that too. Now, seated in church, she looks angelic. A widow in grief.
A snake.
My stepsister, Yasmin seats with her head resting on her boyfriend’s shoulder. Her blonde hair frames her beautiful face, and she looks every bit at peace with the man I’d once considered my best friend. The man I’ve always loved.
The man who chose my sister over me.
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and stand with a rose in hand. The stem is smooth, and the rose fresh. I had selected it carefully. I’m the first to go up to the casket. To feel the surface of it. See if I can reach the brilliant, special, best father anyone can ask for inside for the very last time.
The tears can’t stop coming as I hug the casket and let them fall, my chest full of grief.Oh, Father. Is this the end, truly? So, I’d never see you again? How can you leave me in this cruel world? How can you leave me with Helen and her daughter? Don’t you love me, Father?
I don’t know who pulled me away, but I sure wasn’t expecting it to be Cain Monte, my best friend. I look from him to Yasmin who’s standing by his side, her eyes just as red as mine. I’m surprised when Yasmin pulls me in for a hug, the smell of coconuts washing over me. “He’s gone, sis. I’m so sorry.”
“He’s not gone,” I whisper, not even believing the words myself. The priest signals to Cain. We’ve wasted enough time already as it is, but I can’t bring myself to start the burial.
“It’s time, Mal,” Cain whispers, taking my hand. His mother, Sienna, nods at me with tears in her eyes. I can’t even begin to say how thankful I am that the Montes are here. Their presence feels like a warm hug, all grievances towards Cain aside. But I know they won’t be around me anymore once today ends. Not if I don’t go ahead with Father’s last wishes.
“Mallory, the priest is waiting,” Cyrax Monte says as he comes up next to Yasmin and take up my hand, his touch warm, calming. He was Father’s co-CEO, and I know how much this funeral is chipping away at him from the inside. But Cyrax has never been the one to show his emotions openly. A lone tear falls down my cheek as Cyrax guides my rose-filled hand, raising my arm to let it fall into my father’s casket. He still holds onto it as my arm drops to my side, as though he’s hanging on to me for dear life.
“We may now begin,” the priest announces.
The sound of sobbing fills the church instantly. I’m aghast at the large number of people mourning. People I’ve never seen before until today. Dad didn’t have a big circle of friends around him while alive, that I know for sure. His only trusted best friend and mentee was Cyrax Monte. These people here are not here for him. They’re here for his scheming wife, Helen.
I watch as the priest drops a small amount of soil onto the casket and I close my eyes, finally accepting it’s all over. He’s gone. My hero. It all feels so finite. Memories of mother’s funeral comes rushing back, but hers was a different affair. It was a double funeral, but we’d already buried my brother, Flynn way earlier. Flynn died hours after Mom. He was a premature baby. Dad had been there during Mom’s funeral to hold me. To assure me he wouldn’t leave me alone. It made all the difference.
Now he’s gone.
Now, I am truly alone.
