“Of course, we will Sheryl.” My mom says and I nod my head with a tight-lipped smile.

I didn’t want to go. I wasn’t willing. I didn’t want to go to Tasha’s house when she wouldn’t be there. It felt wrong to even think about it. I wanted to go home and crawl under the covers. My shoulders and arms feel heavy, and everything hurts. My legs feel stiff as I shuffle forward. I can hear Mrs. Sheryl say something again before we’re moving forward again.

The car ride home is quiet. The cool glass of the window soothes my headache, but the seatbelt digs into my shoulder. My parents chat quietly in the front seats.

“They said that we can come to the repass.”

“What time?”

“Five.”

“That’s a bit late.”

“Well, Sheryl’s mom and brother have to go back to Louisville tomorrow. They probably wanted to get everything done while their family is still here.”

“Where are they going to bury her?”

I tune out the conversation at that. A metallic tang hits my tongue and I realize that I had been biting my lip. I let the, now, puffy skin fall from between my teeth and close my eyes. I rest for a minute, letting myself relax a bit. Something grabs my arm, gripping tightly. I feel hot breath in my ear, as a hand caresses my head.

“Shshsh, it’s okay.”

My eyes shoot open and I look around. I shuffle away from where I felt the hands, but there was no one there. I was still in the backseat of my father’s old sedan that I didn’t know the name of, but no one was beside me. As I try to calm my breathing, I can feel that the car has stopped moving. I look up and see my mom and dad turned in their seats, watching me. I lick my lips and sit up, adjusting the seatbelt, then taking it off completely.

“I’m fine.”

“Mason-“ Mom starts but I shake my head.

“Jus-Just a bad dream.”

I look out of the window, seeing that we were sitting in the driveway. I open the door and get out of the car. The cool wind hits me in the face and I tug on the sleeves of my long-sleeved shirt. Dad and mom soon follow, unlocking the door so we could go in. I make my way towards the stairs, but mom stops me. Dad keeps on walking past, to his study.

“Mason! I was thinking about making a dish for the repass, wouldn’t you like to help?”

“I wanted to nap-“

“I could really use the company.” She gives me a small smile.

Giving a short sigh, and nodding my head, I follow her to the kitchen. I sit at the small island, tapping my fingers on the cool faux granite countertop. She hums a short song while gathering pots and utensils. She pins back her short brown hair with a black headband she keeps in the junk drawer.

“What’re you going to make?”

“Macaroni salad! You guys actually liked that.”

“Yeah,” I say it comes out quieter than I planned, “No onions.”

“I remember.” She smiles before turning back to walk to the pantry.

I watch her for a while, pulling out ingredients and getting her measurements ready. When she has the macaroni boiling, she leans against the counter and glances at me, giving me another small smile. I had been staring at her the whole time, watching her back as she moved. I hadn’t realized. I quickly blink and look away. My eyes felt dry, and I rub them. She stops humming as she starts dicing stocks of celery.

“Mason.”

I hum in answer, but she doesn’t turn to look at me. I rest my elbow on the countertop, leaning my cheek on my open palm.

“So, we’ve been thinking,” She pauses, “How would you feel about going back to seeing Ms. Burton.”