Disasterpiece

The day passed in a miserable blur. Brandon returned the next morning with a lawyer who was in charge of executing Uncle Frank’s will – a will that saw me as his sole beneficiary. I sat numbly at the kitchen table, barely taking in his monotone voice as he read the will, my rights and my unwanted responsibilities – such as arranging the funeral. I felt like imploding, like everyone around me was trying to cram more and more bunches of scrunched of paper riddled with information inside of me, to the point where I just couldn’t take it; I literally could not take in another thing.

On top of it all I was now the owner of Uncle Frank’s bar and his house (two places I couldn’t bear to think about visiting) and the funds in his bank account were also being emptied and transferred over to me.

It was too real.

I had signed the dotted lines wordlessly; shook the lawyers hand and watched Josie show him out to the door. Brandon sat across from me, deep in thought with a slight downward tug on his lips. I avoided eye contact with him, looking down at my lap uncomfortably – just in case some tears came, I couldn’t bear the sympathy right now.

“Vix?” Brandon probed lightly; I sniffed, daring to look up at him. He leaned across the table, taking my hands in his. His hands were so warm; it was actually nice to feel another person’s touch and surprisingly it made me happier that it was Brandon’s.

“I just want you to know that I’m here for you ok? Everyone at the bar has your back too; we’ll help you with whatever you need. I know we’re not close friends or anything but I can keep running the bar for you until you feel up to it…and if arranging the…well you know; is too much, I can take that off your shoulders as well,” Brandon said comfortingly. I swallowed the lump that was building up in my throat; I couldn’t believe that he was willing to offer so much to me, that there actually were people out there who wanted to help me. I realised then how pure and kind hearted Brandon was, I mean he’d always been kind to me and we’d joked around and had great conversations, but until now I’d never realised how amazing he was.

“Wow that was a lot to take in,” Josie sighed loudly as she walked back into the kitchen. Brandon dropped my hands, slinking back into his chair; Josie sat next to me, giving me a sideways squeeze. “We’ll get through this,” she whispered, trying to bring positivity back into the air, which had turned solemn and dank during the lawyer’s presence.

“I guess,” I replied, though I didn’t believe the truth in my words.

The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do is stand at the front of a church listening to a pastor talk about a man he didn’t know that meant more to me than anything. Just standing there having to listen to the final rights and stare up at a closed coffin that I knew enclosed a man of valour and absolute integrity, was the most rock bottom moment of my existence. Forget stolen graves, abusive relationships and broken lusts – accepting that your keeper has departed is the most gut wrenching thing anyone could ever go through.

I had spent the entire night before the funeral sleeplessly crying to myself; curled up in a ball on my bed. Josie had stayed with me all night, unable to say anything relieving, but making sure that I knew she was there for me - which I did. Her and Brandon had pretty much planned the funeral on my behalf, the only say I wanted was that Stairway to Heaven was played – it was one of Uncle Franks favourite songs. He had also put in his will that he wanted to be cremated, so while I looked up at a coffin that held his full body now; the moment that song played and the mourners stood up to depart would signify the last remaining minutes of his bodies full existence.

When those first chords struck I broke down.

Josie immediately pulled me into her, together we sat on our chairs crying into each other as people stood up solemnly and walked out; grimacing sympathetically at the scene we had created. Brandon had organised the bar to be closed today, so that’s where everyone headed for refreshments, but I wasn’t yet ready to face a venue that was the very essence of Uncle Frank’s life, a bar he had built from the ground up with everything he had.

My sobs settled as I pulled back from Josie’s grasp, we both wiped our eyes – luckily for me I had been less than bothered putting makeup on this morning. We sat in silence for a few minutes, recovering from our outbursts and staring up at the coffin which was now being moved by the funeral company. Josie squeezed my hand tightly – she didn’t need to say anything, but I knew that squeeze was to reassure. Brandon crept quietly up behind us, placing a hand on each of our shoulders.

“Are you girls ready?” he asked softly. Josie looked across to me for an answer, obviously adamant that she was sticking by my side today. I bit my lip, shaking my head.

“I’m not going,” I replied, my voice croaky from the crying.

“You can’t stay here…” Josie frowned, squeezing my hand again. I shook my head, sighing.

“It’s not that I want to stay here…I just can’t go to the bar, I can’t face that yet,” I explained, my heart thumping at the very mention of the place. Josie looked up at Brandon who shrugged.

“You know the guests better so you go to the bar and I’ll take her home?” he suggested. She shuffled in her seat, panic flashing over her eyes – she didn’t want to leave me. “I’ll look after her I promise,” Brandon bent down into her ear and whispered. She relented with a loud exhale, not happy that she was being separated from me but knowing there wasn’t a better option. She turned to me, squeezing my hands tighter.

“I’ll come back home as soon as I can ok?” she said, I nodded once to acknowledge her. We helped each other stumble to our feet, and with one last forlorn gaze at the now empty stage, we turned and walked out of the church together.

Outside Josie got into her car and drove off to the bar while Brandon and I dawdled towards his car in silence. It was an overcast day, cold and drear – like the weather was in mourning too. It was peaceful to walk in the bitter air though, like it revived my insides somehow – the little sting of cold wind on bare skin at least making me feel something other than numbness. I stopped Brandon as we reached his car.

“Can we walk home?” I asked, he looked confused and apprehensive, but agreed any way. So we continued to stroll silently, even though I didn’t acknowledge it consciously, I knew deep inside where the way we were going would lead. Brandon of course had no idea; he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and let me lead the way with no resistance. Of course when I stopped him again, he was surprised.

We stood on the footpath staring up at the house, my breathing growing deep and uneven. Millions of pins felt like they were pricking my spine over and over again. The grass was a little overgrown, with the plants that fluttered in the wind the only movement; besides that the whole aura of the abode felt still and stagnant – frozen in time from the moment Uncle Frank was taken away by ambulance.

I started to hear voices in my head; memories of squealing children and a big burly laugh, remnants of good times past. The trick or treats, the happy birthdays, the words of advice; they all flooded back like a punch to the gut. I bent over, clutching my stomach. Oh God it hurt so bad, it felt like scissors were tearing at my insides.

Tears started to roll down my face as Brandon rubbed my back; I think he realised where we were.

“We should’ve drove home,” he berated himself quietly; I shook my head.

“No,” I chocked out. He frowned, bending down so he was eye level with me.

“This is too much for you, we should go,” he said in concern, but I shook my head again.

“No I should face this,” I said, trying to sound strong and determined but my voice wavered.

“You don’t have to do it now – you’ve already been through a lot today,” he tried, placing his finger under my chin he tilted my head up so I was looking at him. His own eyes were crystallising with tears.

“Please let me?” I begged softly. I knew if I didn’t face it now I would never be able to bring myself to again. And I knew I had to face it, I owned this house now – I owned everything inside it. I couldn’t just leave it here to rot. Brandon took a deep breath, nodded and held out his arm towards the house. We stood up straight together, taking a moment to revive in the houses shadow before stepping forward. Brandon slipped his hand into mine as we passed through the gate and walked up to the porch. I bent down, pulling the spare key from under the mat and clicking it into the heavy wooden door.

I pushed on the wood, the door swinging open with a loud creak; illuminating the hallway. I don’t know if it was worse that the house still felt fresh, as though it had only been occupied moments before. It wasn’t like when we returned home and there was dust and a musty smell, it still had that lived in feel. I tightened my grip on Brandon’s hand as we stepped inside.

I don’t know what I was expecting, or what I thought would happen if I went in. In an alternate fairy tale world Uncle Frank would’ve popped out, laughing at the funny prank he had just pulled; I would be angry but over the moon and grateful that he was alive and we would sit down to coffee and cake, joking about the joke that was played.

As much as I wished it, fairy tales didn’t exist – and entering into this house meant nothing more than that. We were just walking through the rooms I had already seen and spent many years in. The only difference was the lack of Uncle Frank, everything else was exactly the same. So I pulled Brandon around aimlessly, into one room, out of another, around in circles. He didn’t question or try to stop me, just let me lead him.

There was only one thing out of place in the entire house and only upon the second entering of the kitchen did I notice it. Dropping Brandon’s hand I walked over to the kitchen bench, running my eyes over the white envelope which had my name messily scrawled on the front. Uncle Frank’s writing was usually messy, but this seemed even more so. My breath held in my throat as I shakily picked up the envelope, peeling it open. The paper inside dropped easily into my hand, immediately I could see it was a hand written note.

“Oh God,” I breathed, panic rising up inside. Brandon came up behind me, inspecting the situation.

“Let’s sit down,” he said, placing his hands on my shoulders he helped manoeuvre me over to the coach where I plonked down, my eyes still wide, my hands shaking and the note still held out in front. He sat down next to me, putting on hand on my thigh.

“You can do it,” he said encouragingly. Without his insistence I don’t think I would’ve ever opened that letter, I don’t think I could’ve brought myself to do it. But he was here, so I unfolded it slowly, letting the messy scrawl wash over me.

My dearest darling Vixen,

I’m going to ramble here, so forgive me if I do.

You have grown into such a beautiful young women, I have never been more proud of you. From the day I first met you at the hospital in your father’s arms until now, I have loved you like my own daughter and I hope you see how much I care for you.

I have watched you grow over the years, face so many battles and evils and still overcome them all. You underestimate how powerful you are, your final battle will be letting yourself open up and accept how truly wonderful you are.

I am blessed to have known such gorgeous woman, I hope that whoever you let into your life appreciates you and treats you how you deserve to be treated. I hope this thing with Corey brings you joy and new possibilities, and if you’re meant to be with this boy you’re fawning over then it will happen. If not, you were meant to find someone better.

I don’t know how to write the next part exactly…if you’re reading this then my gut instinct was right and I have passed. I know this must’ve been a blow for you and knowing you, you will blame yourself which I have to say right now is not right. You need to stop doing that. It was my time; I have lived a great life only made better by your existence.

I’m praying that this letter makes you feel better, not worse and it gives you some closure which I know you’ll seek. I hope my legacy to you will help you prosper in life, I left no conditions on my will so you may do with the house and the bar what you like. You can throw out everything if you want; I’m gone so it makes no difference to me.

I’m sure I’m rambling so I’ll finish this letter here. Remember how much you’re loved and stick by those who deserve your trust.

If the afterlife lets me I will watch over you.

Loving you forever,
Uncle Frank xxxxxoo

The paper fluttered from my hands to the floor, it was like Uncle Frank was here and we had got to have a final conversation before he passed. It was more than overwhelming to hear him write with the knowledge that he knew he was going to die…I wish he had told me instead of keeping me in the dark so I stayed with Corey. I wish he was here to add his famous hug to the discussion. I wish he hadn’t been so protective of me so I could’ve in-turn protected him. Through all these wishes though, I was just glad I got to hear from him one last time, he was right…it was like closure.

I looked over at Brandon who smiled reassuringly at me, making my heart melt. What an amazing guy, he had done so much for both Uncle Frank and I…he had taken Uncle Frank’s place as my rock during the last week of misery. He had been deserving of my trust…and perhaps something more? Maybe he was my something better, the flip side to a bad situation?

I don’t know if he read it in my eyes, or he had his own similar train of thought, but at that moment Brandon leaned in slowly, tilting his head to the side, his eyes closing…and I mimicked him, moving forward I let our lips crash together in an entanglement of heated comfort and waves of other worldly connection.