SWIM // MITCHEL CAVE

(II) 16- cry

Jaz's POV

It all happened so fast. One minute I was laughing at Mitchel attempting to braid Jesse's hair and the next Mitchel was hastily throwing things around trying to find his laptop. I didn't know who phoned and when he dropped it to the ground, I knew that whatever had just been said to him, wasn't good.

So many questions, some answered and some left to hang in the air. The flight to Australia felt like a lifetime and I had never seen Mitchel's hand fidget so much. Clinton wasn't taking it particularly well either, he was always a man of few words but now he was just completely silent, the only time a noise would leave his body was when the tears came rolling down his cheek.

I didn't even want to think about the hospital and everything that proceeded us walking into the harsh white entrance. It was all too familiar, to close to home and repeating it again was something I didn't know if I cope with. But I had to; for Mitchel. He needed me and I had to be there for him.

It had been three days since we received the tragic news of her passing and Mitchel wasn't doing well, to say the least. He had taken it upon himself to hide away in his room, coming down only occasionally for more alcohol. Nobody ever said anything about it because well how could we? He was grieving and coping in the only way he knew how. He wouldn't speak to me or anyone, he had become mute. You could try talking to him but he wouldn't reply, he would simply stare at you blankly and walk away again.

I was worried for him and I know everyone else was too and I knew that with each day we allowed him to soak his sadness in liquor, the more dangerous this could get. He still wouldn't eat either, no matter how many times I brought food up on a tray and left it outside his door.

Cat and I were doing our best to help everyone in the house. It wasn't just Mitchel that was suffering, they all were. Clinton and Taylor were still distraught and I felt terrible for Brian but he was trying to put on a brave face for his sons. Relatives would come round pretty frequently and so silence never really had the chance to take over. I had lost count of the amount of teas and coffee's I had made people but I didn't mind at all, it gave me something to do as Mitchel didn't want to talk to me.

"Any better?"

I look over at Christian who had asked the question for lack of better words to say. Mitchel didn't seem to be getting better anytime soon and so the question was just another thing for me to shrug at.

Christian and I hadn't talked about the incident from before and we didn't need to, it wasn't important now. Any hostility Christian has resided for me or Mitchel had dissipated because as much as he didn't think so, he was a great friend and he knew that Mitchel needed the support from him at this time.

"Should I go speak to him?" He asks.

"He won't speak to anyone" I sigh.

The funeral was in two days and people were coming to the house to make arrangements and I told Mitchel he should come down, to help pick out flowers or a song to play. He simply stared at me, his eyes averting to the floor and then he closed the door again.

I see Christian eye the empty bottles taking over the recycling bin that I had meant to take out earlier but I hadn't because I got distracted making lunch for all the boys.

"Maybe we should hide the rest of the alcohol" Christian suggests nodding over to the stacked cupboard.

"He'll just go out and buy more" I shrug.

I would much rather he take the drink that was in here than have him wander outside to god knows where only to end up somewhere where I might not be able to help him.