Six Feet Under The Stars

My whole body ached when I woke up, sunlight streaming in through my window; it seemed that nobody had thought to close my curtains while I was out for the count. I squinted and raised a hand to cover my eyes as I stretched out my back and legs, wiggling my ankles around too making sure that they cracked.

I actually truly hated the sound of joints cracking but there was something oddly soothing about the way it made them feel. I ached much, much less by the time I had cracked almost every joint in my body and managed to roll into an upright position with my legs dangling off of the edge of the bed.

I tried not to think as I glanced down at the alarm clock on my bedside table pulling an impressed face as it read 12:57; I could only have slept for around two hours.

Feeling far more rested than I had when I originally woke up that morning I stood up, stretched towards the ceiling allowing my pyjama top to roll up away from the waistband of my shorts and trotted off to the bathroom. I rolled my eyes when I noticed the unmistakable sounds of cartoons being played on the television downstairs as I closed the door and locked it.

I desperately needed a shower. All the crying I had done earlier on in the day had left my face feeling sticky and dry at the same time. I could feel that my hair was getting a little greasy and after having thrown up I was feeling more than a little gross and sweaty.

Leaning into the cubicle I turned the shower on to its highest temperature before pulling my arm back out as quickly as possible. I stripped off quickly after checking that there were towels ready for me to use when I got out and stepped in under the almost boiling water.

I scrubbed and scrubbed for at least ten minutes as though I was trying to wash off an entire layer of skin and everything that had happened to it in the last six weeks.

When I stepped out of the bathroom in a cloud full of steam Michelle was busy arranging my bed for me. Pulling the towel tighter against my body I wandered into my room slowly and stood awkwardly by the door, I knew full well that the ‘how are you doing’ conversation was coming my way.

Michelle looked up at me and forced a smile onto her previously frown-y face, “How are you feeling?”

I sighed and contemplated lying flat out. I could easily have told her that I was feeling absolutely fine and that I had just needed to sleep on it, that I was actually quite pleased that my father had gotten what was coming to him. But I would only have been lying to myself.

I wasn’t fine; far from it in fact. I felt like shit and no matter how hard I had scrubbed in that shower I still felt dirty and not in the literal sense. I felt that I had killed my father, sure I hadn’t actually dealt the fatal heart attack but I had put a huge amount of strain onto his already weak organ.

Surely I was partly to blame, if it hadn’t been for my immaturity he would probably still be alive.

“Honestly I feel like shit,” I admitted letting out a huge sigh as Michelle sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the place next to her. “I mean I know that it wasn’t my fault, I get that, it’s just...,” I paused as I sat down and the bed creaked. “It’s just that if I hadn’t been so childish he probably wouldn’t have drank himself into oblivion.”

Michelle looked surprised that I knew of this but recovered quickly as she put an arm around me in support, “I understand that it is hard on you, losing both of your parents in such a short space of time but you can’t beat yourself up over something you couldn’t have stopped, if anything I imagine your dad died of a broken heart.”

I knew she meant well but Michelle hadn’t really made me feel any better about my situation. A broken heart maybe but he still hadn’t started drinking until I started playing up. Colby and I were the only two stable things left in his life and when we bounced out of it so dramatically I imagine his heart couldn’t take it anymore and had given up on him.

Just like I had.

“Thanks,” I smiled ignoring the feeling of self loathing I had in the bottom of my stomach and Michelle smiled right back at me.

“No problem kiddo,” she mumbled before standing up and beginning to exit my room. “Oh and I’ve made some lunch so just come down when you’re ready okay, you’ve been out for a whole day you must be starving.”

I widened my eyes and my mouth gaped open in surprise, “A whole day?” I asked loudly and my aunt laughed merrily before nodding and closing my door behind her.

I was truly surprised that I had slept that long, I put half of it down to jet lag as I began to clothe myself. Tossing my dirty underwear and pyjama’s into the laundry basket that resided next to my dresser. I contemplated simply going back to bed to cry and wallow in self pity as I pulled on a pair of jeans over my bright yellow underwear.

I rejected the idea and pulled on a clean tank top before grabbing a jumper and a pair and socks and deserting my bedroom in favour of the kitchen.

Colby was busy stuffing his face when I took a seat beside him and pulled my own plate towards me. He glanced up briefly and we shared a look of sadness and grief before he looked away and continued to shovel food into his mouth. The pasta Michelle had made was good, nothing special but far from crappy and I realised how much I had missed real, home cooked food.

Back in my homeland all we ever ate was takeaways and pre-packaged dinners that took twenty minutes to heat up in the oven. Unless of course I bothered to make something which was rare because I was always too busy trying to spend as much time with my mother as possible before she passed and I was left feeling tons of regret for not being there enough.

I always moaned about it but my father never did anything about it; he never had been any good in the kitchen and I always doubted that he ever would be. Of course now he was never going to get the chance to even try.

I shook the morbid thought from my mind and focused on the tasty meal that lay before me. I had suddenly realised how hungry I actually was and although I could still sort of taste the toothpaste in my mouth I dug in and ignored the reluctance my stomach showed over the tomato/mint combination.

I polished off my plate in record time, even managing to finish before my brother who inhaled his food. Michelle looked at me with a pleased smile as I pushed my plate away and sat back rubbing my stomach; pasta had always made me feel a little bloated.

Although lunch had been silent it wasn’t at all awkward even though I could feel Michelle’s eyes darting between me and my brother throughout the meal.

“That was really good, thank you,” Colby murmured so quietly that I barely heard him but Michelle nodded and sent him a warm smile which I figured he just had to return.

Our aunt was like our mother in that aspect, she had a contagious smile that no matter how crappy you were feeling you couldn’t help but smile back too.

I quietly sipped on my drink feeling that the fact I had cleaned my plate and looked incredibly satisfied was compliment enough. Michelle cleared our plates away and placed them into the sink, rinsing them off before placing them into her hidden dishwasher.

I made a mental note of which cupboard it was integrated into before excusing myself and retreating into the living room. My lazy day of lounging around yesterday had been interrupted and so I decided there and then that today would be used for that sole purpose; visitors or not.

As if my subconscious had known there would be people knocking on our door the doorbell sounded and everything went silent. I looked up over the back of the couch to stare at the door as Michelle hurried to answer it a very fake but sincere smile on her friendly face.

I quickly hid myself as I recognised Alex’s slim body and (even though I would never admit it out loud) handsome face. I really didn’t want to spend the day with him today, especially if he was going to be as awkward and silent as he had been before. I had had a rough couple of days and all I really needed was something to take my mind off of it, not mind numbing silence that would leave me able to think about it.

I listened to Michelle explain that I wasn’t feeling too good as Colby joined me on the couch, taking up residence on my stretched out legs. I glared at him as the door clicked shut and Michelle rustled something in her hands.

“I think someone likes you,” he shrilled in a very girly way that surprised me causing both Colby and I to look and her and the massive bouquet of flowers she was holding between her palms.