I barely get past the doorway and into the hall when I hear a man yelling at someone. For a second, it's like my father has come back to life. Just great! Even when he's dead, I can't escape him. What is he going on about now? Turning my head toward the direction of the shouting, I'm temporarily relieved when I see that it's someone else's father screaming at them for once.
Unfortunately, my relief is short lived when I notice the victim of the man's outburst. A pale skinned girl with long black hair stands there in her mourning clothes, sobbing hysterically. Her eyes are swollen and her cheeks sunken in. I know it's stupid but Im envious of the fact that she can just let go of her emotions like that. I don't know who died but she sure looks like death.
Maybe while the grim reaper is working that scythe like a strip pole, I can hitch a ride back to hell with him. Damn it! I'm sorry… That was insensitive. The thing is, I tend to use crude humor as a coping mechanism. Just add that to the growing list of why I'm not really fit for society. The angry man looks worse if that makes it any better. His bearded face is covered in marks and he's so skinny that his clothes hang on him like they would on a wire mannequin.
"That bitch fucked me over! 19 years I been thinkin' im your father and now she wanna tell me she was already knocked up when I married her!", he shouts at the girl while shoving a piece of paper at her.
"Dad, please!", she cries, trying to get close enough to hold onto him.
"I ain't your daddy! Don't you ever come back around my house, you hear me? That slut mother of yours shoulda just taken you with her!"
As he starts stomping away, she tries to grab him but he pushes her off and I don't know if it's from the force or just because she's lost her will to fight, but she falls to the floor with a loud smacking sound. He leaves her crying on the cold tile of the funeral home hall and hauls ass out of the building. I don't know what the hell I just walked into but I feel awful for her.
"Dad!", she screams. "Dad!"
I don't know if she knows this, but I'm pretty positive he's not coming back. What do I do? Do I do anything at all? Am I supposed to walk away and pretend I didn't see anything? That's probably the right thing to do, right? Yes, of course! I'm supposed to leave… But she's so sad. If I leave, will she be okay? What if she isn't okay? Shit. I'm supposed to help her, aren't I?
Okay, so how do I do this? Come on, Eddy boy. You can do this. Just go up to her and offer your hand. That's what a cool guy would do. Wait! I'm totally not a cool guy! In the midst of arguing with myself, I realize I can't hear her anymore and I make a decision to glance in her direction. As usual, this was a mistake. Where there was so much emotion just a few moments ago, now there is nothing.
She's staring off into the abyss and I can tell that all she can see is darkness. In her mind right now, this isn't a funeral home. There aren't people walking around her, wondering if she's gone crazy. She's somewhere else, lost in her own mind. I know that place… Not her mind, of course. I don't even know her. But I know the bleak world in my own head all too well. She's wandering.
People are beginning to whisper and then I notice that some teenagers are looking at her legs. Her skirt is too short to be sitting on the floor that way. Oh no! Just like that, I begin to realize how pretty her legs are. Knock that shit off, you pervert! Can't you read the room? This isn't the time for you to be daydreaming about touching some random chick's legs. People are staring. Do something, Edward!
After all my internal dialogue, in the end, I react on a whim. This is what gets me into trouble, in case you didn't know. I undo the button from my jacket and march to her like I have the balls of a bodybuilder. Not one that takes steroids, you know. Just a really buff dude who hits the gym and eats healthy. I'm talking grande gonads, okay? Anyways, I whip my jacket off and as soon as I'm in front of her, I lay it down over her bare legs, being very careful not to touch her.
That would be rude, right? Then she'd think I'm a bad guy and it would make her day even worse. Let's not have any of that. After I lay it over her, I stand back up and freeze. Now what? I didn't think this through! Do I walk away? Where do I go? But that's my jacket! I mean, I kind of like it. But it's for a good cause, right? No! What is she going to do with some strange dude's expensive suit jacket? That would be weird… As if this isn't.
As I stand there in front of her, I can feel her slowly look up at me. People are talking and I can only imagine what they're saying. Not again! Think, Edward! What do I do? Well, here goes nothing! I figure that one person sitting in the middle of the floor looks like someone just fell off their rocker on the way to crazy town. But two makes it a party! People love parties. I turn on my heel and without thinking it over, I drop it like it's hot, sitting criss cross applesauce right beside her.
Maybe she won't notice... Nope, she definitely noticed. As I stare ahead with my back straight and my chest puffed out like a very fancy bird, her eyes silently interrogate me. I can feel myself shaking in my boots and when a sudden loud growling of her belly cuts through the silence, I flinch and our eyes meet for the first time. Wow! Those are some really nice eyebrows.
I'm pretty sure my heart stops beating and the world ceases to turn while I look dead into her beautiful, big brown eyes. She blinks and it feels like life goes in slow motion for a split second while her long eyelashes fall and rise. What happened to my heart? It just stopped and now it's pounding? Think, you idiot, think! I am thinking! That's the problem here! I'm thinking too much!
Well, the lie detector says that's a lie because if I really had been thinking as much as I thought I was, I probably wouldn't have chosen to utter the exact words that I let escape my big fat awkward mouth just then. I take in a rather large gulp of air and as my anxiety swells up through my throat, I say the most ridiculously stupid thing I've said in a very long time.
"M-m-my name is E-e-edward and my dad k-killed my mom b-but he killed hims-s-self too! And they're d-dead! I'm h-here for the f-f-funeral a-and y-you are t-t-too! But y-your own f-funeral… No! N-not y-yours. Y-y-you're alive. I'm s-s-sorry! I overh-heard and I'm all a-alone j-just l-l-like you a-and…", I blurt out like the most epic motormouth in all of existence.
Before I finish making a total fool of myself though, she gently raises the tip of her finger and places it softly on my lips. Oh… Shit! Please, mister reaper, take me now!