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A Strange Encounter
It’s strange really. I mean, what am I supposed to do? Do I just sit here and watch strangers pass by towards a stranger’s coffin? Do I comfort my little sister, who seems to be more confused than I am? Do I comfort mom, even though I’ll probably end up crying ‘cause she’s crying and then we end up being the center of attention, oh God, please don’t let that happen.
I know I’m supposed to be sad for his death but I just feel so out of place. I can barely recognize any of the people here. I mean, I feel like the stranger walking on someone’s grief, instead of them walking in on mine. I mean, he was my grandfather first than their whatever he was to them. Still, it feels li-
She’s staring at me.
What do I do? Should I nod in acknowledgement? She looks younger than me; she’s probably his daughter. She probably rode around in his truck just like I did when I was a kid. That’s probably the only thing I remember about him. Well, that and his ranchero outfit. He never missed the opportunity to wear a sombrero, a big belt and cowboy boots. She probably dresses like that too.
Why is she still staring?
Do I have something in my face? Do I smell? Ugh, I’m starting to sweat. What is the socially appropriate way to interact with this person you’ve never met before but somehow are suddenly connected by blood? God, I’m rambling. Is she still staring? Crap, she is. I need an escape route; maybe Miranda will lend me her game boy. No, that would be inappropriate for someone older than 8. Damn it. What if she walks up to me and asks me stuff. Like what’s my favorite memory of him or did he do that thing she loved so much with me too? I stare at her and wonder how am I supposed to tell this girl who just lost her father that I barely know the guy.
She’s looking away. This is my chance to escape. The refreshment bar looks good and I didn’t have anything for breakfast today. They woke me with the news and before I could even blink, we were driving to my parents’ hometown. As I walk, I notice that there seems to be a clear division in people’s reaction to his death. Half of the room seems to be bawling their eyes out and the other part seems to be just quiet. Where’s dad? He’s probably outside. Smart man. The refreshment table looks like it’s hosting a funeral itself. There’s practically nothing that looks as appetizing as the chilaquiles I was planning to have for breakfast. Maybe I should jus-
You’ve got be kidding me.
Why is she standing next to me? Did she follow me? Did I make some kind of signal that I wanted to talk to her? Am I supposed to make small talk? God, I hate small talk. Ugh, now we’re just standing in silence. Just get the cookie and get the hell out. Is it getting hot in here? I feel like I’m in a furnace. Yes, that’s it, lift your hand, grab the cookie an-
“Hello”.
Crap, crap, crap.
“….”
“They told me you were part of his other family.”
Why is my mouth not working? Come one, speak.
“I’ve never seen you guys before but I do remember he had some pictures of little kids in his bedroom. I always asked who they were but he was always silent and distracted me with something else.”
Use your words damn it. Half of the time you can never shut up and now you decide to be quiet.
“He never talked about life before mom but we all knew he had been married before. Some family reunion, heh.”
Is she trying to make jokes? Do I laugh? Maybe I should smile? She looks uncomfortable. Stop smiling; it’s freaking her out.
“Look, I know this is weird and uncomfortable and awkward, not that you’re awkward or anything! I mean, well, the situation is odd, I mean well...”
Is this what it feels like to talk to me? This is so weird.
“Look I just wanted to say thank you for coming. I know he would have been happy that all of his family was finally reunited.”
She nods and walks away.
Well, that wasn’t so bad.
