3 3 Strange Strangers

Mass of fluffy clouds rolling by slowly on the clear sky creating different shapes and shades of white. I watch as a small portion moves lazily, detaching itself from the giant one. Until it forms into a small cloud, isolated from the rest.

It has been days. Three to be exact since I refused to leave my room and preferred to sulk on the floor beside my bed staring at the sky. Guilt and remorse gradually poison my mind. I haven't had a decent sleep either, not at all. For my fear to wake up again in the middle of the forest, strengthens my resolve.

Broken pieces of a lampshade on the floor glisten as a ray of mid-noon sun peaks through the window, shattered pieces of porcelain litters on the corner where I threw the vase, pillow feathers add on a pile of the mess of other things I destroyed the first day I came back from the hospital.

I got scratches on my arms, legs, and face but nothing too serious. For the wound in my heart could not compare.

Not with mom gone.

There is a knock at the door before the knob clicks open.

"Amber, it's almost time. You don't have to if you can't." Dad says, tired-looking.

Dark circles are under his eyes. His usual sleek grey hair now shoots in every direction. He is wearing a plain white shirt tucked in slacks, and black leather shoes. But his blue-grey eyes are ghostly. I'm guessing from lack of sleep.

"I want to," I whisper.

"You - sure honey?"

"Yes...I want to see mom for the last time." I calmly say, like the type of stillness before the storm.

He presses his lips together and lets out a sigh, then nods his head lightly. "Very well...Be down in ten."

Dad closes the door and I force myself to get a shower. Once done, I wear a sleeveless black dress and in my head is a pillbox hat with a veil. I put on my sunglasses and silk hand gloves.

THE BURIAL TRADITION is quite spectacular in Wales. Dad chose the old ways of burying the dead and I could not argue with that knowing mom was traditional. She used to be fascinated with old and antique things, 'things' dad calls trash.

Praying silently, I kiss the white rose murmuring words I know mom would never hear anymore. "Forgive me...mom."

The heartache I feel is enough to break into my built-up wall and a lone tear moistens my face. I close my eyes as I let my mind relive the memories we shared back when we were so close to each other. All those days, baking cookies on Friday nights, shopping and pampering ourselves during the weekends, going to the local restaurant every Tuesday because Dad insists, we eat outside once a week, up to the moment she whispers those words I never imagine would be her last. If only I knew.

Regrets do come last. "I'm sorry...I am so sorry mom."

I throw the rose on the grave just as dad and the others did. Dad hugs me and I gladly bury my face on his shoulder.

"You are strong honey, and I've never been prouder." He says and kisses my forehead. A bittersweet smile paints on my lips.

Someone coughs behind us and I turn around to see a plump middle-aged woman dressed in a crisp black dress with large buttons adorning the front. She is wearing big round eyeglasses and her hair atop in a bun, which reminds me of Mrs. Powell, my Historian teacher in sophomore.

"Mr. Taylor. I am sorry for your loss." She pats dad's shoulder and her focus shifts to me. "Oh, could you be Amber darling? You've grown a lot."

"P-pardon Madame, but you seem to know us well." Dad inquires.

"Good Heavens! I am Meredith Knight." She chuckles and extends her hand to which dad shakes with his own.

"Pleasure to meet you, Madame, I am Peter Taylor and this is my daughter, Amber Iris Taylor." Dad introduces us.

"No, it is my pleasure to finally meet you, indeed it is. I am a far relative of Maria." She speaks, beaming. She seems a happy-natured person, always smiling.

I narrow my eyes at her, my untrusting nature kicking in. "I didn't know mom has relatives here?"

"Honey, your mom was born in Wales but they moved out to Melbourne since she was a baby," Dad reveals, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"She told me so much about you," Meredith says, clasping her hands together.

"Funny...she didn't tell me anything about you." feigning innocence, I straighten up. Dad’s grip on my shoulder tightens a bit.

"Amber that's enough," he whispers in my ear, in a stern voice.

"No, it's alright Peter. All these things must be too much for her...I'll take my leave." She smiles sweetly again, but it does not reach her eyes.

"Very well Madame, until we meet again." Dad kisses her hand and I watch her leave and approach a short man in an all-dark suit. He has an expression that says 'I don't like people. She whispers something to him and he suddenly looks at me, his eyes flash something akin to interest.

"That's rude, honey." Dad scolds me.

"I don't trust her," I say in a flat and emotionless tone. My usual voice.

He observes the woman. "Your mom used to tell me she has far relatives but didn't come into details. She barely says anything about her family and you know that."

"She's an orphan," I state, eyeing the woman too. She is heading outside along with the others. "Why would she keep something as important as this?"

"I don't know honey, I don't know. “He pauses, staring into the sky like he is reminiscing the past. “Your mom has always had been so secretive. Yet she was as gentle as a rose and beautiful as spring season. I love her so much. I wish I had listened to her..." His voice cracks at the end, as he bows his head and covers his eyes with one hand.

"She cheated on you didn't she," I say bitterly yet there's no hatred left in me. "I heard you two shouting, then you left."

I embrace myself feeling cold all of a sudden. "Why did she do that to us dad?"

No word did he utter, he looks startled by my revelation. He remains silent for a moment before he took his eyeglasses from his pants pocket and wear it.

"Dad."

"Your mom is a good woman, honey, just remember that. There are things I wish I could tell you but ought to be kept."

That spices up my interest. "There is something you aren’t telling me."

"We, Uhm...should take our leave, the others already left." He insists, obviously avoiding the topic.

"Dad..." I plead, desperately. "That day it happened, mom told me to ask you, she said you would explain everything to me."

"There's nothing we should talk about Amber, drop it." He says in a stern voice then turns his back at me and starts to walk away.

"I saw a man with blood eyes behind our car." I quickly voice out to which he halts and stiffens.

"The car was moving dad..."

He slowly turns to face me with an expressionless face.

"Mom saw him too... b-before the brakes broke." I continue, hugging myself for some comfort. I did not dare tell this to anyone, nor the police. Afraid they would think I am going nuts. "D-dad... who was that? What is he?"

"What is he like?" He asks, taking a step forward.