Chapter One - Departed Love

The sound of an organ filled my ears. It was the first beautiful thing my ears had heard in a very long time. My eyes were shut, taking in the last moment of peace, serenity, and quiet, before it ended and something new begun. It stopped abruptly, and now the voice of an old man filled the congregation. I wasn’t listening, for I had heard the same thing over and over again. Yes he will be missed, yes he was a good man. I know, I know. Can’t a person ever move on in life?
“Graham Richards will be a very missed man. He was respected man, who unfortunately deceased at an early age,” the voice said. I was thinking about how annoying this old man’s voice was. It was now all I could hear, aside from the sniffles that seemed to be scattered across the crowd. I had already done my crying, done my grieving. Yes, of course I will miss my father, but I had moved on, just as he had.
The next hour of the funeral was dry and boring. I had never been to a funeral before, and I never wished to go back. My opinion on the event was that you sat there, hearing someone state the obvious, and listen to sobbing women. It was a distasteful event, and like I said before, I never wished to return. The funeral ended and we exited to the courtyard.
“Hi sweetie, I would like you to meet Carley Vauche,” my mother said.
“Hi Ms. Vauche,” I said, trying my hardest to sound like I cared in the slightest. I had now noticed that my mother had been crying. Under her eyes it was red, and I could tell that she was trying to be strong for us.
“Please, call me Ms. Carley!” she replied. This was something that I truly hated. Why would someone want to be called by their first name, if Ms. /Mr. came before it?
“Ms. Vauche will be helping us make the move. She is a realtor,” my mother said.
“The move?”
“Yes of course Erik, we have to move.”
“What?!”
This time it was Ms. Vauche who spoke. “Yes, you can no longer support yourselves. You are not financially set.”
“What the hell?” I shouted. No, we were never rich, but Dad must have left something for us.
“Sweetie, please. She is just trying to help. The vacation we just took, on top of bad insurance… just it’s not what we expected. We have to move.” My mother was trying her hardest not to start balling. I could tell. The way she slightly twitched the side of her face, as if she were trying to smile, but couldn’t quite accomplish the goal.
Ms. Vauche, or excuse me, Carley, walked off in the other direction. My mother followed. I saw the coffin being driven off in the hearse. My mother had decided that she did not want to witness the actual burial of my father.
“Alright Lin, where…” I heard Ms. Carley saying, but slowly she faded out with the sound of the crowd. I just stood there, not knowing what to do with myself. I was furious. Why the hell did we have to move? And where to? I was in love with California, I could never leave. I felt a tap on my shoulder, and turned to see who it was.
“Hello son, how are you doing?” It was the priest.
“Never better,” I said with a sneer.
“Ha, very funny, but really, are you alright?”
“Of course, thanks.” I said this lying through my teeth. I was the furthest thing from fine. I was miserable. Never better-ha-that was funny. Lying to a priest, what a sick deed, but at the moment I did not care.
“You are very aware that your father will be missed, right?” he said, trying to sound consoling.
“Yes, I am very aware,” I said, stressing the word very. How many times have I been told this, um let’s see, maybe 5 billion. Yes, I hated exaggerations, but as I said before, I didn’t really care.
“Good, I’m very glad. You know that you can come and talk to me at any time.”
“Yes, yes, I know.”
“And you can talk to…”
“God, yes I can talk to God,” I interrupted.
“It’s like you read my mind.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
“Please don’t blame your mom for this,” he said, changing his tone, now sounding very serious.
“Well duh, I mean, yes I know,” I replied. Of course it wasn’t my mom’s bloody fault. What the hell was he thinking?
“Just checking, I mean sometimes kids come up with some crazy stuff.”
“Yes, kids do, and I suppose teenagers could as well.” He chuckled at my remark, looking as if he thought my comment was obscene.
“Just enjoy your youth wile it lasts. There is a reason God gave it to you.”
“Yeah, God knows everything I suppose.”
“Yeah… I suppose he does,” the priest said. For a moment I thought he was catching onto my losing-my-damned-faith issue I was going through.
“Ok, well I have to go. It was a pleasure talking to you.” Yeah, that would be the day…
“Likewise, stop by anytime.”
“I doubt it, I’m leaving this place.”
“What?”
“I am moving, and God ain’t gunna do a bloody thing about it.” I could tell that he was about to scold me, so before I gave him the opportunity I walked in the other direction to catch up with Mom and Ms. Bloody Carley Vauche. When I did I stayed back about ten feet.
“I thought maybe we could move to the east coast, maybe somewhere like North Carolina.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My mom was already considering a different state. Los Angeles was my home. I was born and raised here. That’s when the reality that my dad being a doctor was the only way we could afford living here.
Reality sucks, and I found that out the hard way. The truth bit me in the butt.
“Yes, well you guys have a pretty good amount of money, well at least for North Carolina! Anywhere you think you would want to live?” Ms. Vauche said. ‘At least for North Carolina…’- I hated the way she said that. It was one of those fingernails-on-the-chalkboard moments.
“Um, not particularly. The only cities I know of are Charlotte and Raleigh. I don’t think I want to live in a city-city, but I don’t want to live in Raleigh.”
Ms. Vauche again; “Well there are plenty of little towns that surround Charlotte. I know of Huntersville, Davidson, Cornelius, and there are some others. Oh, and they have a wonderful lake there; Lake Norman.”
“I don’t think I could live on a lake, you know, after what happened.”
“Yes, yes, I understand. I heard that Davidson was nice. Would you like me to look around there?”
“Um, sure, that would be nice.” I stepped into the scene.
“Yes, I am with my mom, no more lakes. But could we possibly move anywhere closer?” I asked. I mean from the west coast to the east coast is a long shot.
“Sweetie, you see I need to get away from all of this mess, as far away as possible.”
“But…” I was cut off.
“Sweetie, your mother is right,” Ms. Vauche said. Sweetie, what the heck? This was one of those what-the-hell-do-you-think-you-are-saying moments.
“Please, call me Erik,” I said, using her remark, but this time with more of a sneer.
“Yes, sure, no problem,” she said, seeming to trail off at the end of the sentence. I nailed her; knocked her off her feat. Not literally of course, but my harsh words were just the beginning of the harassment to come. She was in for it, she was in for it big time.