WINONA NEVER HAD TO SAY GOODBYE TO ANYONE BEFORE. She didn't know how to. She used to think that the sad funeral scenes in the movies and books were exactly how people said their final goodbyes; how they started to find closure after facing such a painful loss. Tears are shed in crowds of people clad in black. Maybe there's even a poetic send-off of some sort. There are mournful toasts, flower arrangements. and condolences from people who you haven't otherwise seen in forever. You are expected to say your last goodbye, acknowledge your grief, and carry on with the life you have left. What those damn movies never tell you is how anyone ever gets to that place where they are ready to say goodbye. They told her that she had to say goodbye because it was time, because everyone else was doing it, because it was just what she had to do so everyone else could feel comfortable about moving on with their lives. Winona didn't give a shit what anyone else wanted from her because they didn't know her like she did. She didn't deserve to be so easily written off. She didn't want to say goodbye. Her mama was still here. She had to be. Someone that extraordinary couldn't just vanish from the face of the earth. Her mama was the most mysterious and charming person she had ever known. She was a beautiful woman with a mane of silky brown hair and startling green eyes that could outshine the prettiest ocean, and Winona always loved it when people told her that she looked like her. She had wanderlust coursing through her veins and never stayed in one place for too long. When she was younger, she would ride her beloved bike all across the country in search of something extraordinary. She had sold hundreds of paintings depicting the sights she saw over the years, feeding her career as an artist just enough to fund her adventures. After Winona came along, they would settle down in a quaint town or bustling city that piqued her interest for a few years until she got that itch to explore the great beyond again. Winona always knew when her mama was getting ready to move on to a new place because she would lock herself in her room and paint everything near and far until there was nothing left to see. "Winona," She would say, "There are brighter sunsets and bluer skies waiting for us out there." They would load up all of their belongings into the back of their car within a week and set out onto the open road again. With paint under her fingernails and a twinkle of hope in her eyes, she would give Winona one of those dazzling smiles of hers, and she wouldn't be able to suppress the swell of excitement in the pit of her stomach. Even when Winona had grown attached to one place, she always managed to get me to look forward to the future. Her mama had that same look in her eyes that night. Her green irises glistened with inebriation and tears under the streetlamp as she climbed into her car. Her hands were still stained with oil paints when she turned the keys in the ignition and the car's engine roared to life around her. Winona remembered bracing her hands on the open window, looking at her with anything but excitement as the car shuddered, warning her of the potential danger to come. She begged her to wait until the morning -- to wait until the sun was shining bright and the skies were bluer -- but there was no talking her mama out of anything once she made up her mind. She gave her daughter a crumpled smile and she saw that familiar look in her eyes, only the hope was tainted by melancholy this time. The glaring blue numbers on the radio clock changed to 9:46 pm when she put the car into drive, forcing Winona away from the car. "Don't you worry, Winona. I'll be back for you in the morning." Winona could still hear the tires grinding on the gravel of the driveway as she pulled out of it. She took off down that dark, empty road she had driven down a hundred times before. Winona was worried because she had been drinking -- not that it was unusual for her to enjoy a glass or two of wine in the evening -- when she set out on the road that night, but she never fathomed that anything would actually happen to her. She was Mama, after all. Brilliant. Spectacular. Invincible. At 10:03 pm, her car swerved off of the road and collided with a tree, killing her instantly. It had been exactly a week since the crash. Winona was still hoping that this was all some horrible dream and that her mama was going to pull up into the driveway with their luggage packed, raving about a new adventure as she apologized for staying out for so long. She heard her dad telling his wife, Susan, that she was in denial. Being in denial was better than being forced to say goodbye at a funeral she never would have wanted, surrounded by people who never really knew her to begin with. Winona stood in front of the body-length mirror in her new and unfamiliar bedroom, staring at her reflection. Her wavy, chestnut-brown hair tickled the top of her shoulders, framing her sharp cheekbones -- her mama used to say that she had cheekbones like the finest of sculptures, and only God himself could chisel out such a beautiful feature. She angled her head at the thought of it, inspecting her jawline until her focus was pulled to the purple half-moons beneath her eyes. She looked like a hot mess, but she was sure that her attire would distract everyone from that. The pit of dread in her stomach grew larger with every step she took down the stairs. The quiet buzz of chatter from friends, family, and others paying their respects and enjoying hors d'oeuvres reached her ears, and she felt a heat rise to her cheeks. They didn't know her mama, nor did they care. While she was alive, half of them ridiculed her way of life and judged her character; the other half were only there out of obligation to her dad. The man in question, Derek Prescott, was standing in the archway leading into the living room, conversing with his wife, Susan, and two other people. The house was full of unfamiliar faces, and all of them turned to Winona once she reached the bottom landing. Whispers and gasps were exchanged among them and her dad, noticing the sudden change in the atmosphere, turned to see what caused it. She did. Susan brought her hand over her mouth at the sight of her. Mr. Prescott's eyes widened to the size of saucers and he strode towards her with urgency. "What on earth are you wearing?!"
She glanced down at her dress. It was a pink skater dress that she chose to pair with her favorite pair of black sneakers as an extra fuck you. She met her dad's eyes with a defiant stare and shrugged. "You told me to put on a nice dress." "You -- You can't wear a pink dress to your mother's funeral!" He whispered, glancing around. She followed his gaze with amusement and spotted her stepsiblings, Jacob and Kate, standing with their mouths hanging open in the foyer. They were among their cousins and friends, which only made it that much more satisfying to watch. "This is the reception," She replied smartly, taking a step up on the stairs to meet his height, "And I'm in protest." A large purple vein popped out in his forehead and she watched with more glee than she had felt in days as he struggled to bottle his temper. Susan, in all of her blonde beauty, took the opportunity to intervene like the good mediator she was. She placed an affectionate hand on his arm and uttered, "Honey, I think we should let Winona handle this in whatever way she feels comfortable." "She's not handling it, she's trying to get a rise out of me!" He whispered back, never breaking his gaze with me. Winona cracked a smile, "I would never." The unwelcome guests were clearly becoming uncomfortable, and her smile only grew even more. Dad closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath to calm himself. As he readjusted his tie, he opened his eyes and his gaze was a little softer. "Why are you doing this, Winona?" Her smile quickly vanished as a scowl took its place. "You know exactly why. You claim to have known her, but if you did, you'd know she wouldn't have wanted any of this! The flowers, the fake mourners, the food -- it's all such bullshit!" His eyes glossed over as if he was actually hurt by her words, but she knew better. He was ashamed of her -- of the fact that she chose to embarrass him at a solemn event instead of behaving like the perfect, obedient little daughter he wanted her to be. Well screw him, and screw this. He shook his head and sighed. "It was the proper thing to do. If you don't want to be part of it, I suppose you don't have to be. But you were her only child, and you should be present -- properly present." "The dress stays." The purple vein was in danger of popping out again and Susan seemed to realize that because she urged him to rejoin the reception. Winona leveled his gaze and they stood like that for a long moment before he chose to take the high road and return to his previous activities. She lingered on the stairs for a moment longer so that everyone could get one last proper look at her dress, then she wandered into the kitchen to inspect the trays of hors d'oeuvres. Her younger half-brother, Hugo, was swinging his legs from on top of a barstool at the kitchen counter as he stuffed his mouth with pigs-in-a-blanket. She walked around the island, inspecting and picking at the food. He peered up from his plate with big, cute blue eyes. "Hi, Winona." "Hello, Hugo." She replied dejectedly. He furrowed his eyebrows. "Why're you wearing pink?" She popped a crab cake into her mouth and peered solemnly at him. "I'm in protest." "What're you protesting?" "The ingenuine nature of funerals, expected social norms, oh -- and color associations." The kid seemed to ponder this for a moment as he chewed on a mini hotdog. Then he shook his head. "I don't really know what any of that means." "I'll teach you in a few years," She replied, aware of the amusement in her voice. She smirked as a few people who she recognized as the next-door neighbors eyed her dress with disapproval and surprise. She shoved the platter of crab cakes towards Hugo. "Try a crab cake. They're not bad." She shuffled into the living room, ignoring most of the guests as she passed. Some of them offered their condolences while trying their best not to survey her attire, and she managed polite smiles for them. Truthfully, she wanted to scream at everyone to get the fuck out -- but it wasn't her house, and she wasn't the host. She moved in with her dad and his family five days ago. Since she was still only seventeen and her mom didn't have any known relatives, she had to move in with him after she died. The news of her death was still ringing in her ears when she packed up all of my things and moved into the guest room of their luxurious home. Everything was unfamiliar to me -- the neighborhood, the people, the house, and the people I lived with -- and naturally, she hated it. She hated anything that wasn't her home, her Mama, her old life. It was a beautiful day, and she hated that, too. The skies should have been mourning her mama with torrential rain, dark clouds, and wicked thunder. Instead, the sun was shining and there wasn't a single cloud in the unblemished blue sky. It didn't know about the tragedy that had occurred on Finnigan Road. Perhaps the universe was in denial like my father thought she was. She stared out of the open window at the spacious backyard. The brick-paved patio which was decorated with a table set, a barbecue, and a swing gave way to a vast green lawn. On the side of the yard, the water in the large in-ground pool glittered under the gaze of the sunlight. It occurred to her to go for a swim in the pool. It was exactly the thing she'd need to tip her dad's scale and make him go nuts, and she was always in favor of doing something to piss him off. Winona didn't hate her dad, contrary to how she acted towards him. She did resent him, though. She resented him for not knowing him and for him letting it be that way between them. He acted as if he knew her, but he didn't know anything about her. The only things she knew about him were learned on occasional scheduled weekend visits where he would act all proper and put-together -- just as he was now -- as if he had to put on a show for her and give his best impression. She would have respected him more if he was real -- purple vein and all -- but she could only get the genuine side of him out behind closed doors or when she really pissed him off. He was doing his best to focus on his conversation with his wife and two neighbors on the other side of the room, but she caught him glancing in her direction a few times. She met his gaze one of those times and he simply regarded her with solemnity before returning his attention to the conversation. She thought nothing of it. She was just about to return to window-gazing when a young woman standing a few feet behind him caught her attention. She appeared to be around her age, but she seemed simultaneously younger and older than her at the same time. Perhaps it was the way she dressed: she wore a black leather jacket over a simple black top, loose black jeans, and combat boots that gave off a 90s-had-a-baby-with-2000s-punk-rock vibe. She wore her inky-black hair in a spunky pixie cut that didn't help much. She seemed vaguely familiar to me as if we had met a long time ago, but she knew that was impossible because she didn't know anyone in this neighborhood -- much less a girl who looked like that. She must have been a friend of Jacob's or Kate's. They were always hanging around the house. She turned away before she could notice my gaze lingering on her a little too long, and her gaze fell upon the massive family portrait hanging on the wall above the fireplace and mantel. Dad and Susan stood behind Kate and Jacob sitting in chairs, with Hugo standing between them. She wasn't in it but she didn't belong there anyway. Goosebumps raised on her arms as she suddenly felt many pairs of eyes fixated on her, and she decided to finally take her exit from the show that was the reception and find some solitude outside. She cut through the kitchen again, ignoring her Dad's questioning glance as she slipped past him and walked onto the front porch. She collapsed onto the porch swing beside the front door and kicked her legs up, heaving a great sigh. "Clever fashion statement." Winona turned around to see the spunky girl from before standing on the other side of the porch, holding a cigarette between her fingers. Her eyes twinkled as she peered at her. "I'm protesting the conventionalism of funerals." Honestly, she loathed the color pink. "I just don't understand any of this. I told my dad that my mom wouldn't want some impersonal, traditional funeral. All of these strangers have come out of the woodworks to shed some empathetic tears, give some empty condolences, and make sure their faces are seen. It's utter bullshit. The girl was by no means girly or delicate, but there was something graceful in the way she smiled softly and leaned against the banister with casual ease. "It's basic human nature to flock together when tragedy strikes. We cling to flowers, music -- hell, even color coordination at funerals -- because we want to know that we're not alone in our suffering and pain. It's a way to cling onto someone for just a little longer after they're gone; to force the last goodbye we usually don't get to have." "If anyone should have gotten to have a last goodbye, it should have been me. This isn't the way to do it." Winona replied with fervency. She wouldn't have wanted any part of it, but he wouldn't listen to her. He never does. "I just don't get what he or any of the rest of those people are getting out of it. " "Have you ever thought that maybe your dad needed to have it? I mean, I don't know shit about you, but maybe he's trying to make up for something. Or maybe he's really just mourning, too. By the looks of the inside of that house, he doesn't seem like the type to do anything except what's conventional." Winona pondered her words for a moment. It might have been true. She and her dad had a rocky relationship since he left her mama when she was seven years old. Once they cut the ties of their relationship, her mama would scoop their lives up every few months to move somewhere else. Her dad stopped fighting her on how far away she would take their daughter once he met Susan and her young children, and found a family in them. Deep down, I was still bitter about it, but I never considered that maybe he regretted the way he let everything go down, too. Maybe this funeral was his way of starting to build a bridge. After a long moment, the bitterness returned, and she was convinced that even if that was the truth, her dad was also looking for a way to convey to all of his friends that he was trying to do right by his estranged daughter. She frowned. "He used to...but that was another lifetime ago." The mysterious girl simply smiled at her. Instead of regarding her with pity like everyone else in that damn house, her eyes twinkled with empathy. "If you could honor your mom in any way you wanted, what would you do?" Amid all of the anger and defiance that Winona felt towards her dad for hosting the funeral, she never actually considered what her mom would have wanted in place of it, or even what she wanted. She suddenly felt like a hypocrite for being so intolerable towards her father when she didn't have a better idea herself. "I... I don't know." The girl remained silent. She simply offered her a wistful smile and turned her head away, almost as if to give Winona the privacy she needed for such deep introspection. A small group of women quietly exited the house, chatting in hushed voices about the perfect family and the poor, troubled girl they were obligated to take in. One of the women turned her head, spotted Winona on the swing, and motioned for her company to stop. It was too late. They were well aware that she heard them and scurried off with embarrassed smiles on their faces as Winona simply stared after them. The mysterious girl stared after them, too. "Screw them. They don't matter." "My thoughts exactly," Winona muttered. She didn't know any of them, and therefore didn't care about why they were there. It occurred to her at that moment that she had spilled her innermost thoughts to a complete stranger. "You know, I never caught your name." "Julia Parker." She winked, "But you can call me Jules." "Okay, Jules. I'm Winona. Um... how do you know my step-family?" Julia hopped off of the banister and grinned, "Oh, I don't. I mean, everyone who knows the Hamilton siblings knew about the funeral today. I wasn't going to come, but-" "-But you decided that you wanted to get a glimpse of the poor, motherless step-sister and welcome her to the neighborhood?" Winona surprised herself with the amount of bitterness oozing from her voice. Julia merely quirked her lips into a lopsided, empathetic smile. "Actually, I was just passing by when I spotted a girl in a bright pink dress through the window, looking the saddest I've ever seen anyone look in my life. Everyone around her seemed so focused on the dress that they didn't see the hurting girl wearing it, so I wanted to show her that someone saw her -- even if it's coming from someone as invisible as I am." Winona didn't think this girl could manage to be invisible even if she tried. "That's an awfully selfless thing to do for someone you don't know." Julia grinned back at her. It seemed to be her thing. "Maybe it wasn't selfless at all. Maybe I'm indulging a hero-complex, or just looking for a good challenge. Maybe it's one more thing to add to a long-running list of damnable selfishness I've built for myself. You don't know me, Winona, but you're looking at me through a rose-colored window. I saw it in your eyes when you were standing by yourself before. You have to step away from the window and open your eyes. The strange girl is just a soul seeking redemption in any way she can get it. The man in the perfect suit is concealing a heart full of fear. The girl in the pink dress is hiding more sadness and confusion than she knows what to do with. " Winona shook her head in exasperation and ran her hands through her hair. "Okay, seriously. Did Jacob and Kate pay you to do some dare -- to say a bunch of crazy insightful shit to inspire a breakdown or something to scare me away? Well, it's not going to work." For the first time since their meeting, Julia frowned. She was silent for a moment, turning her gaze from Winona to the toes of her boots as she contemplated something. "I came on a little strong, didn't I? I have a tendency of doing that when I get over-enthusiastic about stuff." She sighed, "Look, I didn't mean to freak you out. It's just...I know a little bit about how you're feeling right now. I've gone through some shit myself, and I figure I can help you out. Call it a kindred-souls sort of thing, if you will." "And why do you want to help me?"
"I want us to help each other." "With what?"
"I don't know that much yet, but I'll let you know when I do." The subtle smile returns to her lips as she walked down the porch steps and started walking backward on the path leading to the sidewalk. She winked at her again, turned around, and walked down the block. Winona watched her go with her eyebrows furrowed as she wondered who that strange girl was and whether or not Jacob and Kate would run out of the house with cameras in hand to capture her bewildered expression on video. Instead, her seven-year-old little brother walked out of the house with his skateboard slung under his arm. He had sloppily tied a pink tie around his neck to show his solidarity. She couldn't help the small smile that graced her lips at his innocent effort. "Wanna go to the park?"
She didn't really want to go anywhere but to her stupid new room and sulk, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to until all of their humble guests left. "How far is it?"
"Four blocks." She huffed and shrugged. "Why not?" He followed her off of the porch and into the street where he set the skateboard down and stepped on. Much to her mild surprise, he took her wrist to steady himself and kicked off of the ground. She silently walked along beside him. They only got a few feet in when Jacob and Kate walked out onto the porch. "What're you doing?!" Jacob hollered. "Kidnapping the kid!" Winona replied sarcastically. "What do you want us to tell your dad?" Kate asked. "Whatever the fuck you want!" She called back, then muttered under her breath as they turned at the end of the block. Hugo glanced up at her as he let his skateboard carry him a few feet. "You swear a lot." "Yeah, I do. Don't copy me, though." "Okay." He simply shrugged and kicked at the ground again. She matched his pace. They walked for a while and basked in a comfortable silence that she didn't even think the kid was capable of. Hugo was a loquacious boy, to say the least, and he never failed to prove it every time she was around. Today, however, he seemed to sense her sadness and otherwise foul mood, and chose to keep quiet. "Hey, Hugo? Do you think Dad seemed sad at all today?" "I dunno. He kinda acted like he does when he has guests over for dinner." "Yeah," The bitterness returned to her in full force, and she found it hard to keep a firm grasp on the strange girl's unsolicited words of wisdom about her father, "That's what I thought." The sun was beginning to set when they finally came in sight of the park, and Winona pulled Hugo onto the sidewalk just as the street lamps flickered on. The boy gave her his skateboard and jogged towards the playground as she followed leisurely behind with his dress jacket in hand. He hopped onto the nearest swing. She breathed a sigh, absorbing the unfamiliar silence that came with the peaceful neighborhood. The only sound that filled her ears besides the occasional rustling of tree leaves in the wind was the rumble of an approaching car. Winona's last goodbye to her Mama was never said. She never got to tell her how much she loved her or how much she would miss her. So when that car came pulling up down the road, its glaring headlights blinding her along with the hopeful tears welling in her eyes, her heart skipped a beat because she thought her Mama had come back. This was all just some terribly vivid dream that she was going to wake up from any minute now. It was all going to be okay because her Mama was going to stop the car and take her on their next extraordinary adventure. "Mama?" The car passed by her without stopping or hesitating, and her heart fell in her chest like a stone sinks in a pool of water. She leaned back against the fence surrounding the playground and sat down on the sidewalk, gripping onto the chain-link fence with all of her might as the dam broke and the tears began to fall. She brought her hand up to her mouth to muffle her sobs as they claimed her body, and she shut her eyes to the darkening sky and empty street. Her Mama was not coming back for her. Winona didn't know how to say goodbye -- and even if she did, she didn't want to -- but now it was too late. She was never going to get her chance and that, more than anything, is what devastated her the most. She just couldn't understand how someone as extraordinary as her Mama could be taken from her in the blink of an eye -- as if she never existed at all. She would never get to see any more bright sunsets and blue skies with her on one of their epic adventures because she was all alone in this world now -- surrounded by family, but still on her own. The mysterious Julia Parker told her to stop seeing the world through a rose-tinted window, but it was her mother who taught her to see the world that way in the first place. She taught her to see the way the sun bleeds during sunsets; how the snow settles like a cold blanket on the earth; how the beautiful death of one season brings about the glorious bringing of another. She taught her how to see people for their beauty, not their pain. Now, she feared that she would only see everything through her own pain and heartache. Forget the rose-tinted shit -- she was facing a bombardment of colors and didn't know how to sort them through or decipher what was what. Everything she used to know and love was in chaos and disarray without her mama. She hid behind a pink dress, colorful swear words, and biting sarcasm because it was easier than admitting she was afraid that she would never get any of it back in order again -- that she would never be the same again. Tonight, as she opened her eyes again to that sunset, she couldn't help but feel bombarded by it. It was screaming colors at her, urging her to admit what she tried her hardest to ignore since 10:03 pm on that cursed night. Her life was going to be different now, and there was no getting back to before it all happened. Some part of her mourned the life she was never going to get back, while the other part of her was bitterly content by it. Nothing should ever be normal again without her because she was a force too strong not to be missed. She was Mama, after all. Brilliant. Spectacular. Invincible. Gone.
REGARDING WINONA FIND IT ON AMAZON IN DIGITAL, PAPERBACK, AND HARDCOVER FORMATS.