Thank You, Gravity
Strangle Me
Joe’s P.O.V
The tie around my neck feels way too tight. I reach for it to fix it, but decide I’d rather that it strangle me. I don’t want to be here, I don’t want this to be happening. I look ahead of me and see Frankie and Nick, four pews directly ahead, and Kevin sitting with my dad three pews ahead. The only person missing is Mom. I’m totally zoning out, my eyes closed and head tilted down. I’m not listening to the service. It’s just too painful. I look up once and can see Nick’s head lowered as he’s crying. It kills me to see him cry like that.
I’ve always been told by people that men should never cry, but I can’t not cry any longer. Suddenly it bursts out and I’m sobbing with my head in my hands. I know I should be paying more attention to the service, but I just can’t contain myself. My eyes sting and my chest feels hot.
“Joe?” I hear a gentle voice and look up at the blurry figure of Nick. I sniffle and rest my head back in my hands. “The service is over,” he mutters gently, sliding next to me in the seat. I look up, blinking, and everyone is filing out through the aisle.
“What are we going to do, Nick?” I sob, sliding closer to him so I can rest my head on his shoulder. His pillowish hair and smell of vanilla cologne is amazingly comforting. I rest my hand on his.
“I don’t know,” Nick’s voice wavers as he says it.
“Boys, you alright?” My dad ask solemnly. I can barely hear him over my own breathing and sobbing. I shake my head and look up. Nick shuffles out of the pew and I follow him, looking down at Frankie holding my dad’s hand. I feel so bad for him - going through this when he’s only eleven. It shouldn’t have to happen to him. None of this should be happening. The accident wasn’t supposed to happen. Mom shouldn’t have gone out that night when it was storming. And we shouldn’t be here.
My dad pulls me into a tight embrace. We hug for a silent few seconds, and then I bend down to Frankie. “You alright?” I ask, though his tear-streaked face and red eyes portray that he was not. Frankie just nods, wiping the tears with the back of his hand. “It’s okay to cry,” I tell him gently. He squeezes his eyes shut for a second and then the tears come out. I hug him tightly before picking him up and plopping him down on top of my shoulders.
We walk out of the church, Frankie making me feel even more strangled as he hugs my neck, bouncing slightly as I walk. I blink at the sunlight, shielding my eyes and I set him down on the grass.
“Where am I going to live?” Nick asks the question he has obviously been holding off for days - Dad had been planning on going to California for a couple months soon, before… for his work and other stuff we didn’t know about. And he was going to take Frankie with him. He looks at Dad, who shrugs.
“You could move in with me, I guess.” I offer, my voice is barely a whisper. “I have some extra room.”
“We’ll discuss it.” Dad says flatly, almost stonily. His face is stone - serious. Being serious is his only way to get through this.
Nick's P.O.V
I try to hold in the tears as I sit on an uncomfortable metal folding chair. I look up at the black casket lying on the table, with the wreaths of flowers all around it. The family is all milling around the room. On the walls were photos of Mom growing up, and some recent photos. I don’t look at them, I don’t go up to the casket. I just sit on the chair and try to hold the tears in.
I feel a pair of hands on my shoulders and I know it’s Joe. I look up at him, his face is wet and his eyes red. It’s clear he’s been crying. He starts to walk over to the casket, so I get up and follow him.
I peer into the black box. Our mom looks so alive - like she should wake up and come out of the casket. They had dressed her in a satin gown, and it made me tear up to see it. Joe gave me a hug from behind and I turn around to face him and rest my head on his chest. He embraces me tightly, murmuring words in my ear, but I can’t make them out. When I finally pull away, my dad comes up to us and tells us we’re going to lunch at our house. I don’t want to be around all these crying people any more.
The trip to our house is much too long, and being alone in my car just makes it worse. I follow Kevin’s Jeep for the abnormally long trip home.
I put on a fake smile when I saw my relatives, giving them all a hug though I really wanted them to just suck it up, leave, just get the fuck out of my house. I go into the kitchen, where I can maybe have some privacy.
“Joe,” I spin around when I see him walking behind me with my peripheral vision. “Please don’t go back home tonight. I can’t do this alone. Don‘t leave me.” I beg, tears welling in my eyes.
“Nicky, don’t worry, I wouldn’t leave you,” Joe promises quietly, giving me a sideways one-armed hug and planting a tiny kiss on my cheek. I shivered, my skin tingling from his touch. I lean against the fridge and slide down, hugging my knees and finally letting it all come out.
The tie around my neck feels way too tight. I reach for it to fix it, but decide I’d rather that it strangle me. I don’t want to be here, I don’t want this to be happening. I look ahead of me and see Frankie and Nick, four pews directly ahead, and Kevin sitting with my dad three pews ahead. The only person missing is Mom. I’m totally zoning out, my eyes closed and head tilted down. I’m not listening to the service. It’s just too painful. I look up once and can see Nick’s head lowered as he’s crying. It kills me to see him cry like that.
I’ve always been told by people that men should never cry, but I can’t not cry any longer. Suddenly it bursts out and I’m sobbing with my head in my hands. I know I should be paying more attention to the service, but I just can’t contain myself. My eyes sting and my chest feels hot.
“Joe?” I hear a gentle voice and look up at the blurry figure of Nick. I sniffle and rest my head back in my hands. “The service is over,” he mutters gently, sliding next to me in the seat. I look up, blinking, and everyone is filing out through the aisle.
“What are we going to do, Nick?” I sob, sliding closer to him so I can rest my head on his shoulder. His pillowish hair and smell of vanilla cologne is amazingly comforting. I rest my hand on his.
“I don’t know,” Nick’s voice wavers as he says it.
“Boys, you alright?” My dad ask solemnly. I can barely hear him over my own breathing and sobbing. I shake my head and look up. Nick shuffles out of the pew and I follow him, looking down at Frankie holding my dad’s hand. I feel so bad for him - going through this when he’s only eleven. It shouldn’t have to happen to him. None of this should be happening. The accident wasn’t supposed to happen. Mom shouldn’t have gone out that night when it was storming. And we shouldn’t be here.
My dad pulls me into a tight embrace. We hug for a silent few seconds, and then I bend down to Frankie. “You alright?” I ask, though his tear-streaked face and red eyes portray that he was not. Frankie just nods, wiping the tears with the back of his hand. “It’s okay to cry,” I tell him gently. He squeezes his eyes shut for a second and then the tears come out. I hug him tightly before picking him up and plopping him down on top of my shoulders.
We walk out of the church, Frankie making me feel even more strangled as he hugs my neck, bouncing slightly as I walk. I blink at the sunlight, shielding my eyes and I set him down on the grass.
“Where am I going to live?” Nick asks the question he has obviously been holding off for days - Dad had been planning on going to California for a couple months soon, before… for his work and other stuff we didn’t know about. And he was going to take Frankie with him. He looks at Dad, who shrugs.
“You could move in with me, I guess.” I offer, my voice is barely a whisper. “I have some extra room.”
“We’ll discuss it.” Dad says flatly, almost stonily. His face is stone - serious. Being serious is his only way to get through this.
Nick's P.O.V
I try to hold in the tears as I sit on an uncomfortable metal folding chair. I look up at the black casket lying on the table, with the wreaths of flowers all around it. The family is all milling around the room. On the walls were photos of Mom growing up, and some recent photos. I don’t look at them, I don’t go up to the casket. I just sit on the chair and try to hold the tears in.
I feel a pair of hands on my shoulders and I know it’s Joe. I look up at him, his face is wet and his eyes red. It’s clear he’s been crying. He starts to walk over to the casket, so I get up and follow him.
I peer into the black box. Our mom looks so alive - like she should wake up and come out of the casket. They had dressed her in a satin gown, and it made me tear up to see it. Joe gave me a hug from behind and I turn around to face him and rest my head on his chest. He embraces me tightly, murmuring words in my ear, but I can’t make them out. When I finally pull away, my dad comes up to us and tells us we’re going to lunch at our house. I don’t want to be around all these crying people any more.
The trip to our house is much too long, and being alone in my car just makes it worse. I follow Kevin’s Jeep for the abnormally long trip home.
I put on a fake smile when I saw my relatives, giving them all a hug though I really wanted them to just suck it up, leave, just get the fuck out of my house. I go into the kitchen, where I can maybe have some privacy.
“Joe,” I spin around when I see him walking behind me with my peripheral vision. “Please don’t go back home tonight. I can’t do this alone. Don‘t leave me.” I beg, tears welling in my eyes.
“Nicky, don’t worry, I wouldn’t leave you,” Joe promises quietly, giving me a sideways one-armed hug and planting a tiny kiss on my cheek. I shivered, my skin tingling from his touch. I lean against the fridge and slide down, hugging my knees and finally letting it all come out.