Your Reason to Be

Chennaya's POV

"Wake up," I murmur, nudging her shoulder. "Tara we're here."

Her eyelids flutter open and she slaps my hand away. "I know, I know."

The sound of the water crashing against the beach's own sea of rocks manages to whistle through the hard walls of her car. I lean my head back on the top of the seat, closing eyes for a few seconds, just letting the ocean waves calm my nerves. I shouldn't even be the nervous one here.

I turn the key in the ignition and the irritating growl of the engine immediately ends. "Thank god," I mutter dropping my head again. Long drives aren't really what I live for, unless I'm the passenger and in this case I wasn't. I had no idea of how draining driving is. The six hour drive - including all the turns I made, I haven't been given the time to memorize Californian roads as I've never been here til now - sucked all the energy I'd saved from the five hour sleep on the flight, killing only half the time I had left. 

Blue eyes, thin lips, brown hair, small nose. The only face that kept flashing back and forth. It infuriated me to the point where I almost gave up on sleep, too tired to even attempt a little rest, so upset I couldn't even think straight. After what seemed like an eternity of shifting and turning in my suspiciously uncomfortable plane seat, I finally forced my eyes to rest but still my brain maintained its racing pace as even reality ploughed into my dreams. 

He was there. The traitor succeded in disturbing me in sleep. I had not the vaguest idea of what occured in it nor did I want to know but I just knew it was mostly about him. This nightmare is even worse than the lustful and disgustingly passionate one I had a few weeks back. This is one I am sure about because I am now informed of his 'love' for me. And I had to find out from my boyfriend.

"Chey," I hear her pained voice again. 

Turning to face her I gasp. Dry snot clotting around her nose, pale distressed face, red weary eyes, and even after years of sobbing, tears leaking silently from the corners. "Oh Tara." I wiggle my bum as close to the passenger seat as I can and place her head on my shoulder, stroking the damp curtain of hair out of her eyes. "Do you wanna stay in the car for a little longer?" 

I feel her nod. Her sniffles and small whimpers makes me want to slap myself in the face - my best friend has just lost her only sister and here I am stressing myself silly about a boy - what a crap friend I am. 

She takes in a sharp breath only reminding me of the wet substance running down my neck. "You can cry on my shoulder but please don't get your own mucus on me."

Tara laughs and I smile knowing it's just a little piece of laughter she needs. "I won't, don't worry."

There's a series of taps on my window. Georgia's small face appears on the other side and the door is opened. I release Tara, giving her a hopeful smile, before stepping out of the rented vehicle and being crushed by her mother's strong embrace. For a small framed woman, only reaching 5'3 and having a thin figure, her hold is surprisingly firm.

"Oh sweetheart I'm so glad you came." She looks up at me with a sweet gaze.

I can't help but grin down at her. "Of course. I wish we could've come earli-"

"Ah don't worry about it." She peers around me and yells, "Joey get the girl's things why don't you?"

Before agreeing to get in the house, I stare at the horizon, the sun already slowly dipping down beneath the rolling waves. The ocean seems calmer than it was just a few minutes ago. I wish I could live right in front of the beach but I have the lucky chance of getting to live in the center of London. Even with a cool light breeze accompanying the near body of ocean, the completely obvious warmth overwhelms me. They have always been telling me that California's temperature is much warmer than London's but I didn't really take them seriously. I suddenly feel overdressed and hot underneath my light grey sweater and black jeans. 

Georgia leads us to the house, shoving open double doors. I'm greeted by a hard scent of different aromas all coming at me at once, Tara's mother has always been the best cook.

I watch Georgia snake her arm around her daughter's waist and almost seems like she's carrying her around. Wanting to give them the time together, which they've missed for the past three years, I follow Joey up to the second storey of the house, slowly trudging along.

"Thanks," I say as he sets down my duffel bag on the end of a bed, that is supposedly in the bedroom I'm sharing with Tara while we stay here.

He huffs, "No problem. Do you remember me?" Biting down my bottom lip, I shake my head, ashamed that I don't. "Joey? Tara's cousin Joey? 'Oh look it's Joey, the kangaroo!'"

My eyes widen at the sudden realization. "Oh my goh Jo?" I almost yell.

"Yes it's Jo." 

We exchange quick hugs, continuing to laugh about our younger days, teasing the other about our names and letting insults and crazy nicknames escape freely from our lips. "How are you finding Cali?"

"It's amazing but so different from London. I got lost so many times trying to drive here. And it's so hot too."

He snickers at my complaints. "You'll get used to it. Well we're going in an hour so go get ready."

His sentence hits me hard: this'll be my second time attending a funeral and I'm not even completely stable yet.



The silence scares me in a way that rises invisible goosebumps on my bared arms. If you listen closely you might get to hear the tiny sniffles, whines and stifled sobs as everyone crowds around the dug hole. I dare myself to look up, eyeing everyone's faces - not one of them are hysterical or loudly sobbing, but instead have the most pained, mournful faces and little droplets of tears finding their way out of the eyes. I think that each one of them have run out of loud cries and I honestly believe that silence is louder than the most bloodcurdling scream in the entire world. 

Final words are said by the pastor and the crowd almost simultaneously disperse into different groups. Of course I stay by Tara's side often soothing her when I feel her shaky breaths starting again. I have never lost a sibling but I've lost a close cousin which may be the same thing. In reality nothing is worse than that feeling of someone being forcedly removed from your life and leaving you only to be sure of one thing: they're never going to come back. 

A few of the guests walk up to her family offering sympathy, sharing tight embraces, short and sweet conversations, quick handshakes and explaining how they'll pray for the Richardson's. I simply smile and nod at them, knowing I have no part whatsoever in such a delicate moment.

When almost everyone has left, I feel a strange vibration pounding against my thigh, my hands slap against the living phone. Tara eyes where my attention is pasted on and says, "Hey you can answer it, it's fine."

"Are you sure?"

She pushes me by the shoulder gesturing to a more secluded spot. "Yeah go on, it might be love boy."

I roll my eyes and hurriedly reach for the device. Wishing Tara has suddenly become a future teller and what she says is true, I check what the notification is for. 20% Battery Remaining. I groan slipping the wretched thing back in its place and crossing my arms. 

Maybe Niall thinks that it's still the funeral ceremony, there's also the huge time difference or he may believe I'm tired which I am. Tapping my right toe repetitively on the damp grass I wonder if I'm beginning to be one of those over protective and all too worrisome girlfriends. 

The same vibration. "Yes," I hiss grabbing the phone once again. It's a text but it's not from Niall. 

Tomlinson Terror: hey chey, you might not receive this but who cares? i only found out about tara and the funeral today because niall respected your privacy and i had to tickle him out of it...i really miss you and i hope that we can chat when you c

I don't bother with the rest of the text, angrily shoving it in my pocket. The irony of the world sometimes.