A Summer's Day? To compare you to?

Nah, that's too old school, bae.

I'll compare you to a hip-hop tune,

since that's the flavor of the day.

You're just like that poundin' bass,

gettin' my hips to a'bumpin',

and when you get all up in my face,

you make me feel like somethin'.

Them words you spit at me, tough,

get me all up in a lather;

one verse, two, three ain't enough;

above all, to be with you I'd rather.

And when all is spent, I still want more;

oh, baby, can't I have an encore?

Families, you would think they would want to spend every moment with each other or at least weekends or thanksgiving but not my family, not the Rickwisers. They wouldn’t even speak unless absolutely necessary

Take now for example we’re all in the same place, breathing the same air, standing shoulder to shoulder staring down at the box which holds the remains of my younger brother as it’s lowered into the ground.

My older brother, my selfish, egotistical, narcissistic older brother and his “oh hello I’m married to a Judge and I think I’m better than you” suburban wife stand opposite me, she’s crying but I wouldn’t call it crying more like weeping like a dying pig and I want so bad to punch her in the face, not only to shut her up but also for putting me to shame as I have not shed a single tear since his death

“It’s alright, rabbit” My Dad. No. Jonathan Rickwiser said , he doesn’t deserve the title of a dad; hasn’t for years. ”Everything is going to be alright” he squeezes my shoulder again and disgusted I pull away from him towards my mother whose on the other side of me.

“Oh darling” she cries nestling her head into my shoulder assuming I drew closer to comfort her yet I don’t pull away despite how much I want to, instead I pray for it to end, I pray for it all to end.

When I blink, it’s as if my prayers were answered as I find myself hiding in the kitchen of my parent’s house. No. scratch that.

My mother’s house now, well after a 2 year messy divorce case. Which ended up with her taking half of Jonathan Rickwiser’s 350 million Fortune. I see Prenup wasn’t in the dictionary but then again neither were adultery or paedophilia.

“Earth to jess” Jerry sings waving a chubby hand in front of my face, he had been the main reason I ran to the kitchen to hide.

“What” I spit unable to contain myself

“I,I’m Ssoory about ylu’r brother” he slurs for the hundredth time, the smell of beer and cigarettes hits me like a gust of wind making me gag.

“Thank you Jerry” I say bringing my hand up to my nose giving my sense of smell time to recover, he had changed and not changed so much since high school, his greasy red curls were still greasy and curly but at 27,

It seemed his fast metabolism had slowed down causing his once sexy physique which was the only thing sexy about Jerry Tanner to grow into a beer belly and a fairly large one at that.

“You know jess, how long has it been since you moved to New York” he asked stuffing his face with a lemon pastry “I read the article you did for the Huffington post.”

“You did?”

“Well of course, everyone in Glimmore did your mother basically threw it in our faces” he chuckles “if she had her way, she would force the state of Pennsylvania to read it”

“What do you do? Let me guess car mechanic? He lets out a deep throaty laugh doubling over and I catch my mother’s disproving eye, she directing the kitchen staff ordering them to take more cakes, sandwiches, taking sips of wine telling them which ones to give to the guests and which ones to take back to the cellar like this was one of her many dinner party and not her son’s Wake

She stood on the opposite side of the kitchen now lining up kebab styled prawns on a large plate and she looks foreign to me, not more than 5 days ago I had completely forgotten about my parents to the point their faces started become fuzzy, 5 years of freedom, one more year and I would have completely forgotten their faces.

“I see you’re still as funny as ever” he smiles running a hand down my arm before I even know what’s happening “Actually I help out my old man down at motel.” when I don’t answer he adds “The Running Duck?” Remember?”

“Yeah, I see you still haven’t changed the name.”

“Yeah, the old man thinks it’s disrespectful to change the name as it was built and named by my great great-granddad. If you want a place to stay?” he says before looking around “why would you, look at this place, it looks like a 5 Star hotel and I ain’t never left this town.”

Taking that as my que that this conversation has gone as far as it was going to go, I tell him I have to take a call fishing my phone out of my coat and heading back into the living room.

“Thank you” I’m saying for what feels like the thousandths time since entering the living room. The minute they're gone, they're replaced by someone else who loved my brother or “knows how I'm feeling” , and I reconsider if leaving the kitchen was the best idea even to get away from Jerry, people are standing all around chatting, eating, drinking how can they have an appetite at a time like this.

We just buried someone.

No.

Liam Rickwiser was his name. He was 23 years old, he liked coffee over tea, video games over books, DC over Marvel but believed Hulk was the strongest superhero ever created and he was my brother. Not theirs, mine that’s why they can eat. Because they don’t care, just like everyone else especially including those he called Mum and Dad.

Jonathan steps out telling me he’ll be back in a second probably smoking his 9th cigarette in the past hour or talking to his 18-year-old mistress or maybe both.

I head towards the door unable to accept these people's fake apologies and condolences people I hadn’t seen in years, people who spoke about me saying things like

She thinks going to New York is going to change her. When is she going to get married her career isn’t going to give her children.

My mother steps in my way before I make it to the door “Where’s your brother” she demands

Oh, his dead remember? We just buried him after he overdosed with your pills but no one knows that do they?

“I don’t know” I answer

“I have to do everything myself” she breathes her grey eyes cutting into me through the vail of her funeral hat, pinned into her long blonde curls. “This isn’t the time for you to be searching for husband Jessabelle, It’s your brother wake for god’s sake”

“What”

“You think I didn’t see you earlier with that degenerate, drunk in the kitchen laughing, flirting like some desperate hoo-ha, I know you’re getting old and it's getting difficult to find a suitor but Jerry Douglas” she places hand on my shoulder “that’s low even for you” her matter-of-fact tone slices straight through me

“Sorry” I murmur falling right back into the timid, docile, always ready to please little girl I was

Then it hit me

Is this what she thought of me? Some desperate 27 year old hoping to find a husband before she reached 30? Before her eggs got all scrambled

Then I’m angry but she doesn’t seem to notice and keeps talking

“Why was i still wearing my coat? Why didn’t I wear the dress she put out for me? Why didn’t I dye my hair back to blonde? Why, why, why

Till I’m crackling with anger enough to shake the chandelier and shatter every glass and plate in this room. “What do you want?” I say through gritted teeth staring her down with the same null of life grey eyes I inherited from her not concealing the distaste in my tone.

She falters for a moment surprised “Jessabelle” she snaps as if she should be the one offended “I planned the funeral, the Wake, Catering all on my own and I ask you where your brother is and you bite my head off.” She dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief

“What’s wrong” and here comes Jonathan swinging an arm around her “it’s Alright Alison, I’m here”

Everyone is staring at us now pity evident in their eyes as she sobs into his chest and he rocks her back and forth “All I ever prayed for was to die before my children that’s all I ever wanted” she mumbles and I can’t help but think

The Oscar goes to Alison Rickwiser and Jonathan Rickwiser.

“Where's Charles, Where's Charles” she half sobbed

“He’s out back” he replies “I’ll go get him” when he finally peels her off his shirt its stained with mascara but he’s unfazed by it but then again Why wouldn’t he be?

He had come home late since I was 9 smelling like perfume and dotted with lipstick stains.

Professor Rickwiser what can I do to get an A on tomorrow’s assignment? Whores!

“Rabbit”

“Yes” I reply quickly scared as if he might have heard my thought, he smiles “Sarah went upstairs to use the bathroom go get her, your mother wants to make a speech”

No why don’t you do it!! I want to protest

But I’m already at the top of the steps passing the maid’s rooms to the back of the hallway but not towards Sarah but my room or what used to be my room.

The room is empty besides the freaky Friday movie poster above the swan shaped bed, the room is bare. Emptied out when I went off to college, since I had already made up my mind that I wasn’t returning.

I hear crying, the body wrenching, soul freeing type and for a second as I run towards the door that used to connect me and Liam’s bedrooms,

I think its him, that he is not dead, that he has risen from the grave all muddy and pale like a zombie but instead

I see Sarah on Liam’s bed, hugging what seems to be a picture of Liam on his high school graduation tightly to her chest, crying her eyes out, muttering “I’m sorry I lied, yours, It’s yours”

unsure and confused whether to ask what she’s doing with a picture of my brother or even why she’s in his room, I slowly back away till I’m back in my room then race down the maids staircase leading to the kitchen in an effort to avoid my parents and make a clean exit out of this house and town

“Jess come on” My Dad.

No

Jonathan is pulling out of the kitchen into the living room before I know what’s happening “Where’s Sarah”

“I,I “ my words won’t come out “Don’t worry rabbit” he says with dismissive gesture “Charles up, plus your mother’s about to make her speech”

I am pulled to the front of the room next to my mother as Jonathan tries to get everyone’s attention “As you all know Liam was an honest, nurturing boy who didn’t believe in the unjust ruling of our world.” She begins but the rest might as well have been white Nosie because Charles and Sarah are coming towards us

And I think I’ve imagined the whole scene from earlier as there is not a hair out of place or lipstick stains on her teeth

People are crying and I realise mother has finished her speech “I have something to say” calls a voice, Charles, he steps forward with a glass of wine in hand “As you all know, Liam was my younger brother and I loved him dearly, but to every dark cloud there is a silver lining and so with that I’m happy to say that my wife" he gestures at Sarah "is pregnant and to you this may not seem like a miracle but I was told by specialists it was impossible

I’m not listening anymore my mind is racing, connecting the dots

It’s your, it’s your

The baby

Liam…