Jonah tried to gather himself.
"Do you need a ride home or something?" Mary said.
"I'm on my bike," he said. He was embarrassed. He pushed himself up against the wall. "I got to get to class," he said. She followed him in and he sat far over in the corner so he couldn't see her with her boyfriend. He didn't even hear the lecturer; he didn't know what to think about, Mary, or Mom, or going home, or how to make her think he wasn't a lunatic, or red on white. His brain churned and he tried to just wait between the ticks of the clock behind him and not think.
~
She was dead. And she was gone. Lucy had her taken away while he was at
school. He understood why Lucy sent him away, but he didn't want to understand. Maybe if he could have just gotten past her. She was his mother; he had a right to see her.
At the funeral it didn't look like her though.
She bled out while she was asleep, Lucy said. She didn't feel a thing. Not a thing. Of course not, Jonah thought, dead people don't feel things.
Not a thing. Was that supposed to make him feel better? He didn't know what he felt. What was he supposed to feel like? Was this what it was supposed to feel like when somebody died? Was it just one of those things you had to feel to understand? Why couldn't she have just faded out of his life like she did hers? Why was there this abrupt gap, this termination? Why was the bridge still standing when there was this huge hole? What good was it anymore? He didn't know how to rebuild it.
How was he supposed to remember her? He couldn't remember what she said the night before. Was he always just going to have that blur of red on white?