✔ DRUNK words, SOBER thoughts ✖ hemmings au

37: Angel Wings

ARI.

I forgot what it felt like to smile. Did those muscles still work? Was I capable to lift my lips into a grin that spoke volumes in bliss? Would I be able to do it without forcing myself; to smile because it felt good and all was good? I hoped to God that I could. I didn't think I'd be able to stop crying, but after 5 days my tear ducts hit a dry spell and all I seemed to have the energy to do was breath.

But even that was difficult.

Saturday morning came around and I didn't even know. It wasn't until my mom shuffled into my room, her featherlike steps of bare feet to carpet trickled into my ears. I was lying on my side, facing the wall and repeatedly drawing pictures in my mind, using the textured stucco to inspire me. I felt her warm, gentle touch on my shoulder, her signature scent of peonies and citrus wafting into my nostrils like a spring day.

"Anak," she began, her voice smooth in my ears, "time to wake up. Go shower, have some breakfast."

(translation: child)

I didn't budge. I continued to stare aimlessly at the white wall before me, blocking out the softness in my mother's voice, all while my mind violently thrashed a crescendo of untapped pain. I still felt numb-- lacerated and withered.

"Ari, come on now," mom continued, her voice never increasing in decibels or frustration. "It'll be a long day. Brayson is waiting for you."

The funeral.

I closed my eyes, deep in concentration as if some how I could magically create a force field that could freeze me in time; freeze everything around me so I didn't have to move forward. I could barely get out of bed to use the bathroom, never mind the idea of stepping out into the frigid, December air to attend a service of someone I so deeply cared about. It would make it more real. The evidence would surround me; suffocating and mocking me, shouting straight to my soul that Brayson Cole was no longer with me.

"I have your dress laid out on your chair," mom informed.

I felt the bed dip, the creaking of the mattress filling my ear. Her warm hand rubbed my back and I could feel my mom try to ebb the ache with the simple gesture. After a few moments, the mattress softly moved again, and a flush of cold glazed the area where my mom's gentle touch once was. The door closed with a light click and once again, I was all alone.

Buzz. Buzz.

Turning over in my bed, I reached my hand out to seize my phone off of the bedside table. I glanced at the glowing screen in my hand, sighing at the preview of several messages before tossing it aside.

From: Bandana Boy 🙈 - 10:06AM
Miss you. I'm still here if you want to talk. Love you bestie.

From: Favorite Asian 👲 - 9:37AM
I'll see you later. I miss you lots Ari. Love you always bestie.

From: Sis 👯 - 8:00AM
Baby love, I'll see you at home. Hang in there. I love you.

From: Jasey Lopes 👸 - 3:34AM
Sean & I toasted to Brayson tonight. Love you beautiful. See you.

I didn't show it, but I was beyond grateful for my friends and family. The last few days, I was graced with several visitors baring chicken nuggets and Starbucks. Everyone attempted to bring me out of my funk; hoping that the ongoing slew of junk food and caffeinated libations would somehow trigger the want to fight for happiness. Everyone came by to see me in my most vulnerable state - everyone but the one person whom I expected to be at my bedside.