I didn't know what was happening or why, but I did everything without comprehending my actions. I held her...it was a gut feeling and I acted on it. Shame and every other feeling of embarrassment could attack me later, when I finally stopped the tears from her eyes. Though there was that thought that crept into my head silently and unnoticed. What was I doing?
But there wasn't time to answer the question. I had to...stop whatever was happening to her. That meant the tears, the pain, and the guilt she tried to conceal from me as I guided her from the music room and through the halls. It was strange and awkward, holding her wrist so gently and to make it worse, she hid her face completely from me. Her steps seemed empty and hollow, like her eyes when she occasionally glanced at my back. I couldn't see them, but I just knew it. It would make sense, considering...
Eventually we were at the steps of the car park and her feet came to a halt, signifying me to stop. I turned back to look at her face with red, salty cheeks. "Where are we going?" she asked, her voice and innocent tone reminding me of a mouse.
I smiled because it was the best I could do at the moment and gently replied, "You're mother's grave." Her eyes widen ever so slightly and she yanked her wrist from my hands. Lynette held her hands together over her chest in such a strange fashion that I didn't know what the gesture was implying.
I tried not to sound mad or confused as best as I could. "What's wrong?" I asked. She bit her lip now, thinking something over her with a puzzled and worried expression. "Do you even know where? Where she's buried...?"
Again, I gave her a simple grin. "Angel's Cross Graveyard." I bluntly stated. You see, that graveyard is where they bury people like...people like the Brooks and even my own family. Even in death, they were laid to rest in a beautiful and luxurious place. It's ridiculous really, but that really wasn't the point now. I was taking her to see her mother.
She didn't say anything, but I supposed she would question me later on. Lynette slowly took my hand when I reached out for her. Everything was silent after that.
There was a bus stop close to the school and stores, if my memory serves me right, that had maps that outlined bus routes. We walked there, the same way we did when we passed through the halls. The concrete streets and the passing people and cars kept my eyes busy. But not my mind; my head continuously reminded me that I should look back at her - I couldn't. It would make my thoughts haunt me even more.
The bus stop and the stores I intended to buy from were in view now, and I let go of her to grab a map and pay the store owner. As I did so, in the corner of my eye I watched her seemingly thinning frame and locked shoulders. Simply because I could only see her back and her tangled hair did not mean I couldn't read her body language.
She was obviously unsure of what was going on, dazed even, but surely she was aware of me and nothing else. I couldn't understand her feeling very well, even though I, myself, am motherless. I guess it was because I didn't mourn her the way Lyn did her mother. I understood why she died and didn't cry when the day of her death returned each year, but I wasn't entirely myself either. Her pain and tears were familiar from a distance, but up close I was like everyone else: unsure of what was going in her strangled heart, but still willing to offer open arms of comfort.
I returned to her and reached out for her shoulder. Lynette jumped a little, showing that her current state of thought was located in the clouds. Maybe she was day dreaming or looking back on her mother's death and the woman's lingering maternal presence, but I did not know. And I wasn't going to ask.
"We'll be taking the bus," I said, as soft as I could. All she did was nod. That was it, a nod - not a word escaped from her lips. It saddened me a bit, not hearing her voice during the entire walk. But I hushed the feeling away, deciding to reflect on it when it was appropriate, which, if I may add, is never, thankfully.
When the bus arrived, it felt like an hour had passed when really it was only five minutes. I suppose it's the human brain and/or the feeling of anxiety that slows time down in our minds. Huh. I sounded like physiologist, a doctor even. Father would be proud, if he ever could be.
I led her on to the bus, like I did earlier, and sat us down on those cold metal chairs. Chills ran up my spine and back when I came in contact with the seat, but at the same time I didn't care. I could see the tiredness in her eyes as she sat down with her body quickly leaning back and relaxing into the chair. Waves of tempting sleep must have passed over her many times because her eyelids dipped more than once. With her head slumping on my shoulder and her body no longer tense, she had fallen asleep. On me, on my shoulder...It was...different. I gazed at her, wondering if she were calm in her sleep. She was. In fact, she almost looked...peaceful.