A Cardiac Mistake

The Funeral, A Prologue

Mom's shoulders were drenched from the pouring rain, but I was worse than that. I was drenched, but my friend, Max, made an effort in keeping me under the umbrella. He had this mixed expression on his face: sadness and worry. He was sad indeed, but I felt a hundred times worse than that.

Ben, my uncle, was still talking to the people around him, accepting condolences for the brother he had lost. Mother on the other hand was quiet, still staring at the coffin that housed my dad.

Max, as if not knowing what to do, made more effort to cover me under the umbrella. "I'm fine," I muttered, getting out of the umbrella, my vans getting drenched more than possible. He tried to pull me under, but I pulled away from him, snapping, "I said I'm fine."

Regretting my actions, I was about to talk to him again, when Ben placed a hand on my shoulder and said, "Sam, we need to talk." His lips were quivering. I had only seen this happen once, when we were at my dad's deathbed. Now another tormenting memory probably haunted him. And I knew what it was about. "It's about where you're going to live for senior year. Until you turn 18."

I wanted to avoid the subject as much as possible. I knew this would have happened on my dad's death. I pulled my shoulder away, stepping into the rain again, catching other's attention in the process.

Let them stare. I thought, staring at my uncle's hard grey eyes. Let them.

"Sorry Sam," Ben apologized, looking downcast.

My mother grabbed my shoulder, not in a forceful way, but in a way that made it seem like what I had just done, humiliated her. In a sense, this is what I disliked about my mother – that whatever I did, my upbringing or whatever, made her think it was dad's fault.

"You're a girl. A lady," She chastised whenever we met at least once a month. "You're supposed to act like one, Samantha!"

Now I stood in the rain, drenched, with people staring at me and gossiping probably how I was such an 'unkempt' daughter. I could feel the sneer creeping in my face as I imagined how I would be a disobeying daughter in her new family.

I was in the middle of thinking mischievous thoughts, when her new husband slid a towel over my head. He covered me from everyone and hugged me tightly. I felt weird, being hugged by a stranger, but I didn't bother refusing.

It wasn't her new husband I disliked. It was mother herself.

"You don't have to treat me as your father," He said in a hushed voice, probably hiding away from my mother. "You can just call me Philip, and we'll be friends. And it's okay if you aren't lady-like like your mom hopes you to be. Just stay the same, follow the house rules, and we'll be fine."

"Can I party all night and visit home sometimes?"

He chuckled, patting my cheeks as if trying to warm me. "That's fine with me." He said.

"Maybe a house with your mom and her husband in it wouldn't be that bad," My friend commented earlier. And maybe, just maybe, life in Philadelphia wouldn't be that bad.