Chapter 10
Rays of Sorrow
Lying on the bed, on top of the pale pink comforter with the delicate lacy trim and sitting up on the multiple decorative pillows is a black suit jacket. At first glance, it may seem to belong, but when one stares around and notices the pale yellow walls, the warm sunshine falling through the open window which is framed by bright cheery curtains with pastel butterflies flapping gently in the breeze, one realizes how forlorn this simple black jacket looks.
Mafia stands in front of the vanity, slowly adjusting the tie around his neck and becoming increasing frustrated by the ties lack of cooperation. Dressed in black slacks and white button-down shirt, he lets his hands fall away from the black tie he’s spent the better part of ten minutes fighting with. He meets his gaze in the mirror, the reflection resembling a young man who has suffered a much older man’s suffering. Dark bags hang from his eyes, which appear to be hollow, and his face shows no signs of ever knowing laughter or joy.
Mafia gazes down on the vanity and catches sight of the bright, red hair ribbon lying innocently on the polished wood surface. He reaches out and brushes the ribbon with his fingers, whispering, “Brie.” Looking back into the mirror, he asks, “Why? Why did this happen?” His thoughts drift back to just a week ago, when Brie looked up at him adoringly…thanking him for the stolen cookies. His mother and father swim through his thoughts, bringing back happy memories that cut him with an invisible knife.
Mafia begins pacing the room, trying to drive the memories away but the more he tries to forbid them, the more they flood his thoughts. Celebrating Brie’s ninth birthday, two Christmas’ ago when Brie was so happy to give him a picture she drew all by herself, the day he passed his driving test and his father handed him the keys, helping his mom bake a cake, Nick chasing Brie around the baseball diamond…
Mafia latches onto the image of Nick and forces his thoughts away from memories of his family. He remembers playing video games, hanging out with Nick, Jake, and Jenny, days spent after school at Taylor’d Cuisine, Nick constantly ribbing him about Nina and explaining it all to Alessa...
Mafia stops and stares into the eyes of his reflection again. His yellow eyes flare with anger. Alessa. The very thought of her fills him with rage. It can’t be a coincidence that she entered his life recently and now his family is gone. He’s replayed every instance she was around his family, every instance she hang out with his friends and everything that happened at the hospital. He still doesn’t know how she did it, but he knows what he saw. Somehow Alessa controlled fire. He saw the glint of light from the lighter and would have recognized it in a dark room. It was the same lighter she stole from Nick the morning he woke up in the hospital.
He can still hear Alessa’s words, “Just so we’re clear…I blame you.” Who was she talking too? Sometimes he thinks it was that cop…nurse…whatever it was. Thinking about what happened at the hospital; there are times he convinces himself that somehow Alessa and that thing were communicating. It wasn’t anything said, or even anything either one did…it’s just a gut feeling and reading something between the lines. The more he thinks about it, the more he believes there was something more to the looks those two shared.
Most of the time, he thinks it was Velma, one of the two girls who forced him away from the hospital. It made sense. After all, Velma shouted at Alessa as soon as she saw her, so why wouldn’t Alessa blame Velma. Velma was the reason Alessa used her “fire power” against them. Until that moment, Alessa seemed satisfied to merely watch. Sometimes he wonders what would have happened if Velma never came. Would Alessa still be around? Would he still be friends with her? If so, then why?
In the end, it doesn’t matter who Alessa shouted those words at, and it doesn’t even matter who she was working with, Mafia knows she’s to blame. Velma said Alessa killed her family, just like how his own died. He knows, he saw, Alessa control fire…even if he didn’t understand how she did it. He believes Alessa killed his parents, that she was the one who started the fire that claimed their lives. Velma only confirmed what he’s been suspecting ever since he saw Alessa flick the lighter and send a wave of fire at them. That wasn’t the worst though. The worst is that he blames himself for allowing Alessa to watch over Brie. Deep down inside, he knows that Alessa killed her, not because she started the fire that landed Brie in the hospital, but because somehow…someway she killed Brie. Brie was recovering. It’s true she wasn’t completely out of the woods, but everything pointed to Brie surviving…and then she was dead. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to make that bitch pay.
Mafia blinks and is startled to see his reflection. The Mafia that was staring back at him had a strange look in his eyes. Shaking his head and using his hands, he hides himself from his reflection, almost aggressively rubbing his hands over his face and up through his hair. He crosses the room and sits down on the bed. “What am I going to do?” He whispers into the room as he runs his fingers through the straight, black hair that hangs limply at his shoulders. He listens, as if waiting for the empty room answer, when a light knock on the door tears his attention away.
“Mafia,” Jenny’s says, her voice traveling through the door. “Are you ready?”
“Almost,” Mafia says running his hands through his hair to fix it and standing up from the bed.
“I’m coming in,” Jenny says opening the door.
Mafia hurries across the room and attacks his tie again. He watches from the mirror as Jenny enters the room and softly closes the door behind her. She’s wearing a plain black dress that stops just above her knees with three-quarter inch sleeves and her expression is one of concern. “I thought I’d come help,” she’s says walking up to Mafia and batting his hands away from the tie.
“I hate these things,” Mafia says lifting his chin.
Jenny smiles. “It must be a guy thing. Dad has a hard time with his too. I used to tie it for him all the time.” She finishes the knot and pats the tie down. “There.”
“Thanks,” Mafia says turning back to the mirror and admiring her work.
“I’ll get your jacket,” Jenny says.
Mafia nods his head and gingerly touches the red hair ribbon. Gently, he picks it up and begins to sweep his hair into a ponytail.
“Here, let me,” Jenny says, crossing the room with the jacket and picking up the brush.
“I can do it,” Mafia says, pulling his hair back and fastening it at the base of his head with the red ribbon. He catches Jenny’s reflection in the mirror and realizes he said that harsher then he meant too. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”
Jenny blinks and smiles sadly at him. “It’s okay. I know how hard today is for you.”
“Yeah,” Mafia says looking away.
“Here,” Jenny says softly while shaking out the jacket. She holds it out to him and Mafia shrugs into it, as Jenny holds the ponytail up. She reaches up and smoothes the jacket over his shoulders.
“This is it, isn’t it?” Mafia says shakily.
Jenny meets his eyes in the mirror. “We’ll be there the whole time.”
***********************************
“How’s he been?” Brad asks nervously adjusting his tie.
“About as good as can be expected,” Helen answers sitting on their bed and scratching Momo behind the ears. “A little distant, hasn’t been eating much, but I think he’s getting a little better. Once he gets today put behind him things should get easier.” She walks over and helps Brad with his tie. “I’m a little more worried about you, actually.”
“Me?” Brad says surprised. “Why?”
“You’ve been working too hard,” Helen answers patting his tie, “and you haven’t been sleeping well.”
“It’s that damn insurance company,” Brad says wearily. “Listening to them you would think David burnt down his own house.”
Helen finishes tying Brad’s tie and her arms drop away. She looks at him shocked. “Why on earth would they think that?”
“No idea,” Brad says picking up his jacket. “Common sense says David would have at least made sure his family was out of the house. I’ve never heard of anyone burning down their own house for the insurance then going to bed to die in the flames.”
“I thought the police ruled the fire an accident,” Helen says questionably. “Why are they doing this?”
“My guess, they don’t want to pay,” Brad says. “Officially the fire was ruled an accident, but with unknown origins. Apparently this leaves an opening for the insurance company to send in the hounds.”
“That isn’t right,” Helen says indignantly.
“I don’t think they care about what’s right,” Brad sighs, “just what hits the bottom line.”
“I hope the life insurance is being more humane,” Helen says readjusting a stray strand of hair in the mirror. Catching Brad’s reflection she asks, “What?”
Brad stands behind her with his shoulders slumped. He takes a breath and looks up at her as she turns to face him. “The life insurance company is working with the home owners insurance. Neither will pay until their investigations are completed.”
“This is outrageous!”
“I know,” Brad sighs.
“How can they think David would kill himself, and put his family at risk?” Helen paces in front of the mirror. “It’s preposterous! Slanderous! It lacks any common sense and it should be criminal!” She stops her pacing and stares at Brad, her eyes ablaze in anger. “And I’ll tell you another thing…this wouldn’t happen back home!”
Brad smiles at her, in all her righteous fury. Helen, always the calm, cool, and collected one, is one who rarely gets fired up over anything. ‘Anger blocks reason and logic, the only tools we humans have against the chaos,’ is the saying of her life, but even she can give way to anger if the cause is great enough. For Helen there is no cause greater than injustice, and judging by her reaction, these foolish insurance companies are in for a fight. Brad smiles more widely. “Yes, well, we Americans just can’t stand the idea of bowing before royalty.”
“Humph,” Helen states.
“Let’s forget about the insurance for now,” Brad reasons placing his hands on Helen’s shoulders. “We can worry about that tomorrow. Today, we have something much more important to do.”
Helen closes her eyes. “You’re right. Today is a day of mourning.” She pats Brad’s hand on her shoulder before turning away and opening the bedroom door. Momo jumps off the bed and bounces out the door as Helen turns back to face Brad. “But tomorrow, if those insurance companies want to play hard ball, I’ll play.”
Brad chuckles as he follows her out the door and down the hall. Jenny’s bedroom door is open, and the room within is empty. Descending the stairs, he glances around the front door and notices Mafia, sitting with his head in his hands, and Jenny, who gazes up at him. Helen gently lays her hand on Mafia’s shoulder, and he glances up at her. “It’s time,” she says. Mafia nods and stands up. At the bottom of the steps, Brad opens the front door and holds it open for everyone. Mafia closes his eyes briefly and begins to walk out the door.
“No, you have to stay here,” Helen says bending down to Momo, who sits on the bottom steps with his head cocked to the left. His warm, brown eyes stare up at Helen pleadingly. “Don’t you do that. I’m not taking you.”
Jenny narrows her eyes at Helen, but quickly catches her father’s stare. Rolling her eyes, she catches up with Mafia and grabs a hold of his arm. Together they walk to the car ahead of Brad and Helen, with Jenny murmuring, “It’s going to be okay. You’ll get through this.”
***********************************
The sun shines brightly down on the small gathering of mourners. A gentle breeze flits through the leaves on the trees, causing shadows to dance on the grass carpet, and softly floats past the mourners, carelessly rippling through the black dresses. Many of those standing ignored the subtle swishing of their garments and continued to stare at the priest, wipe at their eyes, or bow their heads, either to gaze at the casket or the small group of mourners who were seated.
Natsumi, one of those seated, stared straight at the casket in front of her. A small veil covers her eyes from wandering looks though she never looks around. She can feel the delicate pressure of a hand rubbing her arm, and she doesn’t need to look to know Chris, sitting on her right, is trying to reassure her. On her left, Setsuko’s mother weeps openly barely murmuring “Why? Why? Why?”
“Now, let us bow our heads to pray.”
The priest’s words seem to travel to Natsumi through a long tunnel, echoing in her ears yet so far away the words run into each other and have no meaning. She continues to stare at Setsuko’s casket as the other mourners bow their heads, causing a few to gaze curiously. The priest’s prayer falls on her near deaf ears and much too soon the other mourners begin to block her vision as they file past the casket one last time.
“Nat,” Chris says placing her hand on Natsumi’s back.
Natsumi crumbles at the sound of Chris’ voice. Her head falls so that her chin rests on her chest, her shoulders slump, and her eyes close. She feels Chris leaning toward her and the slight movement of her hair as Chris whispers her name. She opens her eyes to stare down at her lap, the white orchid, Setsuko’s favorite, held loosely in her hand is bleary.
“Nat?” Chris whispers, rubbing small circles in Natsumi’s back.
Natsumi’s hand tightens around the delicate flower. Raising her head, she catches sight of Setsuko’s casket, which appears to glow in the golden light and unable to hold them back, the tears fall down her cheeks and her body shakes faintly. “I can’t,” she barely whispers.
“I’m right here,” Chris encourages. “I’ll be with you the whole time. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Natsumi reaches up and wipes the tears off her cheeks. “I know you will,” she says, “I’m just not ready to say goodbye.”
“I don’t think anyone is ever ready,” Chris says understandingly.
“I know,” Natsumi sniffs. She watches the line of mourners pass the casket and say their condolences to Setsuko’s parents. Setsuko’s mother stares numbly, as if she can’t see anyone, and it’s her father who greets the line, shaking their hands and accepting their sympathies.
Still rubbing Natsumi’s back gently, Chris waits patiently for Natsumi to gather the resolve needed to get up. She stares out at the dwindling crowd and notices that many of Setsuko’s coworkers attended. Her eyes meet briefly with one woman staring at them, her purple hair hangs down to her waist and her golden eyes appear to be staring at Natsumi instead of the both of them. The woman notices Chris staring at her and a slight blush of embarrassment colors her cheeks. Before Chris can think about it, beside her Natsumi stands up.
“It’s time,” Natsumi says, more to herself than Chris. She walks to the end of the short line, Chris following close behind, and holds the orchid close to her chest. Slowly the line finishes filing past and much too soon, Natsumi is standing beside the casket. Chris watches as Natsumi brings the orchid up to her lips and softly kisses it. Natsumi unwillingly places the flower on the casket, her finger tips grazing the smiling picture of Setsuko that sits on top of it.
Chris watches Natsumi, whose fingers haven’t left Setsuko’s picture. The seconds pass and turn into minutes, and Chris realizes that Natsumi isn’t going to leave on her own. “Come on Nat,” Chris whispers gently but firmly.
Natsumi half-heartedly nods her head, a single tear dropping from her chin, and begins to walk away from the casket. She walks straight to Setsuko’s parents, Setsuko’s mother grabbing on to her as if she was a life line. Natsumi stare into Setsuko’s mother’s brown eyes, the exact same shade as her daughters, and says, “I’m so sorry.”
“Why?” Setsuko’s mother sobs. “Why?”
Fresh tears fall from Natsumi’s eyes. “I d…don’t know,” she cries in a broken voice.
Setsuko’s mother breaks down and buries her head into her husband’s chest. Chris’ heart breaks to hear this woman crying. Natsumi looks at Setsuko’s father and repeats, “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you,” he says as if unsure what to say. “Excuse us.”
Natsumi nods her head and watches as Setsuko’s father leads her mother away from the casket. The sounds of Setsuko’s mother’s sobs drift back to her on the wind and Natsumi turns to find herself facing the priest.
“I’m sorry for you loss,” the priest says, gently but firmly grasping Natsumi’s hand.
Natsumi barely nods her head. She looks up into the priest’s face to find clear, blue eyes watching her in concern. This is the first time Natsumi has really looked at the priest, so lost in her own suffering to take much notice to the others gathered for Setsuko. He’s young, no older than his early thirties, with shaggy light brown hair that fell into his eyes and he stood more than half a foot taller than her.
“It was a beautiful service Father Wright,” Chris says.
Father Wright nods his head at her. “I only hope it can bring some small comfort to those who remain behind.”
“I’m sure anything you say brings comfort,” Chris smiles with a wicked glint in her eyes.
“Umm, thank you,” Father Wright says taken back.
“I’m sure Setsuko would have like it,” Natsumi says, watching more people trickle into the cemetery, all dressed in mourning and reluctantly walking past the few remaining people gathered around Setsuko’s casket.
“Is that the Flood funeral?” Chris asks before she notices Brad and family walking past.
“Yes,” Father Wright says solemnly. “Please excuse me.”
“Of course,” Chris says stepping aside and allowing the priest to pass. Standing by Natsumi, Chris watches Father Wright as he walks away. “Ummm,” Chris says, “nice ass.”
“Christina!” Natsumi exclaims watching her friend stare after Father Wright. Rarely is she taken back by Chris’ eccentric ways, but that just came from nowhere.
“What can I say,” Chris says shrugging her shoulders and continuing to watch Father Wright walk away. “I have a thing for priests…especially young, vigor, drop-dead gorgeous priests.” Chris looks at Natsumi, a playful smile on her face. “I’m so going to Hell.”
Natsumi stares at Chris for a moment before cracking a smile. Suddenly, Natsumi’s laughing softly and Chris’ smile widens. “It’s good to hear you laugh,” Chris says. “You’re going to get through this.”
“I know,” Natsumi says smiling, “and it’s because I have you as a friend.”
Chris puts her arm around Natsumi’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s go.” They turn around to leave and are stopped by the sight of the woman Chris noticed earlier.
“Natsumi.”
Natsumi stops and stare at the woman. “Akiko.”
Chris looks from one to the other. “You mean,” she says addressing Natsumi, “this is Akiko. The Akiko.”
“Yes,” Natsumi says as Akiko glances at Chris in confusion. “Akiko this is Chris.”
“Nice to meet you,” Akiko says before focusing on Natsumi. “I was wondering if I could talk to you.” Natsumi looks back at her and as the seconds pass Akiko becomes flustered. “I d…didn’t mean to intrude. I understand if you don’t want…”
“No,” Natsumi says softly and Akiko stops talking. “I think we should talk but not here.”
“Thank you,” Akiko says gushing with gratitude.
“Chris,” Natsumi says, “why don’t you go and pay your respects to the Flood’s.”
Chris looks at her questionably. “Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you alone.”
Natsumi smiles at her. “I won’t be alone. Akiko and I need to talk and I think it’s best if we talk alone.”
“Okay,” Chris says, “If you’re sure.”
“I am,” Natsumi replies.
“I’ll come by later and check on you,” Chris says giving an encouraging squeeze to Natsumi’s arm.
“I’ll look forward to it,” Natsumi says.
“It was nice to meet you,” Chris says nodding at Akiko who nods back. She watches as Natsumi and Akiko walk away and join the last few stragglers leaving. A few people walk ahead of them and one woman is walking alongside the trees bordering the cemetery and the glare of a windshield blinds her for a moment. Chris covers her eyes, to block the sun and briefly searches for the woman before giving up after seeing Natsumi and Akiko cross the street. Confident that Natsumi will be okay till later, she turns to pay her respects to Mafia.
Did you ever look at a picture of yourself and see a stranger in the background? Makes you wonder how many strangers have a picture of you.
) - i like the interaction between Carmen and Trenton (and pudding! heh)
I'm really pushing not to have another month pass before the next chapter.
Poor Mafia... he's the only one left now. Brie....
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