An Excerpt

by Qua-niesha

It’s days like this that has me in my thoughts. To be honest, that’s every other day, but this day? It was different. It all started with a dream, but that dream felt so lifelike, so real, and it also felt like a premonition. Allow me to explain:

Cousin Estelle talked an awful lot during her eulogy standing in front of that casket, all tall and all. That cheesy ass grin making room for her high cheek bones on her richly, deep brown and bony face. All she did was reminisce past memories of her, Darrell, and them from when they were kids.

Darrell. He was somebody I grew up with too. Used to swing together on the monkey bars in second grade all the time until he kicked me hard in the mouth cause I was too impatient to wait my turn. Didn’t meant to but got him in trouble. They said he can’t rough house with girls; he has to be gentle with us. And then they grounded him. Got the worse ass beating I’ve ever heard. Heard, not seen. He’s been holding on to that for a while. Got me back in eighth grade on the second to last week of school. One of the most horrifying experiences of my life. Something I’ll never forget.

And now he’s dead.

Excuse me if I don’t tip my hat, or even hold on to a more beloved memory in my childhood that most would’ve already forgotten about. I don’t take too kindly to my pain.

But the blue and white roses that adorned over the closed part of the casket matched well with his navy blue, Italian wool suit, all tailored and ironed out. And yet the indigo blue hankie tucked in his pocket square on the left pissed me off. He lucky the embalming made him look good for once. It was the first time in a while I felt he was peaceful looking.

It’s sad cause the last thing I wanted to see was another brown person lying in one of those things, but for some reason, this… This brought me peace.

I did say my peace to him. It was short. I did it then found my seat down beside my friend June. She and my other cousins had been crying endlessly over Darrell, talking about how he was their precious friend, how beloved he was, how sweet and genuine he was. If they only knew.

I wiped my clammy hands onto my slacks and tucked them between my thighs. The day was blistering hot, reaching up to the late 90s, and the humidity would’ve had my coils shrunken and limp had I not wrapped it with my head scoft.

The cicadas and the birds were so loud that day. We were under the white canopy. Honestly, it was hard to not feel restless every few seconds with how uncomfortable the foldable metal chairs were, but this was all his family could afford. Nobody was expecting this. Nobody could expect this.

Cousin Estelle continued her eulogy, trying to lift our spirits, and eventually asked us to stand up for a small hymn to sing. I took in a deep breath.

June reached a hand over to my knee and flipped her palms up. I exhaled deeply and debated if I wanted to hold her hand. She gently bounced her hand and turned her head my way. Our eyes locked, and my heart sank into my stomach. She didn’t have to say anything. My fingers interlocked with hers slowly.

And we roseーour grip onto each other was tight.

My palms sweated again with my heart thumping wildly in my chest and my stomach in knots. I forgot where I was in that moment. One second, it was about Darrell. The next, June. I heard only her voice. It was so alluring. We sang:

🎵Soon it will be done

Trouble of the world

Going home to live with God

No more weeping and wailing

No more weeping and wailing

No more weeping and wailing

Going home to live with my Lord 🎵

And just like that, I broke from the dream. I don’t know what the purpose of it was or why I dreamt that, but it was there. So vivid. So lifelike. 

The reason I felt this was a warning was what came next.

I sat in one of those cushion chairs with wooden framing running complementary to the squeaky, laminated top and metal framing tables. They were positioned in two columns next to the window, overlooking the student parking lot. Everything was old and smelly. My laptop, notes, and folders were scattered about the rectangular table. I checked the time; it was only midday. I had another hour before class.

I packed my stuff up instead of studying more. I planned on going to the campus store for something to eat and do some nature walks for the next hour before class. Emphasis on planned.

My heart started racing. I would’ve ignored it–believing it to be no different from the anxiety attacks I usually get–until my head grew light and I nearly lost my balance. I gripped the wall, plopping flat on the floor. I tried reaching for my belongings and racing to the bathroom.

I took deep breaths and looked intently into the mirror. The bag I carry isn’t usually heavy, but, for some reason, I didn’t have the strength to continue carrying it so I placed it on the dirty, tile floor underneath the sink. I dug through it for a water bottle to calm myself down, but the more I moved, the less energy I had.  

A woman asked me if I was alright. I didn’t know if I answered her or not, but she alerted me that blood dripped down my nose. I checked in the mirror and no sooner did I drop to the ground.