The Fight

Chapter 1

My eyes were glued to the body in the open coffin. Her skin looked nothing like ivory. Her skin appeared to be an alabaster gray. She looked nothing like her. This corpse looked unrecognizable.

She looked nothing like my mother.

I held onto my twelve year old little sister, making sure her hand never left mine.

"That looks nothing like Mom," Lily commented. Looking at her, I noticed a very calm expression. I didn't see grief, or sadness. Nothing but a calm facade I was waiting to transition into every dark feeling in the book.

"Lily," I started, "when a person dies, they're prepared for their funeral with the help of a mortician. They're meant to clean up the body and prepare it to look lively, but I'm guessing he went overboard." Lily nodded, without even looking at me. She understood, but stayed quiet.

"Elise," that familiar voice called my name. I didn't know whether to feel angry or just stand there.

"Hi Dad," my voice replied in a dull monotone.

I looked up at him, finally leaving the sight of my mother in her coffin, and took in his face. He was holding back. I could see the way his jaw locked and unlocked, and he tried too hard to keep a steady breath, for he'd fall apart any second now.

"How's everything?" my dead voice asked. He smiled through the tears, but quickly dropped the smile and pulled me to him as he cried into my shoulder. My arms lightly wrapped themselves around him, but I couldn't reciprocate the tears and sobs at the moment. Not having seen my own father in person for nearly four years has turned him into a stranger.

My parents divorced about four years ago, when I was thirteen. Lily was only eight when this happened. Let's just say it hasn't been too easy ever since.

He pulled away and quickly composed himself, gazing at my little sister. "Hey there Lily. How's my baby girl?" he asked her. She smiled a ghost of a smile, "Hi, Daddy."

I turned back towards the coffin. In an odd way, I was proud of the way she turned out. My mom never wanted a traditional black dress for her funeral. She had always loved red and thought it was classy, so I picked out a flattering red dress for her to be buried in.

You'd look so much better in that dress if you were still alive, I thought as I inhaled a sharp breath. 

~

As soon as we entered the house, I ran up to my bedroom and shut the door, getting ready for bed.

A sudden knock came at the door.

"Come in," my monotone voice consented. My dad came in, sitting down on my bed.

"Honey, you'll need to pack your things. You're going be moving tomorro-" he was cut off by me. "Already done. I figured I'm moving somewhere else so I got it all done. Lily's stuff is packed, too."

He sighed, but continued, "You and Lily are coming back to California to live with me."

I knew this dreadful day was coming, so I simply nodded.

"Anything you want to talk about?" he asked. I stood up and picked up the clothes off the floor.

"You should probably take her car," I shrugged.

He nodded and walked out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

California seems to be a state everyone enjoys. Lots of sun, lots of beaches. It's a magical state, apparently. I can't help but loathe it with everything in me.

~

My mom's proper funeral was today. She was in a crypt, rather than the ground. I felt better knowing she wouldn't be in the ground. She'd be inside beautiful stone, resting.

As the priest finished his prayers for her, her closed casket was covered by plastic. I stepped up, and let drops of holy water fall all over. My dad and Lily went next, and next thing I knew, she was placed inside her crypt.

I was lucky to have brought some black Ray Bans to conceal the sudden pain in my eyes.

I placed Mom's favorite bouquet in a vase and set it next to her crypt, which was an arrangement of tiger lilies, roses, calla lilies, and tulips with tons of baby's breath. I walked swiftly to my car, trying to fight the sobs creeping into my chest.

I shut the door and layed my head on the steering wheel, wishing for anything but this.

~

Dad found me ten minutes later, and decided it was time to go.

I sighed and let myself listen to the music blasting in my car as I made my way back, following Dad and Lily to California. The moving truck was right behind me.

I don't know what life's going to be like to live there again. History can't repeat itself, that's for sure.

(Photo of Lily will be on the right.)