grief for a love
996 Words
I might have been a sheep in my previous life: trying to run away has become a specialty passed down to me in this, human life.
I know I had to say something, see the face, and fact check if really it was Gabriel. But I had strangely turned cold feet–as if ready to run off from my marriage–which were ready to take off from the scene, the hell with Kiran trying to throw me under that black non-existent bus.
It's just Gabriel, Vhrea, like any other past acquaintance of yours. I chanted in my head while my actions proved otherwise as I stood up and steadily turned to face a shocked Kriag, and then rushed to make a hasty exit.
"Where are you going?" His murky pressing voice confirmed I wasn't hallucinating.
"I . ." Don't know. "Good Evening Everyone!" Mom's voice in the microphone saved me from facing this situation as everyone focused to the centre of the Hall where Mom stood holding a black mic; dressed in a black tea length frock and matching shoes.
"Richard has always been my man from the moment I set my eyes on me and today even if my eyes are begging to have him here, it isn't possible. He must have not been my man after all. He must have been very beloved to Jesus, but I am thankful to my lord who had still sent Richard into my life and made it so beautiful that now it looks so bland without his presence, sight and fragrance. I will try my best to be happy and live healthy and fit, for him."
My mouth felt dry and tears welled in my eyes; I miss you Dad; Mom has always been an eloquent speaker. But this hit different, her tone and the heart-breaking emotion in the speech brought back all my memories of that night. Why did I allow him to come for dinner near my office?
If he wouldn’t have come for BBQ that un-fateful day, he would still be beside me. If I had known I would’ve really made sure that he never set his foot in a fifty kilometres radius around me.
"Thank you for coming today and remembering Richard for tonight. Let's make a toast for him." She offered, and clinked her wine glass to the mic. The jangle brought another fit of anguish drowning sorrow.
People around the hall lifted up their glasses of wine, water and juices in unison. "In remembrance of the most humble, sweet, amazing and talented man, Richard Ashtrick." Mom softly made her final saluting comment.
"I miss him." I mumbled to myself, as my lungs felt like all the air has been sucked out from inside me and safety pins puncturing my meat.
"Vhrea." I closed my eyes in a futile attempt to stop my tears and I felt Julian's familiar cedar scent inundating me in a strong bear hug.
"Jules, I want Dad back. This is chea..ting." I wrapped my arms tightly around his torso.
"Don't say that. Let him be happy where he is." He said, cooingly he slowly ran his fingers through my hair: soothing and mildly consoling.
I chocked between my tears, "But, I am not happy. I want him!"
"I can't give you that but I promise I will give you the head of everyone involved behind the murder. I promise." His words felt so cold and deadly as if his only reason to live this life is to comply the promise; if not his, then it is at least mine. I will do anything and every possible thing to find him, or her?
"Come with me. Let's get you drunk." He said, pulling me towards some unnamed door, strangling my neck in the process to drag me along; he should learn to respect the five inches height difference we have!
"I don't want to drink." I protested. "At least that would be better than drinking the mix of your tears and snot!"
"Leave me!" I tried pushing him while he shushed me down with the action of a finger on his lips. Opening the door it led to a small library, a well maintained, probably even used regularly one, as the books and shelves looked speckless. Is he planning to drink sitting between books?
Seems like a no.
He continued our little detour from the hall, to another metal door as a small balcony with a pub table supported by two chairs greeted us. It looked like a mini storage of drinks collection and the downstairs view of the flower garden, which was decorated with small yellow lights gave such an amazing vibe: rich, classy and cosy.
"What do you want? Alcohol, Brandy? Wine? Red, white?" He started throwing too many options that it felt as if he was the owner of this place, by chance, is he?
"Water?" Julian scowled at my choice. "Let's share some sibling info while we are on this. Let's go with Red."
He was the type who acts first and asks later, so, by now the drink was already halfway into one of the wine glasses. Sometimes I wished that this is something I had had of his. The art of living in ease whenever necessary.
“Anything to bond.” I replied not because I was completely looking forward for some get together with Julian show, instead an escape to avoid feeling guilty for something I was not responsible of, and the things which are not in my control.
If it is my seepage mechanism to deal Daddy dearest’s death by blaming a partial fault and a shamefaced culpability on myself, that my brain wants me to believe, or I want my head to believe that, whatever might be the case, but, I deserve a happy closure myself, and this is the right time to start preaching my mind to get drunk and float into the abyss of forgiveness.
- Writer
