Objects of Virtue

Chapter 08

"Yea, let's go mate, thank you – truly. For everything Liam," Louis said, wrapping his arms around Liam in a warm embrace, one that Louis needed much more than he knew.

"Of course Lou, you're like my brother mate – you don't need to thank me," Liam said as he let go of Louis and walked with him to the car that was waiting by the front door.

The drive to the funeral home was quiet. Each lost in their own thoughts, the girls silently scrolling through their phones, dabbing at their eyes from time to time, mopping up the stray tears that fell from time to time. It was obvious the twins were affected the most. They were the youngest after all and also the closest to their father. Mark had a soft corner for the girls, one that he tried his best to hide, but sometimes it shone through. He'd sneak in little treats, little candies under their pillows when they were asleep, matching hair pins to hold up their long brown locks, little things that he never allowed himself to shower his older children with. Maybe it was age that softened him, but Louis was glad that at least the twin were able to feel the warmth of Mark's occasional attention and silent displays of love. It was not that he and Charlotte were mistreated by any means, but Mark always seemed to distance himself from them. Louis remembered the day Jay came back from the hospital with Lottie. She was a pink little thing, wrapped up tightly in a beautiful pink muslin cloth, her eyes scrunched shut, her cheeks rolling up against her nose. She smelt like Louis imagined love would smell like if it had a smell. It was a new smell to him. So warm and fresh, sweeter smelling than the roses that blossomed in summer, it made his heart bunch up in his chest, like it was about the explode. The feeling was instantaneous. From the second he laid eyes on Lottie, he knew he'd lay down his very life for the little squirming bundle that lay asleep, blissfully in his mother's arms.

Mark however, was indifferent. He held Lottie momentarily, smiled with the rest of the family that had gather to welcome the newest addition, poured himself a cup of tea and ate a biscuit, and then excused himself, retreating to the confines of the study, whilst the visitors dwindled down and no one was left in the living room but little Louis, Jay and the sleeping baby. It was just the three of them thereafter. Mark would make his appearance for dinner. Conversation was stilted, it was a formal affair. Louis never complained. He didn't know any different. It would be a few years before he met Liam. He was content in his little world of just mum and Lottie – his precious, precious baby sister. They were all he needed.

The car came to a halt outside the funeral home, an elegant and understated building baring the name E.H. Crouch above the entrance. Taking a deep breath, Louis stepped out of the car and opened the door for his sisters. Liam stepped forward and ushered the girls in allowing Louis to follow closely behind. They were the first to arrive and the three of them made their way towards the Chapel Of Rest. Liam had chosen well. The coffin was a subdued dark brown, elegant and well suited. Candles shone dimly against the beige of the wall, a wreath of white flowers against a deep green stood at the foot of the coffin. It seemed as if Liam had handpicked each of these things, Father would be pleased.

Louis made his way over to the coffin, a lump in his throat. Didn't know if he was ready to see Father. Clenched fists, he moved forward and he was met with the sight of his father, laying serenely against the pure white satin fabric. He looked peaceful. His hair swept back, his features still. The frown on his face was smoothened out and, in its place, was stillness. Here was the man that Louis tried so hard to please. Each molecule of his being vied to be able to bring this look of peace to his face. Louis always had failed. But where he had failed, on numerous occasions, death had flawlessly succeeded. The lump in his throat was rising and the burning behind his eyes were attacking his senses. Tears were threating to spill down Louis' face. It took every ounce of his self-control to push his emotions back behind the dam that he had constructed years ago, the ones that were now cracking and falling apart. There were emotions Louis didn't need to deal with right now, doubt, self-doubt being the biggest of them. Today was important. Today was not the day to fall apart. Today he needed to be strong. Slipping out of the parlor and onto the street outside, Louis fiddled in his pockets searching for a cigarette. Finding one he struggled unsuccessfully with his lighter, hands cold and trembling, his entire nervous system was on edged. After strings of cussing, and multiple failed attempts at making a flame stick, Louis finally lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply, his lungs aflame.