Chapter 28

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The funeral parlour is a short walk from the station. I grab one of the gold handle bars on the black double doors, then hesitate. The cold metal begins to numb my hand but still I cannot move. Hunter waits patiently, neither comforting nor encouraging me. I appreciate his silence as I grapple with my reservations. Eventually the fear of others arriving behind me overcomes my fear of moving forward, and I push the heavy door open.

A member of the staff greets me and, on being informed that I'm the daughter of the deceased, directs me into the room where my father's body rests. It is bright and open, with chairs and small tables lining the walls for those who need them. A couple of large armchairs loom near the front of the room, close to the casket. They are presumably for the family. No one else is present. Well, except for my dad.

My attention is fixed on the oblong black box resting to the right. In front of it is a picture of my father, a recent one that I don't recognize. Most people would see that easy-going smile as evidence of a happy, amicable man. Many had described him that way: a laid-back joker, the social butterfly, such a nice guy. Even now that smile makes me sick to my stomach and I remember how quickly it could evaporate, leaving nothing but hatred and disgust in its wake. I remember the veiled threats and demeaning jokes that often accompanied it after a couple of drinks.

"Should we maybe pay our respects before everyone arrives?" Hunter asks quietly, his voice still managing to echo in the empty space. "If you want to see him, I mean."

I don't reply, only swallow and take a slow step forward. It takes an eternity to walk the six steps to the casket. When I look down at his peaceful face I begin to doubt everything – my memories of him and the choices I made. Was he really that bad? Did I make his last days more painful because I wasn't there?

I feel dizzy and I wish Hunter would reach out for me. I wish he'd wrap his arms around me, or hold my hand, or even just stand a little bit closer. I feel so alone with this flurry of emotions and memories that I want to scream out to any one who will listen. Instead, tears pour from my eyes and I find my breaths coming in ragged and shallow gasps.

"Selene...?"

I turn, surprised by this new voice. My mother stands in the doorway, a bundle of blood red roses balanced in her arms. She lays them carefully on one of the tables then rushes over and embraces me tightly, almost violently. Once I recover from the surprise I wrap my arms around her shoulders, sobbing into her neck.

"I've missed you so much, Mom" I manage through the tears, "I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry too," she says, "I should have called you back. I didn't know what to tell you. I was scared you wouldn't even want to come."

"Of course I came. I love you Mom," I pull away and begin wiping the tears from my cheeks. I notice Hunter standing a few steps away, his eyes respectfully downcast. His presence is so small I wonder if my mother has even noticed him.

"When he was in the hospital, I should have told you. You could have come and said goodbye. You would have done that, right? I wish you could have made amends at the end. Apologized." The look she gives me is almost chastising.

"No, Mom. I'm not sorry about what happened. If I had come I might have caused him more pain at the end. And me too," I gauge her expression as I speak, watching her brows knit closer and closer together, her lips pursing tighter.

"He was your father, you should have been there to hold his hand while he lay in that hospital bed."

"Mom, he wasn't a father to me," I know I should stop but I feel the familiar anger and frustration rising, "It would have been a lie."

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