“Well, I’ve been on the phone with your hysterical mother for a few hours, trying to drum up some sympathy, so I’m a little wound up.” She paused. “So, I’ll see you next week?”
“See you next week.”
“Oh, Dakota?”
“I hate that name. You know this.”
I could almost hear that woman smile over the phone.
“Happy twentieth birthday. I’d have sent you something, but you never gave me your address.”
His studio faded until the ceiling turned to blue sky as far as the eye could see. The sun was brutal, and I watched the scene unfold, the funeral playing out the way funerals oftendid with one exception—Cody’s resentful face. He stood in the back wearin’ a baseball cap and sunglasses, dressed in a bright salmon shirt and white basketball shorts.
A preacher led everyone in prayer as the casket was lowered, and Cody took that moment to slink away toward the line of cars parked along the winding cemetery road. He opened the door of a small red sedan and slid into the passenger seat while scrollin’ through his phone.
The car felt hot to the touch, and I realized I could interact with it, so I opened the door and crammed myself into the small back seat. I had to leave the door open since half my body wouldn’t fit.
A blond woman in her early forties climbed into the driver’s seat. She was heavy-set, wearin’ a plain black dress and a little bit of makeup.
“Well, you made your statement loud and clear, and you didn’t even say a word.”
Cody set his phone in his lap. “This place is just as depressing as I remember.”
“Have you said anything to your mom?”
“Nope, and I don’t plan to. If she wants to talk, she can start with an apology and work from there.” He turned to his aunt. “Just being in this town brings back shitty memories. Whenever I’m alone, I’m depressed. Whenever I’m around people, I panic. Whenever I even think of dating a man, I can’t shake away years of abuse.”
“Have you considered therapy?”
“Therapy takes years, and I can’t afford it.” Cody let out an angry groan. “It seems you can move all the way across the country, but your problems follow like a shadow.”
Another woman made her way to the car, also wearing black. I knew right away she was Cody’s mom, thinner with darker blonde hair pulled back into a straight ponytail. She looked sodifferent and much older compared to the first vision of her. She wasn’t wearing makeup or jewelry, and her eyes were bloodshot from crying.
“Great,” Cody muttered as she approached the open door.
“You could have worn something a little more respectful.”
“That would have required some sort of respect. What the hell do you want?”
“You haven’t spoken to me in years, and your father—”
“Was a piece of shit junky and so are you.” Cody cleared his throat, shaking out words that seemed to stick them both like knives. “If they were burying your remains as well, I’d be just as indifferent.”
“Cody,” his aunt cut in. “That’s crossing a line.”
“Let me tell you about lines that run deeper than the meth marks on her face. The line was crossed when they almost let me die of pneumonia, or when they constantly beat the shit out of me, or when we lived in filth and garbage, or when I couldn’t even have a birthday without them breaking into a fight.” He turned back to his mom. “You never should have been a mother. I should have never been born, because you fucked me up more than anyone.”
The woman broke as tears filled her eyes, but Cody was like ice.
“‘The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.’ If I ever have any real power one day, I’ll burn this whole place to the ground.” He slammed the door and fastened his seatbelt. “I’ll get my stuff ready to go back home.”
His mother slowly walked away, back toward the gravesite, and Cody started to cry for the first time. The car disappeared leaving him sitting on the floor of a black room, holding his head in his hands.
“I’m a terrible person,” he whispered. “I’m a hateful, judgmental piece of shit. I still hate them. I still hate you, Jim. I keep letting you hurt me, and you’re not even here.”
I sat next to him, pulling him into my lap, my arms wrapped around his chest.
“Listen to me babe. We can’t change what happened to us. Good or bad, it becomes a part of who we are.”
