The Funeral Style

Chapter Two

"Thanks." I said with a fake smile, "But I think I can escort myself."

"I never said you couldn't." He grabbed my arm and intertwined it with his, it happened so fast I couldn't reject, "But, do allow me for these few hours I have with you all, to be your host, properly. I'm not here to just stand around, or to be rejected by a mourning teenager. I insist on you allowing me to care for all of your needs." For a moment his voice lowered, and then quickly he smiled again as I slowly nodded my head.

He was really freaky, and I didn't fancy the idea of getting into a heated argument with him.

We both began to walk back to the building where everyone else was. The path up to it was of marble. It seemed to sparkle as what the clouds hadn't covered of the sun, shone on it.

I could feel his grip wound my arm tighten the closer we got to the building, as if he didn't want to let go. I began to feel a bit nervous as it started to hurt. I was definitely going to have a bruise later.

"Do you enjoy burying people, Mr. Parity?" I asked, just so we both didn't have to suffer through the awkward silence, though, thinking about it, he probably didn't care.

"I enjoy setting them free." He replied almost instantly, "Did you enjoy the ceremony?"

I glanced up at him, his ribs seemed to suddenly poke out in his wide shirt, it was bizarre. "You make is sound like we were celebrating her death."

"In ways, that's what a funeral is, my dear."

"We're in mourning." I said, my turn to sound cold, "I would give anything to have her back."

"Would you really?"

"Yes, I would. Surely you must understand the feeling of losing someone."

"Of course." He said after a moment of silence, "I've buried every loved one I had here. I spend every moment of everyday trying to make this place worth it for them, and look at it." He gazed around large cemetery as if it were his pride and joy. "It is divine."

"Divine enough that only beautiful people can be buried here?"

"Of course. I believe in spirits, and I don't want any ugly ones." He looked disgusted at the thought.

"So you're saying your whole family was beautiful?" This man was surely a narcissist.

He sighed, "I suppose not, but; if you love someone so much, I believe you get blinded by their limited beauty, and to me, that feeling is charming enough, wouldn't you say so?"

"Of course." 

He smiled at my reply, but said nothing more. Two of the maid-like servants opened the doors for us, as they then bowed to him like he was some sort of master to them.

I didn't comment on them just for the sake of not reviving another long and useless conversation.  We both walked in, and I was greeted with the dreadful sight of people hugging on my parents, while my mother was crying and my father looked irritated, but that was only because he didn't like to cry in front of anyone. I could tell this was particularly hard for him.

They were sucking up all the attention, because that's what they loved.

I accidentally made a sound of disgust, and Mr. Parity smiled at me. "Not a fan of the grieving process?" He asked.

"My parents like the attention. They are full of themselves. They, I'm certain of it, are loving this."

"That's a strong statement."

"You don't know them like I do."

"I know that right now they need you. They just lost a daughter, from what I assume, she might have been the favorite. You can go redeem yourself to them."

"Excuse me?"

"I know what it's like the be the least favorite." He frowned, "You're never going to get the love you desire." He let go of my arm, and made his way over to my mother. She looked up at him, tears big in her eyes, he held out his hand, and she gladly took it. He pulled her up from the seat she sat, and caressed her face. 

He was saying something to her, but I was to far away to hear it.

I knew now that it was all an act. His whole personality was an act. He didn't care about anyone, inside he was just a pissed off man. A disgusting one at that.

Who was he to say I wasn't loved? He didn't even know me or my family.

I crossed my arms stubbornly, and walked over to my father. I hugged him as tight as I could, and realized at that moment that I had never felt my father hug me so tight before.

Like he actually wanted to hug me.