Unfinished

Three

"Mom?" Soren asked, leaning on the door frame to her room.

"Yes, honey?"

"Becca's dead." She already knew, the neighbors had told her as soon as she'd gotten home. But he told her anyway. He wasn't sure why.

She looked up at him, swiping hair out of her eyes as she did so. "I know, Soren. I'm sorry." She looked away, and spoke again, softer this time, the words not meant for his ears. "She was such a sweet little girl, so loving and lovely. She had a million stories to tell you and a million ways to make you laugh. And then her parents went and broke her, and there was nothing I could do. Nothing I could do that I didn't. I wasn't her mother. My words and actions didn't mean as much, or were negated by her family. What else could I have done?"

Soren walked over and hugged his mother, and she returned it. In the moment he wasn't sure who was comforting who. Maybe they were both being comforters, and maybe that was the same as not being comforted. But he felt better than he had before, so it must work to some degree. Perhaps it was a better comfort than he could have gotten if his mother had been the sole comforter. Perhaps knowing that your grief was shared made it easier to stop crying while still remembering. Perhaps having to comfort someone other than himself was letting him have respite from grief, if only for a moment. It didn't really matter why it worked, so long as it did.

There was a funeral, of course. Soren and his family went, but Becca's family didn't. Her mother was there, her hair done up nicely, and her makeup immaculate. Soren hated her. Becca's older brother was there, too. He was in his early twenties and had just graduated college. Soren didn't know what he'd majored in. The brother, Zach if Soren remembered correctly, looked awful. His hair was messed up where he'd run his hands through it and his eyes were red. He, at least, looked like he'd cared for his sister. Soren didn't hate him. He decided to wait for further information before he formed an opinion.

After the funeral all Soren wanted was to go home, but Zach came up to him.

"Hey. You're Soren, right?"

Soren nodded.

"Look, my sister," Zach looked away, swallowing hard. "My sister cared about you. I think you were the closest thing she had to a friend. So," Zach shrugged. "I guess what I'd like to say is thank you. For being there for her when I couldn't be. For being her friend." Zach looked away, looked back, flashed and almost - smile. Then he walked away. Soren just watched, finally settling his opinion of Zach Weaver. He was a pretty decent guy.

Back at home, Soren went straight to his room. He looked at his bookcase, sighed, and pulled the manuscript, which he had bound in a plastic folder like you did with important school papers, down from the top shelf. He shouldn't be reading it, it wasn't his. But maybe it was. Becca seemed to have given to him, hadn't she? And anyway, she wasn't here anymore. Which was an awful thing to think, but was nevertheless true. He gave in and opened to where he left off.
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Hey, thanks for reading this. It means the world to me.

- Ellie