It was raining at the funeral, heavy gray sky-drops moisturizing our farm-bred skin and hair. The caskets were like up-side-down umbrellas the way they were catching the water on top, shiny and transparent like a mirror.

I walked up to my father’s and saw my reflection on the top of the wooden surface before looking away in fear. It was a grim thing to see yourself reflected off a casket. An omen from death itself, telling you that it’s in your soul, ready to attack.

Bring on death. Bring on fear.

I looked up, the tears and rain blending on my face like one mass waterfall coming from my cocoa eyes. A dark figure was standing on the opposite side of his casket, looking down at it solemnly.

I looked closer, seeing it was a young man I didn’t recognize. He saw me and nodded respect before strolling around the hole that would soon be my father’s home, meeting me under my umbrella. His black jacket and slacks were slick with the rainfall and his eyes were red from salty tears. Perhaps he was a relative of the other family.

Bring on change. Bring on uniting.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said from soft, even lips. His voice was deep, solemn, sincere. That was just what I needed in this insecure moment: sincerity. His hair was dark and shaggy, modeling his farm-boy background of few haircuts and lack of a hairbrush.

Bring on familiarity. Bring on beauty.

“Thank you,” I muttered, just loud enough to be audible over the rain. “Yours too,” I said, nodding to the other casket next to my father’s.

He nodded and looked down at his black leather shoes, bubbling from the saturation. Then I did the most unexpected thing. I wrapped my arms around to his back and hugged him warmly, letting out more tears and a soft sob. He acted in turn, obviously needing a hug.

Bring on comfort.

When we parted after a tearful, comforting embrace, he said, “I’m Rodney.”

“Char,” I replied softly.

“Nice to meet you,” Rodney said and then asked, “You’re his daughter, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “How was he related to you?” I asked, looking at the other casket.

“I’m his son,” he replied. “Was his son.”

“You still are,” I whispered. “Just as much as I’m still my father’s daughter.”

Bring on sadness. Bring on realization. Bring on depression. Bring on something peaceful.

He nodded and smiled slightly. The priest muffled something into the microphone under a covered tent before both caskets and holes. He looked ready to begin.

Rodney and I stepped to the side, falling into line with the other guests, completing the black cloud that was resting beside the holes, all eyes looking at the two mirror-topped caskets.

I let Rodney stay under my umbrella, our tears visible with no rain falling on our faces. Halfway through the ceremony, I felt his hand slip beneath mine, collecting my fingers between his. I clutched onto him and wiped away some tears with my other hand.

Ravvy, my brother went up to the podium when the priest summoned him, his tear trails lined in black and gray from dust.

“My father, Char’s father, only wanted to raise us right. And he did,” Ravvy began, his deep voice ringing through the rain. “He doesn’t have to worry about us because I have a feeling we’ll be okay. He loved his family above all. All family members present had a place in his heart and even those who never really cared for him much were loved by him.”

Bring on truth. Bring on guenuine hardcore truth.

I sobbed harder, knowing this was true. My father was the most forgiving person I knew.

When my brother was done with his speech, the preist looked at me like he wanted me to sy something but I shook my head. It wouldn't be right. I would end up critizing the drunk draver of the other car and their whole family was there, mourning for their lost one.

Bring on guilt. Bring on my pathetic soul. Bring on revenge. Bring on evil, hardcore revenge.

---

It was dark by the time I received the call and I was already in my pajamas, eaching ice cream on the couch. There was a fire in the stone fireplace and a black and white movie was on USA, blarring on the small TV screen. All the lights were out and the phone rung, startling me. My brother shouted at me to get it from his room.

"Hello?" I answered, picking the phone up off the reciever.

"Miss Truman?" a lady said.

"Yes'm?" I responded, wondering what was going on.

Bring on confusion. Bring on madness

Your father has been in an accident," she said. "The car in front of him stopped and he ran into them."

Bring on shock. Bring on faithlessness.

Fear filled me. "Is he okay?"

"He's in the hospital in critical condition," she answered grimly."

My brother started crying when I told him even though he's older. The reality hadn't hit me yet. By the time we got down to the hospital, our father was dead.

Bring on loss.

We found out the next day that the driver of the other car had been drunk. When we asked if he had been arrested, the police's short answer was, 'no'.

"Well why the hell not?" I screamed at the officer. "He killed a man!"

The officer told me the passenger of the other car had died too, I decided to contact the family and see if they wanted to arrange a double funeral, partly because neither of our families could afford seperate ones.

Bring on guilt. Bring on despair.

I had talked to the wife of the man who died but she would never tell me who was driving the car, as much as I wanted to know. Maybe it was better this way. I wouldn't have to face them. I wouldn't have to face the bastard that killed my father.

---

After the funeral, I found Ravvy and introduced him to Rodney. They seemed to click right away so I decided to keep in contact with Rodney. I had his number already after talking to him mother about the funeral arrangements.

"Hey Char, can you walk home? I want to go to my school and meet up with some friends," Ravvy said.

Ravvy went to the community college and hung out with his friends whenever possible. I had a feeling now that dad had passed away, he would be there more often and my days would be empty alone on the farm.

"Sure," I replied. "I'll see you at home."

Bring on sadness. Bring on laziness. Bring on lonely days.

With that, Ravvy left me standing in the wet cemetary with Rodney clutching to my embrella stem as the rain grew harder.

"How far away do you live?" he asked.

"About 10 miles," I said softly.

"I'll drive you home," he offered.

"Your drive?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm 19," he replied. "Actually, maybe it's better if I don't drive you."

"Why not? What's wrong?" I pressed.

"Nothing... just... how about we go to my house? It's right down the road and we don't have to drive anywhere. My mother can make us coffee or something to warm up," he said.

Bring on suspition. Bring on distraction. Bring on possible love.

At his house, his mother did exactly what he said, whipping up a steaming pot of fresh coffee. It smelled so good and warm, I couldn't turn it down.

They lived on a farm too, heavily weed-infested like our own in the midst of winter. Almost instantly, we dove into farm talk.

"All these rains are bringing on a lot of weeds. Come spring, we're all going to be busy clearing up the feilds," Rodney said, sipping his coffee.

"I'm so looking forward to that. I think Ravvy and I are going to sell the farm since my father isn't around. We can't maintain all that land by ourselves," I explained sadly.

Bring on realization.

"Burn day is in a week," Rodney's mother said.

Burn day came once every two months. It was the day where farms across the country were allowed to burn anything they wanted outdoors in a bonfire. It was like a mini holiday for us farm-dwellers.

"If the rain stops, that is," Rodney added.

"Maybe we'll burn the feilds," I whispered.

"Why?" Rodney asked.

"It'll get rid of all the weeds," I said.

Bring on lying. Bring on dishonesty. Bring on...

---

Rodney and I became good friends in the week following the funeral. I was over at his house every day, playing video games or baking with his mother. He had no siblings so we had the entire house to ourselves. Meanwhile, Ravvy was at his school every day until nightfall.

Burn day came and I prepared the feilds by pouring gasoline over the weeds. It was cloudy today but not raining so the gas didn't soak into the ground immediately.

I heard Rodney's voice and turned around. He was running towards me, tears streaming down his face.

Bring on the truth. Bring on more sadness. Bring on Rodney.

He reached me and doubled over, panting like he had run here all the way from his house. His eyes were red and his hair was blown back from sprinting.

"It was me," he gasped. "I was the driver."

"What?" I said, dropping the gasoline container. The liquid spilled onto my boots.

"I killed your father," he said, looking at me with sad eyes.

Bring on hate. Bring on sadness. Bring on rage.

I dropped the match, not caring about me, not caring about Rodney. Flames engulfed us and I felt the hot burning on my skin. I smiled at Rodney when I saw the flames licking at his face. His eyes were panicked and I felt his fingers wrap around my wrist before the heat made me pass out.

---

Bring on pain. Bring on awakening. Bring on light.

I opened my eyes, my skin burning still. It was raining and the raindrops were falling on my hot skin, cooling my body down. Rodney was kneeled beside me, letting his smoldering clothes soak up the rain. His shirt and pants were ragged from the flames and patches of his skin were black from the heat.

He looked down at me, realizing I was awake and shook his head. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I was drunk, ruthless."

I started crying, half in pain, half in sorrow that I tried to kill us both. I loved Rodney more than I could explain and I guess I knew it was him all along. My love just made me not care. His sudden race to tell me was confusing but I guess he had his reasons. There is a certain point where guilt sets in.

I look up at him and touch his cheek and he leans down and kisses my forhead.

Bring on forgiveness.

THE END