Je Ne Sais Quoi

"Good morning, Zachary!" Three curt knocks announced his mother's sing-song arrival, a laundry basket balanced on one of her hips and green eyes bright. "You need to wake up!" she dropped the basket to a clothing-covered chair and yanked the curtains open with a flourish.

"Mom," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

"It's nearly night and your lazy bum is still-- Oh!" She stopped in her tracks when she saw me stir behind him, her mouth falling open. "What's going on here?"

"Mrs. Merrick," I yelped, sitting up ramrod straight and widening my eyes.

"Good morning, Raven," she was overly cheery but comically, conspicuously suspicious.

"Please, close the blinds before I blind myself," Zack muttered, rolling to face me again and pulling the blanket over his dirty-blonde mop of hair to shield his half-open eyes.

"This isn't what it looks like," I floundered, trying to flatten my unruly hair, as if that would make her think differently in and of itself.

"Rave! Mom! Breathe," he yawned, only sitting up when his mom drew the curtains again. "Rave and I did not engage in sexual acts in this bed last night nor have we ever," my mouth popped open and his mom just shook her head.

"I believe it," his mom nodded, as if rolling the idea around.

"What?" he laughed at the look I shot him. "I was just unceremoniously woken up and accused of having sex with you. I have a right to be blunt."

I just shook my head and crawled out of his bed, pulling my wrists above my head to make my back crack.

"Uh, breakfast is downstairs," his mom informed us with her usual smile, only a little shaken, now. "Come down before it gets cold."

"I think she expected us to pop news of a grandchild," Zack remarked as he stretched, too.

"Zack!" I hissed, appalled.

"Why is everyone suddenly so touchy this morning?" he laughed, pulling off his shirt and searching for a replacement on his floor.

"First off, it's after five-- I doubt that's still considered morning. Secondly, careful with your choice of words there. 'Touchy' is a little too ironic for comfort," I laughed.

"Gotta love your parents," he spoke dryly, a hint of humor on his lips.

"Your mother wants us together so bad it literally hurts," I smiled. "She genuinely thinks we're soul mates."

"She's a hopeless romantic," he blew my words off with a smile. "She wants to see me happy, and she knows you can do that."

"Knows?" the choice of words didn't get past me.

"Knows," he agreed. "Stella, too. And you can't fight the psychic."

"I've been trying to convince you of that since we met," I rolled my eyes. "Yet you still insist on challenging my all-knowingness.

"All-knowingness?" he dared, eyebrow rising.

"There you go again," I shook my head, climbing back into the passenger seat of his truck.

"You ask for it," he replied, smirking.

"I've been making up words since we were thirteen, Zack!"

"Then you've been asking for it since then," he replied, an easy smile curving up one corner of his mouth.

"Like I'd ever have to ask you for anything," I scoffed.

"You don’t have to," he countered. "I always know."

"Maybe you know me too well, then?"

"Impossible," he shook his head, turning to smile at me. "But one thing I don't know is what is so absolutely catastrophic about you plus funerals?"

I groaned, "For someone who knows me 'too well,' apparently you don't know that was exactly what I didn't want to think about."

"Too late now," he murmured, parking the truck. "We're here."

"Sweet baby Jesus," I hissed, hopping down from my seat, smoothing my black jeans and pulling down the hem of my cardigan.

"I'm not sure how much help he's going to be," Zack smile a little, taking my hand in his and squeezing gently. "I'm here, alright? Even though I have no idea what exactly I'm in for."

"Zack, funerals are pure grief," I began explaining. "That, combined with anger, lingering feelings of regret and whatever negative camaraderie and malice my family had towards each other doesn't make for a good environment for me and Rose. She gets vibes form people's emotions, feelings so strong she literally experiences them herself. I have a less intensified version, bouncing off their actions and words and body language, but I feel it, too. She gets the full brunt of their emotions while I feel theirs and hers."

"And what does that do," Zack looked concerned as he held the parlor's door open for me, stepping in behind and falling back into step, "to you guys, I mean."

"Rose is going to be bawl--" I didn't finish, however, because there was a sister wrapped around me.

"Speak of the devil," I chuckled wryly, hugging her back. "How are you, Rose?"

She snuffled into my shoulder and whispered, "This sucks!"

"As if death wasn't bad enough on its own," I sighed.

"Preach the truth, sista," she muttered before pulling away, bringing a tissue to her nose and sniffling again. "How are you, Zack?"

"Not great, but I can't complain, I've noticed," he squeezed her shoulder encouragingly and she managed a weak appreciative smile in return.

"Have you been inside yet?" I murmured to Rose as Zack wrapped a steadying arm around my waist.

"I was waiting for you to get here," she admitted, glancing around others milling in the lobby to catch sight of the viewing room. "I didn't want to have to go it alone," her voice and small frame trembled.

"Shhh," I whispered. "It's alright. It's all going to be fine."

Zack twined his fingers in mine and rubbed his thumb in small, soothing little circles before leaning down a bit to whisper in my ear, "Is it really going to be fine?"

"No," my voice shook. "Look out for Priscilla and flying shoes, alright?" He laughed softly, but it held such little humor, the sound comforted me more than it cheered me.

"It'll be alright, Rave," he insisted gently. "And even if it's not, it could always be worse."

I wish I could believe as easily as Rose did.

***

It seems quite pointless to say that everything was far from "alright." I stayed at Zack's that night, even though I said I wouldn't monopolize his mother's generosity anymore. I was careful not to stain his sheets with my salty tears, for I didn't want Mrs. Merrick to have anything else to worry about.

I sobbed silently, every breath drawn shaky and rough. It felt indecent, to be grieving someone else's grief, and wrong, that only a very small fraction was my own pure emotion.

Zack didn't care what was bothering me; he hurt because I was. He held my shaking body close until the tears stopped.

I hiccupped, managing a small, "I warned you," and a wry smile as he used gentle fingers to dry my cheeks.

"Everything's alright now, Rave," he whispered softly as I curled up against his chest, letting his breathing lull me to into dream-riddled and restless sleep.