Dean P.O.V.
I wasn't getting enough sleep.
In some cases, that wasn't necessarily true. It had been a week since Scarlett died, and in that time I had three nights without sleep then slept an entire day, went another two nights without sleep but crashed out for a couple of hours this morning.
Grieving was exhausting but my body wouldn't let me rest. I knew there wasn't a right way to do it but I didn't know how to mourn. I did know that a lot of time I felt empty. Numb. But then there were other times where I had never experienced pain like this, and my heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest and everything ached and I felt as though I could be sick.
When I wasn't sleeping, I was either fidgeting, crying, talking to Jack or Daniel or just staring into space. On the nights where I didn't sleep, I spent the hours in the early sunrise planning the funeral. At first when it came to arranging it, Daniel, our mother and I with Jack sitting next to me sat around the table to discuss it, but sooner or later their responsibility diminished and now it was just me doing it all with Jack putting in a contribution every now and then.
I sighed, sticking my foot out of the duvet and regretting it immediately when it was met with the cold air. Jack, who was sleeping, stayed oblivious to my conscious self. He was lying flat on his back and my head was on his chest, my arm bent at the elbow so the tips of my fingers were just below his shoulder. I listened to his breaths for a while, hoping it would make me tired enough to sleep, but when our part of the world started brightening and a soft light began to illuminate the room, I gave up and climbed over Jack and got out of bed (we were sleeping in my bed because being on the sofa felt too weird), pulling my dressing gown on before heading downstairs.
The kitchen wasn’t bright enough because of the closed blinds at the window, so I shut the door and turned on the harsh stare of the main light and sat at the table which was full of scattered sheets of paper with notes on them. I grabbed one at random and stared down at it.
‘Flowers’ it said at the top of the page with the rest of it blank. Flowers. Where you have flowers at a funeral?
It felt like such an obvious question but I couldn’t work out the answer. I had only been to one funeral in my life, but that was a couple of years ago and I didn’t remember it well. I thought maybe that should’ve been the opposite and I should be able to recall every little detail, but I couldn’t.
"Dean? What're you doing?" Jack mumbled, his eyes squinting. I didn’t even hear him come down the stairs because I was too focused on thinking about flowers and where they should be.
"Planning. I can't sleep."
Jack pulled a chair up next to mine as close as he could get it and sat down on it, putting an arm around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder.
"Come back to bed, Dean. You don't have to do this now."
"I'm not tired. What colours should the flowers be?"
"Lots of different colours, she liked colourful things. I think you should ban the black theme too, or at least everyone should wear something pink."
“Good idea,” I wrote down what he said and put the pen back down, feeling restless. “I don’t want it to be a huge funeral, just a small one. She didn’t like being around a lot of people,” Jack let out a noise as a reply and I took it as an excuse to carry on. “I wish it was me that got the cancer instead of her. She didn’t deserve to die.”
“Neither do you,” Jack said, sitting up. “Look at me, Dean,” I turned my head and I didn’t even realise I was crying until he placed his hand on the side of my face and his thumb wiped away a tear. “I know it hurts so much right now and I’m not going to say it’s ever going to stop hurting, but we’ll do amazing things one day. Who knows, we might even be flown to America,” he paused to chuckle. “But we’ve got so much to look forward to, you’ll see.”
He didn’t promise that, but sounded like one. And gave me a bit of hope that my blurry future would turn into something after all.
-
“I want to see her,” I blurted out suddenly. “I want to Scarlett before the funeral.”
“Are you sure?” Jack asked, eyebrows raised a little. I nodded and started chewing on lip. I felt ready, but a little doubt started to creep in. “When?”
“Today, while I’m up for it. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
“You can’t go alone, and I said I’d support you through anything, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, trailing off. I started to daydream again about what it would be like. I wasn’t sure if seeing her lifeless would be worse than actually holding her while she passed, but I supposed it didn’t really matter. “I’ll go ask Daniel if he wants to come.”
I got up off the sofa and went upstairs, feeling a stab of guilt when I walked past Scarlett’s room. The door was closed, because it much too painful to have it open. There wasn’t much shade difference between the door and the colour of the walls, so if you tried enough, the door blended in and the room didn’t exist.
I liked going in there though. I went in her room every day to just sit in the corner because it’s where I felt closest to her. I didn’t ever touch anything though so it was just how she left it – dolls across the floor, bed unmade, brush and hair accessories strewn along her desk.
Every now and then I would feel a presence, but I didn’t ever tell anyone this. Assuming it could only be my sister, I would talk to her through mutters so no one could hear. It was like our little private time and it was precious to me. She wouldn’t ever respond but I could imagine how she would reply.
We’re okay, we miss you so much but we’re okay. We love you, I would her tell just before she left. I had grown increasingly tempted to tell someone what I was doing, but I was scared that no one else had the ability to communicate with her and wouldn’t understand and would just send me off to the doctor. I knew it sounded crazy, so even though I had the urge to talk about it, I just kept my mouth shut.
“Dan?” I walked into our room and saw him sitting on the window ledge, gazing outside. He had his earphones in and I could faintly hear what he was listening to, so it wasn’t a surprise when he didn’t hear me. So I didn’t make him jump I walked up to the window and when he saw me, he took out an earphone and looked at me without a word. “I’m going to go see-” but before I could finish what I was saying he was shaking his head and was teary-eyed.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to. I mean, I want to see her, but… not like that, Dean. I can’t.”
“I’m not going to make you. We still have a few days before the funeral. If you change your mind, just let me know, okay?” He nodded and looked back out the window and I wondered what he was thinking about. But I didn’t question and instead just rubbed his arm soothingly for a moment and then picked up one of Jack’s hoodies and put it on as I walked to the bathroom and stood in front of the sink, looking into the mirror opposite.
I looked a mess. My hair was sticking up at all angles and I looked pale and sick with greyish circles under my eyes that looked empty. You could see how they drooped too – it gave away the information about my lack of sleep. I was sad and miserable and it was written all over my face but mainly showed through my lips where the edges just pointed downwards.
-
“How can you bear to look at me?” I moaned to Jack just before we were leaving. “I’m so gross, and I’m annoying and grumpy and miserable all the time. Why do you do it?” I buried my face in my hands afterwards, suddenly feeling embarrassed that I let it all out.
“Hey hey hey, where’s all this come from?” Jack wrapped his arms around my middle from behind. He was warm and it was a nice change from me that was clammy a lot of the time.
“I just looked in the mirror for the first time in four days.”
“And? You don’t look gross, you’re beautiful to me.”
“You need your eyes checked.”
“I already have glasses.”
“Use them.”
“They’re only for reading, otherwise I can see perfectly fine. Can you stop putting yourself down, please? Everything you’re saying about yourself is lies.”
“No it’s not.”
“Have a bath or shower later and you’ll feel better. You need a good sleep too.”
“But I can’t sleep.”
“I’ll make you.”
“Okay,” I mumbled, feeling defeated. I turned around so I could hug him properly and he rocked me from side to another for a minute. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” And he managed to make me smile for a minute when he kissed me on the cheek.
-
I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to this now.
“Wait,” I pulled on Jack’s hand to keep him back. “In the minute. I’m not ready yet.”
The last time I had seen Scarlett was when we were at home and she had fallen asleep ever so peacefully to never wake up again. The shirt that she last clung onto was tucked away in the wardrobe at home since I couldn’t bring myself to wash it. I didn’t know why.
It’s now or never. I knew that if I spent too much time thinking about it I’d chicken out of it and not see her at all. So I took hold of Jack’s hand and squeezed it then with a nod we walked into the funeral home.
“We’re here to see Scarlett Dobbs, I’m her brother,” I told the receptionist at the desk.
“Right, okay,” she replied with a happy tone. Maybe she was a little too positive for working here. She stood up and we followed her to the other side of the room and pushed open a door, holding it open to us. It led to a corridor that was narrow with red carpet and was lit by a couple of lights on the wall. “She’s resting in here.” She unlocked the first door on the right and held it open without going in, giving us a sympathetic smile.
“Thank you.”
The moment I stepped into the room, I knew I wouldn’t ever be able to take my eyes off Scarlett. Suddenly I didn’t know what to say. Everything I spent the bus journey rehearsing in my head was forgotten as I walked over the coffin where she laying.
The body looked nothing like my sister at all. She was paler than what I was used to seeing and her skin was tainted with a greyish colour. Her hair had been brushed so it was perfect and she seemed to be smaller than what I remembered, so her favourite pink dress that I picked out was a little too big.
But nevertheless, I let go of Jack and wrapped my hand around Scarlett’s. It was stiff and the fingers were locked in place and in comparison, I was warm and her skin was cool like when I last held her.
“Hey Scar, it’s Dean. I know you’re not here… but I wanted to see you one last time. You must be an angel now, I wonder what you look like. I bet you’re a beautiful angel and you’ve got wings like we said you would have and one of those really puffy dresses you always wanted. I’m glad you’re not in any pain now, either. It must be so much better up there for you,” I choked up but let the tears fall and my other hand started stroking her hair. “I don’t want you to feel guilty, okay? You’ve done nothing wrong. You were just very sick and it’s no one’s fault that you got like that, and look-” I motioned to Jack to get one of her teddies out of his bag and he handed it to me. “I bought Mr Fluffy with us to give to you. I’m keeping the others because they’re very important to me, I hope you don’t mind.”
I took the small bear from Jack and placed it in her right hand as best as I could and then fixed her hair that I messed up. It was limp and it wasn’t shining or bouncing like it would’ve been once before.
“We have to go now but I love you, we all do. We won’t ever forget you, don’t worry. Say hello to Gran for me and tell her that we’re all doing fine. Keep being safe up there, I can’t protect you anymore,” I placed a kiss on her forehead and squeezed her hand one last time. “Goodbye, Scar. I love you.”
And then we left.
-
Once we got outside the building, I fell against Jack and broke down into tears. I had done my best to try and keep it in, but having to fake a smile to the receptionist had been the last straw. I felt ever so slightly better when Jack had tightly wrapped his arms around just let me cry and I only stopped when I felt flushed out and had a headache.
“I want to go home.” I mumbled.
“Then we’ll go home,” Jack replied. I craved for a tiny bit of his affection and weakly kissed him on the lips before allowing him to speak again. “I’m so proud of you, Dean.”
-
We got the bus to the funeral home since it was a little too far to walk there. Jack paid for both of our bus fares and on the way back home I was in a bit of a daze so I stayed quiet during the journey.
Sitting opposite us was a mother and a toddler no older than five. She seemed fascinated by everything around her and look turns in staring me and Jack curiously. Her hair was blonde but we shared the same eye colour, however they weren’t dull like mine. The toddler’s eyes were wide and bright and full of innocence.
How tragic it was that the sadness that looms over your head like clouds takes away the light in your eyes, leaving them empty.