Ida

I have never been to a funeral before. The church was packed full of people, each fanning away the heat with a large fan, their faces glistening with sweat and tears. My heart shattered again each time I heard the cries of anguish coming from Mattie in the front pew, her body wracked with sobs over and over until I am not sure I can take it anymore. Finally, it is over, and they try and take the casket out. I try to look away as Mattie throws herself toward the coffin of her baby and her friends gather around to bring her comfort. There is no comfort and we all know it, we just cannot mentally handle the sounds of her heartbreak any longer or our hearts will break too.

My mother says we are not here to mourn, but to witness. We would not forget what happened to Mattie’s boy, and we would not forgive. There were two types of evil, she told us. Those who commit evil acts, and those who see them done and do nothing to stop them. We would not allow this to go unwitnessed.

I close my eyes once more as she screams ‘Samuel,’ and the last bit of the coffin escapes the church and I finally allow myself to cry.

I walk to my house alone, hands lazily hanging by my sides and my thoughts wandering. So many times my mind drifted to the hill, and part of me thinks of her alabaster skin and I want to throw up. Rosalie would never be so cruel, this is something I knew undeniably. But I knew the last colors Samuel ever saw was the pale colorings of his captors, unable to get away. I have to stop on the way and throw up in some bushes so hard that my ribs hurt and I begin to cry. The cruelty of people astounded me. Sickened me. Killed me. I want to scream. I want to scream so loudly that my ancestors hear me. My pain is their pain. And I carry theirs.

It takes a while before I am able to carry myself home, and when I do I drop on my bed, my eyes swollen and painful. My limbs feel as though they are crafted from lead and I feel myself sinking down into the mattress. So far down I pray it swallows me whole. The ache in my chest is too much to bear.

Two days of silence pass and I try to bring as little attention to myself as possible. We are all licking the wounds that the sounds and sights left on us. I never understood the mark that could be left on a soul, but now I did. I had witnessed it first hand.

It is my sister who opens up first, making small talk about something she had seen at school, and soon we are laughing as though we had not seen tragedy. But it feels wrong. Like we are all playing a part, just trying out best to seem normal. If we pretend enough maybe it will be the truth.

I barely think of Rosalie right now, it seems wrong to think of something so pure in a time so horrible. Truthfully, I am a little afraid to. I worry the people who took Samuel will find out somehow, as though they will reach into my mind and see my lover. My thoughts of her are like lace, beautiful and soft. I am afraid to drop the blood of my thoughts into them.

“Can I speak with you a minute,” Carter says to me under his breath. He says it in the way only a sibling knows. He has a secret and he needs to let me know. I follow him silently to his room and wait patiently as he shuts the door, making sure first that nobody will listen. His paranoia leads him across the room and he pulls the curtains shut and pulls me by my arm onto the wooden floor. My knees hit with a dull thump and begin to throb. I ignore it when I see my brothers eyes. They are filled with fear.

“There is going to be protests,” He whispers and I bend my neck to be able to hear him. When the words finally sink in my stomach drops and the familiar feeling of vomit rises in my throat again. “Some people decided to march, take the fight to the streets. They want to change things, Ida. And I want to join them.”

My mother would slap him for even thinking of it. But I am not my mother, and I can hear the quiver in his voice. He is not blind to the danger. I cannot change his mind, I see that.

“Who?” Is what I manage and I watch as his shoulders rise and fall.

“I don’t know yet. I heard about it from Raymond. He is real close to a lot of people. He told me three days. Will you keep my secret?” I nod. Of course I will keep his secret.

“I am proud of you,” I whisper and I hear as he begins to breathe slower, his body relaxing.

“This can’t keep happening. People cannot just spill innocent blood into dirt roads because of the color of their skin. You heard Mattie,” His voice chokes as he pulls on the memory within him. “I can’t hear that again, Ida. I just can’t.” I agree with him. He is not muted in this passion, he is vibrant and radiant. I see the fire within him for justice.

“We cannot let mom know.” I tell him and he agrees. Our mother would tear us from this world before any other person could have the chance.

We sit there a while, his head dropped onto my shoulder as though he is the younger of us. I occasionally hear him cry, his salty tears dropping down onto our skin. I know he is not just thinking of Samuel, but of all the hardness he has seen in this world. I do not remember my father, but he does, and I pray that the world lets him know that he would be proud of the man Carter was becoming.

“I am scared,” He snivels eventually and I rest my weight against him.

“I do not think a coward ever changed the world.” I tell him and he smiles, his eyes slowly drifting into what I hope is a peaceful sleep. I close my eyes and ignore the afternoon sun and try to gether my wits.

Three days was not a lot of time to prepare myself. It was not a lot of time to understand what the magnitude could be to my family. I could only hope in four days it would not be my family weeping on the streets as people whipped up pity cassoroles.