Unknown Emotion

The unusual reaction of a 12 year old girl after a family tragedy happens.

The loudest scream I’ve ever heard makes me jump out of bed with my heart coming out of my throat. Then two other screams follow, though not as loud as the first one. They’re coming from inside the house. I clear my eyes with the palm of my hands, put on my black fluffy slippers and head to the door. I startle myself with my own reflection passing by the mirror. My hair is spiked up on all different directions and I have marks all over my face from the bed sheets. I ignore how bad I look and open the door.

 

Immediately, I hear loud sobbing coming from the living room. I peek through the corner of the wall column next to my room, but don’t see anyone. As I continue walking, the sobbing gets louder and louder, coming from two or three people.

 

I see my mom and two big brothers thrown on the floor sitting in a pool of their own tears in the middle of the living room. Mom has the phone on her hand and my two brothers are hugging her while crying loudly too.

 

“What happened?” I ask, without getting too close.

 

Mom doesn’t look up and continues crying on her elbow while hugging her knees. Robin looks up, leaving his right arm around mom’s shoulders. “What do you think it’s happening you little freak?” his tears don’t hide all the hate on his face. I don’t move, his response doesn’t really answer anything.

 

Robin shakes his head and turns back to face mom. I wait for answers, but they don’t come.

 

“Is it about dad?” I finally ask.

 

The second the words leave my mouth, mom lets out a loud scream and her crying intensifies. Dad went to Spain about two weeks ago to visit his mom; he was supposed to come back a few days ago, but he got really sick and had to be hospitalized. I don’t really know what happened, all they told me was that the doctors were working to make him better because his heart wasn’t working as well as it should.

 

“He’s never coming back, is he?”

 

“What the hell does it look like? Uh? Does it look like we’re just waiting for him to come through that damn door!?” Robin shouts. I’m so used to him talking to me this way that I don’t even care anymore.

 

I’m not sure what I should do. I know it’s expected of me to throw myself on the floor and start crying with them, maybe try and comfort mom in some way like my brothers are trying to do; but I don’t see the point of that, so I just stand here playing with the zipper on my right pocket.

 

“Go to your room, Ashley, you’re just making things worse. You should be old enough to understand what’s happening.” Says Ardell; his voice cracks and he sounds suffocated. “We’ll explain everything to you later, but please go to your room now.”

 

They keep treating me like a little kid and believe I never understand anything even though I’m twelve and perfectly understand these things. They’ve said enough for me to assume that dad is dead. But I don’t argue; instead, I just turn around and go back to my room to finish my interrupted nap.

 

The sun is down by the time I open my eyes, I slept for about 2 hours. It’s almost time for dinner and I’m really hungry, but I’m almost sure mom won’t be in the mood for cooking tonight.

 

After washing up and styling my hair into a decent ponytail, I walk out of my room again only to see that not much has changed. Mom is now lying on the sofa and both my brothers are sitting on the floor in front of it. I’m not sure if they’re awake, but I try to pretend I didn’t see them and walk straight to the kitchen. I guess I’ll just have to heat up a frozen dinner tonight; my hunger will probably make it taste good.

 

I take a frozen stake with mashed potatoes and broccoli, pop it into the microwave and stare at it until it’s done. When I turn around to sit on the table, I almost drop the container at the sight of Ardell looking at me from across the kitchen. “Didn’t hear you walk in.” I say, as I sit on the table. 

 

His face is red and his eye balls look like cherry tomatoes. His face looks as plain as a rock. “Tell me how much of this situation you understand.” He says, sitting on the chair in front of mine.

 

I take a bite of the stake with mashed potatoes and take a moment to respond. “Dad’s dead. I’m not sure if there will be a funeral since we don’t have his body.” I respond and take another big bite of the food. Ardell watches me eat quietly. I try to look away to be less uncomfortable.

 

“Aren’t you sad that we’ll never get to see him again, or hear his voice?” I don’t know, I think to myself. “He’ll never come home again and give us a hug like he always did.” He doesn’t finish his sentence before breaking into sobbing again. It’s weird watching a tall, muscular 15 year old like this. Especially since he’s always the most joyful one in the family. “Please say something”, he says in the middle of his sobbing.

 

I really don’t know what to say. I didn’t even know a person could shed so many tears. Don’t they run out at some point? “It’s not like we’re never going to see him again. Everyone dies. We will too at some point, and then we’ll be wherever he is now, I suppose.” I can’t manage to say anything else with the hopes to cheer him up enough to get him to stop crying. But it seems to actually make things worse.

 

He abruptly stands up, “something is seriously wrong with you, kid”. He heads back to the living room trying to clear his eyes with the back of his hands.

 

Something’s wrong with me? They’re the ones who’ve been shedding tears for like three hours straight; I’m fine, and yet I’m the broken one? Maybe their eyes will explode out of their heads from crying so much. That’d make them see something’s wrong with them, not me. I switch my attention to finishing my meal; not worth getting all angry over this.

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“Honey?” my mom’s raspy voice and her hand shaking my shoulder wake me up. I open my eyes and see her sitting on the side of my bed.

 

“Good morning” I say with a yawn.

 

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay and to tell you that you don’t have to go school until you’re ready. I know how difficult this can be for kids your age. It’s okay if things take some time to get back to normal around here, ok?” Her eyes are shiny and there are dry tear marks all over her face; her skin is pale, even more than usual.

 

“Okay” is all I respond since apparently anything I say is wrong.

 

“How are you feeling?” mom asks.

 

I shrug. I’m not feeling any different than one or two days ago, but I’m sure that’s wrong too, somehow. “Things will be okay eventually” she says after kissing my forehead. She looks into my eyes for a bit and then leaves the room.

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I wish I could switch schools immediately. I missed three days and I guess within that time someone must have notified the teachers that my dad died and they told the students too. I hate how everyone is asking me how I’m doing and telling me how sorry they are. Sorry for what? Did they kill my dad? I don’t think so, so what would they be sorry about? People really don’t make any sense most of the time.

 

The worst part is the disgusted face that Robin looks at me with. I don’t get it. He hated me before, but now it’s like he wishes I was dead instead of dad. He’s probably going to get in trouble if a teacher catches him looking at me like a serial killer. At least he’s going to be done with school in only a few months, then he’ll go off to college and I won’t have to deal with him anymore.

 

Only Ardell is waiting for me at the school door today. We walk home in silence, which I expected. He usually asks about my day and talks about interesting things he saw or learned, but it seems no one has anything to say lately, and I don’t push it.

 

When we arrive to the house, mom surprises me when she comes out of her room. I’ve barely seen her since Sunday.

 

“The arrangements are all set for the funeral. It’s going to be next Monday afternoon, at 2 o’clock. You’ll have to leave school early, please make sure you’re ready on time.” She says staring at the floor and then walks back to the room. Her voice sounds like her vocal cords abandoned her.

 

Ardell heads to his room too and I follow to go to mine. He stops halfway, “by the way, you’re supposed to wear all black to a funeral. And make sure you wear nice clothes.” He says turning to me and then resumes his way to his room.  

 

I’ve never been to a funeral. But by what I’ve seen on TV a few times when mom is watching shows, everyone has to wear black; I think the point of it is for everyone who knew the diseased person to attend and look at them one last time. How long does a body last in good condition? I don’t think anyone would like to see a decomposing body, no matter who from. It’d be pretty disgusting. Funerals are always referenced as a very quiet place too, so I imagine that people don’t talk to each other there. Makes me wonder what they’re supposed to do the whole time then.

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Dad’s sister, Michelle, picks us up to take us to the funeral. She was doing all the arrangements since mom is not back to normal yet. She’s barely doing anything. We arrive after around 40 minutes, in which no one said a single word. 

 

I feel uncomfortable already. My dad was too friendly, this place is absolutely crowded. Everyone looks at us when we arrive; some people tap my mom and brother’s shoulder and nod, but my mom is looking straight at the floor. Looking at everyone else, at least I don’t feel as odd on this black dress with long sleeves. Every girl here is wearing something similar too.

 

The coffin with dad in it is on the other end of the room. Not many people are near it. Mom and my siblings will have lots of people to greet or something, I suppose, so I’m sure they won’t need me around until we leave. I walk towards the coffin and everyone looks at me while I walk pass them. I try to ignore them and continue walking.

 

Almost close enough to see my dad, someone grabs my shoulder to stop me. It’s a middle-aged woman with red hair, pointy nose and thin body. I don’t recognize her.

 

“Are you sure you want to see him?” She asks, looking into my eyes. I shrug. “I’m a close friend from his, met him at work some years ago and never remotely imagined we would be where we’re now.” She takes her hand off my shoulder and stares at the coffin, letting out a loud sigh, then turns to me. “Looking at him today will be the hardest thing you will have endured on your short life.” I don’t respond, I don’t see how this will be hard, he’s right there and my eyes work properly, so what would be the hard part? I don’t feel like asking. “He talked about you a lot, you know,” She continues, “How you’re very mature and tough for your age.“ She half smiles at me. “You have a friend in me when you need one after seeing your father. Go on now, I won’t stop you if you’re ready.”

 

Her words echo in my head, but I can’t make sense of it. Maybe I’ll understand when I see him. Maybe I’ll feel the same my brothers and mom feel. But that doesn’t make sense because they seemed to be crying irrationally, and I’m not irrational.

 

I finally get close enough to see him. He’s wearing a shiny black tux with a rose on his front pocket. It surprises me how he looks almost like he still has life in him; even his brown shiny hair is flawless. But it’s clear that he’s wearing a lot of make up to look so well. Still, he looks as handsome as he always has. And seeing him feels exactly the same as it has always felt. I remain without understanding why this should be hard for me, or anyone else for that matter. 

 

Author's Note

Hope you enjoyed! Any constructive feedback is much appreciated :).