Take My Heart, Not My Son

Chapter 3: The Funeral

Violet's P.O.V.

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"Oh, my, this is awful."

"The poor girl, losing her mother so young."

"Mr. Bennett really has a hard time ahead of him."

"I don't know how they're holding it together."

I stared down at my mother's dead body in the casket as I listened to the whispers around me. I don't even know half of these people. Which means that my mom didn't either.

I wonder how she would feel if she knew that Dad had invited all of these strangers. None of Mom's family is even here. Not even Grandma or Uncle Julio. The only friend of Mom's that's here is Mrs. McCarthy.

I wish Dad wouldn't have had the funeral in our home. How does he expect me to look at this house the same? How can he look at things the same?

I felt my father's large and heavy hand rest on my shoulder. I looked up at him. He smiled down at me.

Dad hasn't shed one tear all day. It's been four days since Mom died. I spent that whole time at the McCarthy house. Dad didn't even call me. When I saw him today, he gave me a brief hello before rushing off. I didn't even get a hug.

They say that everyone handles death differently. I wonder if this is Dad's way of handling things. Dad has never been an affectionate person, but he's never brushed me off like this before either. Especially in a time when I need him most.

"She looks beautiful, doesn't she? They did a good job." Dad said.

I furrowed my brows as I looked back at Mom. I don't know what he means. Mom doesn't look like herself at all. She looks like a plastic doll made to look like her.

"She's cold," I stated.

"Of course she is, Violet," Dad replied, sounding annoyed.

I blinked back tears as I stared at my mom.

"Dad, why isn't Grandma here?" I asked.

"Your grandma is here darling. She's in the kitchen preparing the caterer's for the meal." He told me.

I rolled my eyes.

"Not that, Grandma." I said. "Abuela."

I only call my Abuela Grandma because Dad doesn't like the name abuela. As silly as that is, considering I can speak Spanish, French, and German just as fluently as English. Which were all languages Dad wanted me to take.

I do not like my father's mother. She's always been rude. She would make comments about my mother's hispanic ethnicity every chance she got. Mom always took it with a grain of salt. She never let it sho that it bothered her, but I knew it did. Grandma didn't have to be so rude.

Greg always said that Grandma was that way because she came from money. He said that his mom's parents were the same way. Even though Mr. McCarthy came from money, his family was very nice. Greg's grandpa is one of my favorite people.

I wish he were here instead of Grandma.

My mom's family does have money though. Maybe not as much as my dad, but a lot still. They owned a pharmaceutical company that had quickly risen into something amazing.

My abuela and I were close when I was little. After I got my IQ scores, I rarely ever saw her though. I wanted Mom to take me with her to visit, but Mom said that they needed to talk about something important. She did promise that I would get to see Abuela more though.

"That grandma isn't coming." Dad stated.

The angry note in his tone threw me off.

"Why?" I asked him.

"Because she doesn't like me," he answered.

"But... this is her daughter," I said.

Dad leaned down to my ear.

"She isn't coming, Violet. Don't make a scene at your mother's funeral. You need to be more respectful," he whispered angrily.

I jumped slightly at the amount of anger in my dad's voice. He never talks to me that way. Was I that out of line?

But...

"Edward, the caterers need to speak with you." Grandma said as she walked up to us.

Dad stood up straight. He thanked his mother, and walked off. I was about to walk off too, feeling extremely overwhelmed. Before I could, though, Grandma wrapped her arm around my shoulders, and spun me back around to face my dead mother.

"As cold as this is going so sound Violet, you should be happy. Your mother wasn't doing you any favors. She babied you way too much." She said happily.

I turned my head to give her an incredulous look. I pushed her arms off of me as I fully turned to face her. Grandma gave me a confused look.

"Are you trying to tell me that I should be happy that my mother is dead?" I asked.

My voice came out a bit louder than I intended. I just couldn't help myself. I know that I'm just a kid, but... My IQ is higher than most of the people in this room! How dare anyone tell me that I should be happy about my mother's death.

Grandma looked around, giving some people an awkward smile. She grabbed my arm, and pulled me into another room. Grandma shut the door and locked it. This room is completely empty. Which meant that I was able to raise my voice a little.

"Grandma, how could you say that to-"

Slap!

I was cut off by Grandma slapping me across the face. My head turned to the side. I was too shocked to move for a moment. My hand came up to cup my throbbing cheek. I finally turned my head to look at my grandmother.

"You ungrateful little brat," she spat.

Grandma bent down, and grabbed my hands harshly.

"Now listen here Violet," she said. "You are going to behave. It's about time you understood that children should be seen and not heard. Keep your mouth shut, and your head down."

Then Grandma squeezed my arms tighter as her eyes grew harder. I winced at how rough she was squeezing me, but it didn't seem like she cared. I don't understand what's going on.

"And never raise your voice to me again." Grandma ordered. "Do you understand?"

My bottom lip trembled.

"Do you understand me?" Grandma repeated, enunciating every syllable.

"Y-yes Grandma," I replied instantly.

"Good," Grandma said as she finally let me go. "Now, go clean yourself up before anyone sees how much of a wreck you are."

With that, grandma left the room.

It took me a moment to process what just happened. I thought about telling Dad, but... I'm not sure if it would help. I'd heard Mom and Dad have several fights about Grandma's disrespect. I somehow feel like this will end the same way all of those fights did. With Mom crying, and Dad sticking his ground.

Slowly, I pulled myself together enough to walk to my bedroom. Thankfully, no one saw me. I shut my bedroom door behind me. Then I sat on my bed.

This is all so weird. I feel like I'm the only one who's sad. No one is letting me cry or even process anything. Everyone expects me to walk around with a smile on my face, like nothing is wrong. No one's even asked if I'm okay.

Tears filled my eyes. I tried to blink them away. I tried to act how Grandma and Dad wanted me. I tried to put on a brave face, but...

My mother just died, and my face hurts.

I don't want to be strong. I don't want to act okay. I want to cry and scream. I want someone to hug me and tell me everything is going to be okay. I need comfort...

Suddenly, I felt my bed dip right beside me. I looked up to see Setson sitting on my bed. I didn't even hear him come in.

"What a-are you doing?" I asked.

"I saw you come up here after talking with-"

Setson stopped abruptly, and grabbed my chin. I hissed out as he pulled my face closer to his. Setson's eyes went hard as he looked at my cheek. The cheek that just got slapped.

"Did your grandma do this to you?" He asked.

I pushed Setson away, and pulled my chin out of his grasp.

"Violet, she can't just hit you," Setson said.

"She can, and she did." I replied.

"Violet-"

"What do you want, Setson? What are you doing here?" I asked, interrupting him.

Setson blew out a breath.

"I... wanted to come see if you were okay. I see that you're not." He said. "Your family fu.cking sucks Vi. Your dad is acting like this is some grand party, and his mother isn't any better. It's disgusting."

I looked away from him.

"Violet, it's okay to cry in front of people." Setson told me. "Your mother just died."

"According to everyone else, I should be happy," I said.

"What?" Setson asked. "Who would fu.cking say something like that to you? Your dad? Grandma? Who in their right mind would ever say that-"

A small sob escaped my lips, making Setson stop. I tried to hide my face behind my hair, but Setson tucked it behind my ear. I put my face in my hands as I finally let go.

I cried so hard that I started to hiccup. I could feel my hands and legs start to shake. This was all too overwhelming for me.

"I-I-I-I'm s-s-s-supposed t-t-to b-be c-cleaning m-m-myself -u-up... H-h-how c-can I-I-I g-g-go b-back d-d-down n-now?" I blubbered.

I wasn't expecting Setson to actually answer me. Honestly, I thought he'd bolt from me sobbing like a baby, and go get his mom or brother. That seemed more like something Setson would do.

So, imagine my surprise when Setson turned his body to me, and wrapped his arms around me. Setson pulled me to his chest, and rubbed my back while I cried. He held my head to his chest as he comforted me. I clung to him like a damn life raft.

I never thought that it would be Setson McCarthy to comfort me that day.