Spoiler! :
It was weird, to say the least. I walked by the sniffling girls, and my sobbing grandmother. I laid a hand on my twin brother’s shoulder, who was silent and moody. I knew what he was thinking. It should have been him, instead of me, or better, neither of us. My mother sat next to him, a tear streaming down her face. She wore the lace gloves I had begged so many times to borrow. She stared into space, and my father rubbed his hand on her back in slow, smooth circles. She shook him off.
The priest stood in front of the solid oak coffin, lid closed. I stared at it, knowing I was in there. I shivered. The priest looked around pausing his speech.
“I’d like to call up Tyler Woodridge.” He said. My brother stood up, and unfolded a little card from his suit pocket. I had never seen him looking so…tidy. His hair was swept from his Tiffany box blue eyes and his face was scrubbed clean. I remembered forcing him on to chairs to make sure his face was clean for different events.
“Compared to me, my sister was always more reckless. Amara never thought twice about anything, and always seemed to go with the flow. Sometimes she’d even bribe me to join her in those crazy schemes of hers, and we’d usually end up okay.” I scoffed. My plans were always flawless.
“Although she was crazy, though, Amara was always kind and sweet. A little forceful, like she had to make you love her,” a little laugh rang from my best friend, Jules. She was no doubt remembering how I trailed after her for a week in kindergarten, making her become my closest friend, “I’ve gotten through a lot with Amara, and she was always there, always that one constant thing that changed on a daily basis. I was lucky to have a twin, and doubly lucky to have Amara as a sister.” I smiled at this. Tyler and I had suffered through years of arguing, and eventually our parents’ divorce. I hid his bad marks, and he lied about were I was on late Saturday nights. I kept his secrets, and he kept mine. It was the way we worked.
“I could tell her anything, and she’d keep it. Amara was my favorite, and I’m sad to see her go.” He stared at my father for a moment, a dark look in his eyes. Tyler looked back at his card, crumpling it up, muttered a thank you, and left the stage. He glanced at my coffin, at the gleaming brown wood, and frowned slightly. The priest announced a short break, and everyone got p to catch some air.
My mother, father and brother remained in the church. My mother was nonresponsive, but my father stared at Tyler.
“Why did you stop?” he asked. Tyler looked away.
“I was finished.” He said simply, pushing his sleeves up. My father frowned. He was displeased. Tyler had lied.
“I was gonna say how you killed her.” Tyler said, “then I decided that that wouldn’t be acceptable.”
“Your also be lying.” My father said tersely. Tyler stared into his eyes. They were different. My father had always been quick to lose his temper, automatically assuming the worst in everyone. Tyler, however, believed that everyone was a lover, and was always frighteningly calm. The mix of their personalities led to early morning fights about how Tyler should ‘man up’, when they thought my mother and I were asleep, and couldn’t hear.
“I wouldn’t be.” Tyler said. He stood up, crossing his arms. My father stood up as well, and they faced off in a scene that I had imganied but never seen.
“Stop it.” My father growled. Tyler just shrugged it off.
“You know it was your fault.” Tyler said. “if you didn’t make her hate you, she wouldn’t have left that night.” I winced, but it was true. I remember having a full blown argument about my current boyfriend, and how he was a bad influence. I remember grabbing a sweater, my car keys and wallet and taking my parents car, driving away with him still yelling at the car that zoomed away.
“Stop it.” My father repeated. He stood up and moved closer to Tyler, who stood his ground.
“It’s true,” Tyler taunted. He could see the rage in our father’s eyes, but it didn’t scare him. Our father slapped him across the cheek with harsh ringing sound. Our father shoved him backwards, so he fell backwards. I winced. I could remember our father getting violent, with both me and my brother, after he found out his grades, or my whereabouts, or any one, simple lie.
My mother finally snapped back into reality. She turned around to see Tyler on the ground, and my father pushing up the sleeves of his suit jacket.
“Jonathan, don’t. Really, Jon. Now isn’t the time.” She said, but her voice was empty and lacked valor. My father punched Tyler again and his lip split and bled.
“Jon…” my mother called again. I forced myself to look away. I had always heard it, in the late or early hours when they assumed I was asleep. I had never seen it. I had seen the aftermath, took care of the welts and bruises that covered my brother. And I couldn’t do that anymore. I could only sit and watch.
“It wasn’t her you hated.” Tyler said, “you know it. It was me, always me.” I bit my tongue. My mother got up, and tried to pull her ex-husband away. She got thrown back as well. Tyler gritted his teeth against his fathers assaults. He had bared worse, and we both knew it.
“Shut up, right now.” Our father growled. My stomach curled as he hit Tyler again. My brother inhaled and exhaled deeply, as if that could help him ignore what was going on.
“You’re just angry because I loved her.”
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