Visible Monsters

I almost fall asleep during the priest's words, but Andrew nudges me awake every so often. The tissues are in my lap, just in case I need them. However, it's Aunt Iliana who's grabbing the tissues from me, passing them down to Ivory, who dabs her cheeks every so often. Madeline plays with the hem of her black dress. The other mourners wear depressed expressions, or have drifted off to sleep.

He babbles. Father Robert hardly knew my uncle, and Uncle Paul hated the man. A liar, and most likely a child molester. We only went to church for Aunt Iliana. My uncle and I would just make bets on whose 12-year-old son Father Robert would hit on.

A good hour, and Mr. Danielsen, Uncle Paul's best friend speaks. "He was a good man. Had a wonderful wife, but couldn't have kids. So he jumped at the chance of taking care of his brother's daughter. And what joy that brought him. A kid. I mean, most of us would probably want to give our kids away sometimes!"

Awkward laughter.

"But not Paul Behrend. He loved that girl. He really did." Mr. Danielsen sniffles. "They say there aren't good people in the world. Maybe it's because all of them are dying from incurable diseases, or by chance."

Pause.

"Some of you may know this, but Paul's liver and heart saved some folks' lives. They're alive and well, thanks to him. Thanks to his family." He nods in our direction. "He really was an amazing man, and wherever he is now...Paul, we could really use more people like you." He saunters back to his seat with his children and wife. Mr. Danielsen smiles sympathetically to me, and I attempt to grin back.

"What do you mean I'm not allowed into the service!"

"We have every right to be here! We're related to the dead man!"

Aunt Iliana's wide eyes frighten me. Charcoal continues strolling down the aisle, Ivory behind him. Aunt Iliana abruptly rises from her seat and scuffles down the red carpeted aisle, Madeline and me following her quick movements.

The four of us kneel on the padded bench, saying our goodbyes. Uncle Paul's black tie is slightly crooked, the blue Armani shirt looser than the last time he wore it. I can hear Aunt Iliana's silent weeping as I shut my eyes.

Uncle Paul, wherever you are...I love you.

We step to the side as everyone murmurs his or her goodbyes. Each person mutters a "I'm sorry for your loss", "Paul was a good man", or "it'll be okay". They don't understand. Uncle Paul was my father. Now he's gone.

"Tawn, I'm really sorry." Andrew wraps his arms around me, holding me tight. The yelling still sounds through the thick wooden doors. Mom and Dad still wait for a way to enter, to ruin our mourning. They're celebrating on the inside for death.

I hope cancer gets them both.

"Tawny..." My face is still pressed against his chest. "Everything will be okay."

Three years since this mishap, and I'm here, awaiting the burial of my uncle, not his bright eyes or his uplifting smile. My supposed parents still create misery, but Andrew drowns the noise out. My little sister shakes hands with our uncle's colleagues, hugs from close friends and other relatives.

They say shit happens, but how often?

Daphne, Arin, and Desiree gather around Madeline, encouraging words spewing out of their mouths. How quickly can friends accept strange situations?

My eyes watch Andrew, who closes his eyes. "Tawny..."

"Andy, life is special. We all have to believe that. Uncle Paul taught me that a long time ago." How much of his teachings have I forgotten? "I'm content with being here for now. I'm not going to hide, or snap...or whatever I used to do. It's a waste of life to hide away like that."

He wipes the tears streaming down my cheeks.

I'm not going to be a lawyer.

I'm not going to be a bitch hermit.

I'm not going to live under a rock.

I'm not going to antagonize everyone in my path.

I'm lucky to be where I am, to be around the people I'm with. For once in three years, I'm at peace. Zen. Calm is a new experience--a good one, in fact.

"You've changed." He brushes my mud brown hair out of my face.

"So have you."