Page 7 of Lies in Promises
Mom and Dad weren’t the only ones I was going to rides with. I was going to ride them with Robert too. For a whole week, I was going to have my brother all to myself. No video games,none of his friends getting in the way. It was just going to be us and Mom and Dad, and we were going to have the best time. It was going to be the best trip ever.
But instead of having fun in California, we’re at Mom and Dad’s funeral, sad and miserable.
I guess, in a way, I am spending time with my brother, but instead of running around at an amusement park, we’re standing next to our parents’ caskets, surrounded by strangers in black and a priest.
My eyes move up to my brother next to me before I look at the two wooden boxes in front of me.
I’ve only seen caskets on TV, never in person. Looking at them makes me feel more scared than the fear the rain ever will bring. I’m crying, and since it’s raining, I don’t know if any tears are coming out at all.
A hand lands on my shoulder and gives me a squeeze.
I look up and see Henry looking down at me with sad eyes. Being here hurts him just as much as it does me and my brother. I can see it in his eyes, filled with tears.
Besides my brother, he’s the last piece of family I have. No aunts and uncles. No grandparents or cousins. No relatives. Just Henry. Not being able to handle it anymore, I do what any eight-year-old would do and throw my arms around him, sobbing into his suit jacket.
Henry’s arms tighten around me, like he is scared to let me go. He doesn’t say anything; no, he just holds me as we continue to listen to the priest.
When the priest says the last word, everything goes silent. It’s like we are part of those silent movies Dad sometimes watched. It’s like all the volume in the world was turned down.
The priest gives someone a nod, and the caskets start lowering into the holes waiting for them.
I hug Henry tighter, moving my eyes over to my brother. I can’t watch as the wooden boxes move.
Water is dripping down his face, but I can’t tell if it’s because he’s crying or because of the rain. He looks both sad and angry, the same way I feel.
The more I watch my brother, the more the need to comfort him grows. Without a second thought, I detangle myself from Henry and close the small distance between me and Robert, hugging him as tightly as I can.
It takes him by surprise. I don’t think I’ve hugged my brother in a long time. I’ve held his hand, and he has placed his hand on my shoulder, but I think the last time we hugged, I was a baby.
Robert doesn’t hug me back right away, but after a few seconds, he finally wraps his arms around me just as tightly as Henry.
As I watch men cover my parents with dirt, I say my goodbyes to them in my head.
I tell them how much I will miss them, how much I will always love them.
Dad always said the supernatural didn’t exist, that there is no such thing as ghosts or monsters. He said they were just fairytales and movies, but right now, I don’t want to believe that.
As I watch mountains of dirt land on the caskets, I so badly want to believe in ghosts. I want my parents to come back and haunt me, because that would mean they aren’t really gone. It would mean they are here, watching over me.
I’m going to believe in ghosts. Kids my age still believe in imaginary friends and Santa Claus, so why can’t I believe in ghosts to keep my parents alive?
Robert, Henry, and I stand by the gravesite until all that is left is a mountain of dirt covered with a million flowers.
This is life now.
The three of us, and a giant hole in the ground.
My parents are no more.
The rain hits my face harder than it did a few minutes ago, but it’s okay. The rain is hiding all the tears leaking out of my eyes.
I sneak a peek at Henry and Robert and see their faces are as wet as mine, the rain probably hiding their tears too.
I don’t know how long the three of us stand there, but by the time I look around, all the strangers in black are gone.
We stand there for a few more minutes, until eventually, Henry clears his throat, signaling that it’s time to leave.
As we walk to the car, I wish for one thing.
