Categories > Original > Drama > Lola
I was disappointed with the fact that we could not clear out Hunter's apartment in time for the funeral. We had been so ardent on completing that task so it wouldn't be so hard emotionally afterwards.
I hated funerals, I've been to so many in my life. Family, friends, co-workers, all never easy or enjoyable. Who enjoys a funeral anyway?!
I straightened my tie in the mirror, making sure I did it just right, like my father had taught me.
His story was a morose one, a funeral that confused me. Should I be sad or happy for his passing? I'm sure it's how Echo feels about Hunter. Like me, she was going only to save face with those who loved him the most.
My mother had offered to go with me, but I told her Gwen was going. She was happy about that, seeing how we both connected and were getting along. If only she knew what that girl was capable of.
My fingers gently grazed the pale pink scar imperfecting my left collar bone, trailing all the way to just above my nipple. My father.
I instinctively punched the tiled bathroom wall, making the mirror and toothbrush stand shake.
I sighed heavily, casting out the sick memory and trying to focus on another dead person.
I was even more disappointed with the fact that I didnt' get to talk to Ethan about the whole Hunter scandal before this event. I had wanted to clear up any forboding clouds hanging over our heads and expel any bad blood, but it just wasn't possible.
It had been years since I'd worn this black getup, reserved for funerals and special occasions. They wanted me to read a poem at his funeral, any that fit the mood.
I had one selected from a poetry book I had found at the local "Read & Write" store.
I searched through it, until I found an appropriate poem for the funeral, dog eared it, and left it in the car so I wouldnt' forget it.
I finished tying my black spit shined shoes, then headed out the door.
The church was warmly lit, a violin playing a soft tune. It sounded as if the violin was crying, the gentle broad strokes creating a lyrical whimsical sonnet of it's own. I had always wanted to play violin or piano, but my father had told me only "Fags play those instruments", and never financed one for me when I was 10.
Gwen was waiting for me, looking elegant and darkly beautiful. Her hair was pulled up in a bun, dark eyeliner ecompassed the orbits of her green eyes. The dress was appropriate, a dark crimson, like blood. She saw me, and tried to give me a reassuring smile, but it only brought tears. The funeral hadn't even started, and we already had someone crying!
Ethan was there with Echo, both holding hands ironically. She was wearing black sunglasses and a black dress...black was the new pink today. Ethan was in a grey suit, looking sharper and more professional than me. Always the over achiever.
As more guests filed in to join in the melancholy celebration of the deads life, I snuck out for a smoke. I know, I know, don't smoke until afterwards, but we all grieve in our own way.
I thought I was alone, until Gwen popped up from behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I jumped a little, feeling dumb. My cigarette fell to the ground, and before I could retrieve it, Gwen knelt down and got it for me.
"Thanks."
She nodded with a small smile, but didn't look at me.
"This is probably a dumb question..but what's wrong?" I said sheepishly.
She shrugged, "This doesn't seem real. It doesn't seem right."
I lit up, making sure to blow the smoke over her head and away from her face, "Of course, it's a funeral. If it doesn't hurt, than they didn't matter."
She shot me a narrow eyed look, "Yeah I know, but I mean, you only hear about this kind of thing in the news. I mean, look at Hemingway, he did almost the exact same thing!"
"Yeah, another great one gone. I don't really understand this either."
Before I could go on, Ethan came outside.
"Hey, we're about to start!"
Gwen and I nodded, I snuffed out my cigarette, and we headed in.
I hated funerals, I've been to so many in my life. Family, friends, co-workers, all never easy or enjoyable. Who enjoys a funeral anyway?!
I straightened my tie in the mirror, making sure I did it just right, like my father had taught me.
His story was a morose one, a funeral that confused me. Should I be sad or happy for his passing? I'm sure it's how Echo feels about Hunter. Like me, she was going only to save face with those who loved him the most.
My mother had offered to go with me, but I told her Gwen was going. She was happy about that, seeing how we both connected and were getting along. If only she knew what that girl was capable of.
My fingers gently grazed the pale pink scar imperfecting my left collar bone, trailing all the way to just above my nipple. My father.
I instinctively punched the tiled bathroom wall, making the mirror and toothbrush stand shake.
I sighed heavily, casting out the sick memory and trying to focus on another dead person.
I was even more disappointed with the fact that I didnt' get to talk to Ethan about the whole Hunter scandal before this event. I had wanted to clear up any forboding clouds hanging over our heads and expel any bad blood, but it just wasn't possible.
It had been years since I'd worn this black getup, reserved for funerals and special occasions. They wanted me to read a poem at his funeral, any that fit the mood.
I had one selected from a poetry book I had found at the local "Read & Write" store.
I searched through it, until I found an appropriate poem for the funeral, dog eared it, and left it in the car so I wouldnt' forget it.
I finished tying my black spit shined shoes, then headed out the door.
The church was warmly lit, a violin playing a soft tune. It sounded as if the violin was crying, the gentle broad strokes creating a lyrical whimsical sonnet of it's own. I had always wanted to play violin or piano, but my father had told me only "Fags play those instruments", and never financed one for me when I was 10.
Gwen was waiting for me, looking elegant and darkly beautiful. Her hair was pulled up in a bun, dark eyeliner ecompassed the orbits of her green eyes. The dress was appropriate, a dark crimson, like blood. She saw me, and tried to give me a reassuring smile, but it only brought tears. The funeral hadn't even started, and we already had someone crying!
Ethan was there with Echo, both holding hands ironically. She was wearing black sunglasses and a black dress...black was the new pink today. Ethan was in a grey suit, looking sharper and more professional than me. Always the over achiever.
As more guests filed in to join in the melancholy celebration of the deads life, I snuck out for a smoke. I know, I know, don't smoke until afterwards, but we all grieve in our own way.
I thought I was alone, until Gwen popped up from behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I jumped a little, feeling dumb. My cigarette fell to the ground, and before I could retrieve it, Gwen knelt down and got it for me.
"Thanks."
She nodded with a small smile, but didn't look at me.
"This is probably a dumb question..but what's wrong?" I said sheepishly.
She shrugged, "This doesn't seem real. It doesn't seem right."
I lit up, making sure to blow the smoke over her head and away from her face, "Of course, it's a funeral. If it doesn't hurt, than they didn't matter."
She shot me a narrow eyed look, "Yeah I know, but I mean, you only hear about this kind of thing in the news. I mean, look at Hemingway, he did almost the exact same thing!"
"Yeah, another great one gone. I don't really understand this either."
Before I could go on, Ethan came outside.
"Hey, we're about to start!"
Gwen and I nodded, I snuffed out my cigarette, and we headed in.
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