Rogue

Chapter 14 - Funeral

A/N: Readers, I am so sorry for the long delay in uploading. Although I completed writing Rogue during my school holidays, the next few chapters needed to be edited a little before I was happy enough with it to post. Unfortunately, the hectic first few weeks of my final year of high school got in the way of editing. Now, I am pleased to say that I've managed to do the mini-edit on the last few chapters, and can now upload. Since this is the last time I'll be uploading, I'd like to thank you all so much for all the support and advice I've been given over the months it has taken me to write this. I love you guys! This chapter will be dedicated to the Procrastinators' Thread, where I, surprisingly, wrote most of Rogue. Thanks for all the Word Wars, letting me bounce ideas around, fangirling and just being some of the most awesome people I've had the pleasure of knowing :)

Here's the long awaited conclusion. I hope it is worth the wait!

Chapter 14 – Funeral

Leto tied the belt of Sera’s black dress, numbly adjusting her own dark clothing in the process. Her body felt numb; red, puffy eyes and an ashen complexion were the results of crying the entire night. Brian, not fully grasping the idea that Ouma was gone forever, tugged on her sleeve as he nagged,

“Why do we have to wear this clothing to see Ouma?”

Leto brushed his question aside, squeezing him in a tight hug as she bent down to his level,

“Brian, Ouma has gone to sleep for forever. You won’t be able to speak to her anymore,” she tried to say the words as gently as she could, but fresh grief caught in her throat at each word.

“So why do we have to wear this if Ouma can’t see it?”

“To show we’re sad that Ouma is gone.”

“Oh.”

The street was packed with cars. It seemed as if everyone that Ouma knew turned out to say farewell to her. Holding Sera and Brian’s hands, Leto walked up to the stoep. A few older men stood outside, talking softly between puffs from cigarettes. She nodded in greeting to them and walked through the front door. The house was filled with hushed conversation. The few women who weren’t hurrying about carrying food and tea to the living room, sat absorbed in reciting prayers or discussing Ouma. Unsure of the proceedings, they hung around the passage. For the first time, Leto felt like a stranger in Ouma’s house. She only recognised a few of the people. One of Ouma’s cousins gave her a quick, sympathetic pat on the back, but other than that she went ignored. She stepped into the space between a doorway and the wall, where she’d be out of the mourners’ way. The house felt strange, so full of people she had never seen before. She noticed an unusual, sweetly burnt fragrance in the air and saw that, for some reason, all the reflective surfaces in the house had been covered up with newspaper. A group of women shuffled past her, some of them nodding at her. She wondered if any of them were actually sad that Ouma was gone. None of them showed it.

With Brian and Sera in tow, she wove a path to the kitchen. It was slightly emptier, and she found faces that she recognised even if she couldn’t put a name to them. A kettle, blowing out steam, boiled water for cups of tea. Leto sat at the table – at her place at the table, the place Ouma always set when she visited – and watched the steam rise until it bloomed against the ceiling. It was stranger still; Ouma hardly ever drank tea.

“Here you are,” said someone softly, tapping her shoulder. “My mom said I should look out for you. How are you doing?”

Leto gave Zahra a small smile,

“Not very well....The house is so full of people, but it still feels empty.”

Zahra nodded her head sympathetically,