Morana

"Are you sure you're finished?" I asked as Azi pushed the paper plate away from himself. It was always so hard to tell if he'd eaten until he was full, or if he just got tired of trying to find acceptable food. When you get grossed out by certain temperatures, eating can be a race against yourself.

"I'm sure. I promise I ate enough." He smiled up at me from his seat and I nodded. I wish I could make that struggle easier for him, but for now I focused on accommodating the requests I could.

I was grateful the curtains in the kitchen window hadn't been replaced yet. Thin fabric hung from a rusty old rod above the sink, giving me the perfect view of our front yard. With the lights dimmed, which they were at the time, I could watch Cade lean into the front seat of the family car and help buckle his mother in.

"Seems like a good kid," Daddy Joe said from behind me. His hip leaned against the counter. I felt my cheeks flush having been caught staring. I should be minding my own business.

"He's cool," I answered nonchalantly. Truth was I didn't know all that much about him. He was tall, maybe six foot already, with dark brown hair which he kept a bit shaggy and dark eyes. I hadn't quite figured out the exact color of those eyes yet, but I would make that a priority the next time I saw him up close.

"Dad says he's handling it pretty well for a kid your age," Daddy Joe added.

I wasn't sure what that meant. How were kids my age supposed to handle losing their grandfather? I had no frame of reference since I'd only ever met my grandfather on Daddy Joe's side. I'd seen other teens in and out of our family business, but if you'd asked me there wasn't one way to react.

"I don't know," I replied with a shrug. "He's quiet."

"Well, he's alright in my book since he helped us out with Azi." Daddy Joe made his way to my small brother and mussed up his hair. In addition to the difficulty eating, my brother also had other sensory issues. He hated being touched, however, Dad, Daddy Joe, and I did not count.

I leaned forward on my elbows, settling in to watch what happened next. I'd already been caught being curious, so why not see the entire scene. Cade stepped back from the SUV and made sure his mother was completely tucked inside before he carefully closed the door. Over the roof of the car, Cade's father gave his son a nod. There was a pause too, one that spoke of many nonverbal things. It was as if a whole conversation took place in the beat of one large breath.

Cade's dad climbed into the SUV and fired up the engine. The other cars that had lined our small street had long since left, leaving a vast emptiness when his father pulled away from the curb. Cade's hands found his pockets and he stared after the car as it drove away. I expected him to get quickly into his truck and flee the scene as well, but instead his head slowly lowered until he appeared to be staring at his shoes.

Heat spread across my cheek again, only this time it was from the embarrassment of watching something so private from an upstairs window. But there was something about it that made it impossible to look away. For a second I thought he might fall asleep like that. His body was still, and nothing even hinted at what he might be thinking. I scooted closer to the window as if it were my distance keeping me from being able to figure him out. It was then that I saw the small rise and fall of his shoulder—the involuntary bounce of a body wracked with grief.

"No," I whispered into the silent kitchen. Azi and Daddy Joe had left to get ready for bed and I was alone at my window peering out onto something not meant for my eyes.

I couldn't remember the last time I had cried like Cade. I tended to keep my emotions to myself. I guess that was what Cade had been trying to do before I had quit minding my own business and started poking my nose and curiosity into his. But now I was invested. I wanted to make sure he got into his truck alright. I watched him for a few moments, tense from holding my position against the old yellow tile. It didn't really matter, he wouldn't hear me from all the way down there, but I didn't want to risk it. I already felt guilty for being there at all.

I must have watched hundreds of people grieving by this point in my life, but every so often a few of them would touch my heart in a way that made me feel their grief was shared. Usually it was the mother who got to me, the women who had lost a baby or maybe a young child. I felt their loss right in my heart like a knife slowly being pressed into my chest. Sometimes it was an elderly person, perhaps one who had lost their partner of decades and would be leaving our mortuary to go home to a truly empty house for the first time since they were young. Those are the moments when grief becomes this unseen force that permeates the room like a noxious cloud—so thick you choke on it.

Cade's grief felt more like a rising tide. The heaviness rising up within me until I had trouble breathing. It didn't stop there; the consuming sadness drown out my own heartbeat until each labored pump ached. I felt it clog my throat and then sting the backs of my eyes. If Cade hadn't stepped off the curb just then, it might have completely swallowed me up.

I watched him stop abruptly, pulling his hands from his pockets and bending down to examine something in the street. He picked up the tiny item and held it in his open palm. He clenched his fist around it and looked at the dark sky. For the first time, his free hand reached up to wipe at his face. Maybe I was wrong, but whatever was in his hand was causing more pain than I'd just witness before its discovery. He cocked his arm back to throw the wayward item, but at the last minute couldn't quite seem to bring himself to do it.

"Fuck!" I heard muffled through the glass between us. I scanned the block quickly to see if anyone would come outside. No one. His arm cocked back again, this time with more purpose and determination, but once again he couldn't do it. Instead, he tucked it into his pocket and yanked his keys from the other side.

It took him two tries to unlock his truck, the first time his key seemed to protest the idea of helping him escape from his agony. The whole set fell from his angry grip and clattered to the street below. The next time he was able to get inside and even I could sense the relief from my perch above.

The engine rumbled as he turned on the ignition, and then for a moment he sat behind the wheel, seemingly indecisive about what to do next. I wanted to be beside him on that seat. I wanted to rewind the night to when he and I were happy and in the drive-thru, worried only about ice cream and fries. But life doesn't have a rewind button, so I was stuck watching it play out in real time.

Finally, the headlights turned on and he pulled away from the curb. I wondered if he'd decided where he was going, or if the urge to get away just got the best of him.

****Everyone is so quiet. I'm not sure if you aren't commenting or if my comments aren't working.  Hope you're enjoying the story. Let me know what you think in the comment section below.