Winter Wakes

No matter how you looked at it, this was a wake. There was the dark attire, the strong scents, and the pained faces of those who attended. But the attire was all designer, and fitted. The smells, as opposed to Old Spice and White Diamonds was distinctly Hollister California and Acqua Di Gio. The faces were too young to be accustomed to the despair that comes with losing a person close to them. I was used to the ancient withered faces of our typical visitors who had frequented funerals much more often in their old age, some so painfully often that it was apparent the sight of a familiar face in a casket no longer fazed them.

These were the faces of college students, new and raw to the situation of a death so close to their very existence. I stood in a back corner, observing and mulling the situation over. I was unaccustomed to this type of crowd. That’s not saying there wasn’t anyone over the age of twenty three there, because there was. Some were obviously family; others I questioned as college professors.

There was an unexplained sense of despair in the room; they were all so… distraught. There was one exception though. Instead I could feel the rage of that presence bearing down with scrutinizing eyes on everyone in the room. The boy who had made the unexpected comment before had remained where he was, seemingly unnoticed and unconfronted in the corner opposite mine. Maybe it was the frightening air he let off that kept everyone at bay. Despite appearing around the same age as the majority of the crowd, he kept his distance, and his mourning was in that of the angry, unfulfilled fashion. The young relatives of the deceased sometimes acted in such a manner. I shouldn’t have been so surprised. But the clear anger that resonated from him was still frightening.

I snapped out of my trance when I realized he had seen me staring at him. His icy glare quickly made me divert my attention elsewhere. Or at least try to. I shook hands with a girl around my age, muttering my condolences as I did so. The sensation of being watched was enough to make my skin crawl, though. I glanced in his direction once again, only to find I was the one being stared at as opposed to how it was. There was some hesitant fascination to the look he gave me.

It was then I decided to act. I took a deep breath before making my way across the crowd to where he stood. I concluded he was the reason my father wanted me here. Since we bordered a similar age, it would be easier for me to coerce the boy into deciding this was the place he’d need to come back to when the misfortune of death befell his parents.

I gave him a half smile as I stopped about an arm’s length away.

“Despite what you may think, I am very sorry for your loss,” I stated softly. He stared at me unabashedly, almost as though he was seeing a strange, foreign creature for the first time; or just as though I had an extra head or something. “I know what it feels like to lose someone—“

“You’re talking to me?” He cut me off, asking in what seemed to be disbelief.

I blinked, attempting to compose myself. I wanted to make a smart comment, or treat him as if he was slow. But this was not the time, nor place.

“Um yeah, why wouldn’t I?” I paused. “I understand you’re upset about the loss of a loved one. You must have been very close.”

In a flash his bewildered demeanor vanished, and the blue eyes once again held the flame of fury. I tried not to cringe back from his hateful glare.

“Loved one, huh?” I could hear the malice in each word. “Have you even looked at who is in the casket?”

My mouth wouldn’t form syllables or even open. I shook my head; his stare hardened.

“Do it, and then come back and talk to me. Maybe then you’ll understand the true reason to be sorry about this loss,” I could sense the danger hidden below the surface of that command. I would most certainly come back and talk to him; not out of obligation, out of fear.

I nodded once, stepping back slowly, and heading for the room where the body was being shown. I had never seen so many flowers at one such service before. The room almost lacked standing room, and the only apparent room was as to view the body.

I didn’t hesitate to walk up to the casket; dead bodies didn’t bother me. I may have had nightmares when I was little from seeing such things, but by the age of seven a lifeless corpse didn’t faze me. I was brought up here. Even the one time a body in one of those wooden boxes should have brought me to tears or hysterics, I had become so immune to the effect all I could do was look down emotionlessly.

What happened this time was unexpected; and uncontrollable. A spasm of panic hit me the instant I laid eyes on the figure there. I could only stare down, my mind unable to process what lay before me. One logical thought crossed my mind; but despite its believability, I quickly pushed it to the back of my thoughts. Deep down I knew no matter how right it seemed, it wasn’t true.

I was trembling as I stepped away from the casket, and accidentally backed into a platinum blonde, who shot me a glare on impact. I couldn’t even mumble an apology. I stood leaning against the inner archway of that room, just out of sight of the body, and just hidden from the boy waiting on me one room back. I didn’t understand what was going on. There was no logical explanation left to grasp at. I stared in shock, blankly at the mahogany casket situated in the center of the room. Only then did my eyes drift slightly to notice the picture situated next to the casket. I didn’t understand how I could overlook that.

In an instant my dazed state was erased as a cold hand was placed over my mouth and an equally chilled arm wrapped around the upper part of my body. I felt myself jump convulsively, my yelp stifled.

“I thought I told you to come back after you looked at the body,” A cold voice muttered in my ear. “Either way, I’m sure now you understand a reason to be truly sorry for my loss.”

I nodded slightly, my body trembling from the cold and my newly found fear. I understood.

My eyes drifted back to the portrait next to the casket. In the frame was a face framed in white blonde curls, two cool blue eyes offering just as much of a smile as the perfectly straight teeth did. In its wooden resting place the same body lay with a serene smile gracing its pale lips. Behind me, the ghost of the boy stood glaring acidly down at me, unseen by everyone else around.

My deep set selfishness managed to roll back into my mind at that point; despite being held still and quiet by a dead boy: Why me?