The Funeral Style

Epilogue

"Aurora my sweet thing, you smell like you just basked in a dead body, Avril your daughter smells like death."

"I've already bathed her twice today."

"Actually, they all smell like death. What have you children been wading in?"

"Aramis threw up under the bed." Bosten said matter-of-factly.

"I did not."

"Yes, you did."

"You're a liar!"

"Then go check under the bed!"

"You guys." I spoke, "Enough."

"Is there really throw up under the bed?" Elias pipes.

Aurora giggles, "Yes." And at the same time, Aramis yells, "No!"

"Enough!" I shout this time, "Just stop. Whatever is under, or on top of the beds, we'll get it in the morning. I'm done. All of you go to sleep."

There was a peaceful quiet for nearly fifteen seconds. The best fifteen seconds of my life. "I'm hot." Boston kicks the blankets off of him, making them pull off of me too.

"Stop it Boston!" Aramis yanks the blankets back up, but Boston kicked them down yet again.

"It's hot!"

"No, it's not!"

"Avril," Elias speaks up, "I'm going to shoot myself. It may be the coward's way out, but at this moment it is the only thing that sounds pleasing."

"Will bury you." Aurora whispers to him, "Will frow flowers in your grave."

"Make sure they are roses, my love."

"Your father is not going to kill himself." I tell Aurora, and send him another glare, "He's only joking." It was evident that Aurora and Elias had a very special bond. She did everything with him, and he certainly did not object.

Though I worried about her, as she was a bit too fascinated in her father's work. I tried to keep the kids away from the funerals we held, but it was difficult when they lived here with us.

"Yes" Elias says with a sigh, as he leans down and kisses his daughter's forehead, "unfortunately, it seems I will live yet another day."

There was another small pocket of silence, where I somehow managed to drift into an uncomfortable but much needed sleep, until I was shaken awake by a small pair of cold hands, "Mom, mom."

"What?"

I look over and see Elias was asleep with Aurora and Aramis holding onto him, and only Boston was awake, staring down at me with wide eyes.

"What is it?" I ask again, and he hops out of bed, "My stomach hurts."

"Run to the bathroom." I speak immediately, and he does so. I dash and follow my son to the bathroom where he only barely makes it toilet before heaving up yellow acid.

I gently rub his back, all exhaustion escaping me as I recall my motherhood, and taking care of my children before I take care of myself.

When he was done, I help him to his feet, "Next time," I tell him, "If you feel sick, you run here."

He nods once, and we return to the bedroom, where he dives under the blankets. I glanced at the clock which read 5:17 in the morning, and frown.

Instead of joining my family in bed, I walk into Aramis and Aurora's room and began to take the blankets off her bed. It seemed I have become immune to the smell of sickness, as I throw the blankets into the basket of clothes and linen that all also had some sort of bodily fluid soaked onto them.