The Internship

Chapter Thirteen

A/N The poem that I use in this chapter is NOT mine. It is "21" by Patrick Roche and I added a video of him reading it. It is absolutely amazing and fit Mitch's story. I only changed one part of it to fit this storyline better, but again it's not mine and I'm not trying to take credit for it.

"Do I look alright?" Mitch asked.

"When do you not look perfect?" I asked back.

He blushed. "So this is okay? Not too casual? Oh who am I kidding all of them already hate me."

"Your dad was the douche and you look perfect, okay?"

"Okay."

We were getting ready for Mitch's father's funeral. He was extremely nervous because by now, everyone that would be there knew what happened and hated him for it. But it was Mr. Grassi's own damn fault that he drank more than four adults combined.

He'd asked me to come with him and I was more than happy and honored. We had flown to Texas. He slept the whole way there and somehow his head had ended up on my shoulder, but I'm not complaining.

We weren't sharing a hotel room, I wished we were, but technically we weren't even together. Just friends shoving our feelings down.

Mitch was wearing black skinny jeans and a black button up shirt with a black tie. I was wearing a suit, simply because I wanted to impress his family. His father meant nothing to me.

"I'm scared to speak. Why would they ask me to speak if they hate me?"

"You are his son, Mitch."

"Bullshit. He would've gotten rid of me if he could've."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore. Let's just go this funeral and get it over with, okay? Then we can come back and it'll just be us," I said.

"That sounds amazing. Can I have a hug for good luck?"

He came to my arms before I could answer, but we both knew I'd never say no.

"Come on let's go," he said after pulling away from the hug. "Let's celebrate this bastard's life."

-----

Everyone was glaring at Mitch. It was the most uncomfortable situation I've ever been in, and the glares weren't even for me.

We sat in the front row with Mitch's mother. She didn't even acknowledge Mitch. That seemed to strike something deep down, it was written all over his face.

When we all went to walk by the casket, Mitch whispered something in his father's ear. I wanted to know, hell I bet everyone in there did, but it was most definitely private and intended to stay between him and his father.

We sat down and they began talking about Mitch's father. Making him out to be this saint. It disgusted me.

People talked and most of their speeches were sweet, even if they were talking about a different person. Mitch's father was not the man in those speeches.

Then it came time for Mitch to speak.

"Hello everyone." He looked around to receive unwelcoming faces and nonexistent smiles.

"I know that today is not a good day and that you think it was caused by me. And I am in no way trying to make my mistake any less severe but you saw the tests, heard the doctors, he was drunk. He ran out in front of my car. It could've been any of you. I am mourning too but on a further level because I hold a guilt that none of you can imagine, I do not need your behavior towards me on top of that."