It was a bright day, not as in sunny but as in the attitude of the people of the area. Everyone seemed to have a pleasant outlook on life that day. It was one of those storybook days where everyone said good day, good morning and good afternoon to one another. It was a day where everything seemed to be going right for everyone, everyone but Daniel and Dustin McHale; they were 18-year-old fraternal twin boys who had lost their mom only two days earlier. She was not a remarkable woman, not remarkable to anyone but her two sons, even though Dustin resented her for not having a more impressive job; she was a cook in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, in a back alley, in a small town. No one would miss her but the people she worked with and her sons. She had a good heart, and would go without eating some days so her boys could be full when they went to bed. She was part of the backbone of America, and like most parts of America’s backbone, she had been twisted and distorted. Finally, her tinny, tired, sick body just couldn’t take anymore, and decided tot give up. While she lay in bed asleep, her lungs, heart, and brain had a little meeting behind her back: they’d had enough of this hard life; it was time for them to be moving on. It had been another long day of cooking disgusting food for people who worked hard jobs, for little pay, the poor feeding the poor, just as god intended, and when we say god we really mean the super-rich, because for these people the rich have taken over their destiny and forced them to live in homes that are not fit for mice, and to work in jobs that oxen wouldn’t do.
The town they lived in was a tired, dirty little town, way out in the hills, out “in the sticks,” as some people would say. Coal mining was the industry of choice, and the black dust that rose off of those rocks seemed to blanket the town. There was nothing white left; it had all turned to a dark shade of gray. The roads were thick with dark mud that had been left behind by thousands of 18 wheelers; those mighty beasts thundered through that town day and night, circling with their mighty massive pipes exhaling thick smoke like mighty dragons, ready to feast on all the inhabitants in sight. The rich didn’t get richer, the poor didn’t get poorer; it was stagnant, like a town lost in time. It was one of those towns that no one ever seemed to escape; it dragged you in and held on to you with it’s mighty grasp like a sea creature from fishermen’s night mares. The rich kids didn’t want to leave because they knew that wherever they went they wouldn’t be son of the mighty, they would be a small fish in a wide open ocean, and in that little town of just over 30,000 they were a shark who would control everything after the passing of their tyrannical parents. The poor didn’t want to go because this was familiar; the only thing they knew of the outside world was what they saw on TV, and that was no place they wanted to be.
Who wants to be in a world full of people who riot when they’re mad, riot when they’re happy -- a place where it seems like you could be shot anywhere, at any time, and a place where it seemed like no one cares about anyone, including themselves. No thank you, they would just stay where it was safe, and carry on the family tradition of spending half their lives underground, making people in far-off lands rich.
Her name was Beth and she was small in stature, 5ft 5in, and about as slender as they come, without looking like a skeleton. Her teeth were yellow from all the years of smoking she did as a young adult. She quit when money had started running low about 10 years ago, but had never had the money to have them cleaned. She had black hair, but it had turned a shade of salt and pepper, her eyes were as green as the leaves on a spring oak tree, and she had freckles that ran across her nose and cheeks. At one time in her life she was beautiful, but this hard life wore her beauty away like the wind on a desert adobe. She was not found until the next morning, when Daniel went in to wake her. Imagine the pure devastation to the mind of an 18-year-old boy, finding the cold, dead body of his mom; that would for sure weigh heavy on anyone’s head, let alone someone so young. Something like that would either turn you into a man real quick, or an invalid, and whatever way it went you were sure to be a little not right in the head.
The brothers, while not different as night and day, still had a lot of contrast between them. Daniel, while not a large man, was taller than many of his friends, and had the frame that could hold much more body mass than he currently carried around. He was pretty thin at this point, because of all the hiking that he enjoyed. His hair was a dark brown, and shaggy, not to the point of looking like a metal singer, but long enough to pass for 90’s grunge. His eyes were hazel and medium in size, with long eyelashes surrounding them. He had a nose that was a little larger than the norm, and a little larger then he would have liked. He wasn’t a social butterfly by any means, but he was somewhat social, and enjoyed a good conversation. His interests were that of an artist, he loved to draw, read, write short stories, and loved anything with some age on it; he could look at old houses and antique furniture for hours. Dustin was a little on the smaller size, he was about two inches shorter than his brother, and his frame was more on the delicate side, suited for a small man, which he was. His hair was similar in color to that of his brother, but the length would vary greatly from one part of the year to the next; he would let it grow until it was far down his back, and then have it all cut off. He tried to visit the barber as infrequently as possible, so letting it grow out was his only option. His eyes were a little darker then Daniels, and not as big, but his eyelashes were large enough to make most women envious. He wasn’t a social man, more of a hermit; his only friends were Daniels friends. Daniel had made sure his brother was included in most of their activities.
The boys were about to graduate in three weeks and they needed to figure out what they were going to do with their lives. They had inherited everything their mom had to her name, but that was not much, and the boys never knew their dad, never really knew him. He left when the boys were nine and even before then he was not a part of their lives. He cared more about “drinking and fucking,” as their mom always said, and the only time he ever acknowledged their presence was when he felt like hurting something. He left one morning and never came back, and everyone involved hoped he was out of their lives for good, seeing him again would never bring them joy, not even if he got his life together -- too much pain had been caused for them to forgive.
This should have been one of the happiest times of their lives; they were about to graduate from high school and move on with their lives, but that was all covered over with a black ghostly figure. Death had stolen their mom away, and now life was much scarier, they didn’t know what their future now held, or how they would have the money to even live. Daniel had a good starter job, a good first job, but it was in no way a good enough job to pay all the living expenses of two adult men. Dustin did work some, but only from time to time. It really didn’t help out much with all the bills that were accumulating. The funeral was nothing like the ones on TV, most of the people there couldn’t afford suits so they were in their work clothing, the church was not one of the big cathedrals, but more like a shack with some crosses, and photos of a long blond-haired Jesus thrown on random walls for good measure.
The preacher was a man in his 60s, and like most of the other attending bodies had been broken down from years of hard labor. He had on a button-up blue shirt that had been faded from far too many washes at the local laundry mat, and had on some cheap black pants. But the way the preacher looked didn’t stop him from “preaching up a storm” as Daniel heard one man say. There were some flowers, not a lot, but some is better than none. The only thing this funeral had in common with the ones on TV was that everyone in the house had tears flowing from their eyes like small waterfalls from the top of small mountains. As the small choir began to sing some old time hymns, some of the parishioners began to stand up and wave their hands around, and they began to scream “praise Jesus” and then let out a pulsating cry as they clapped their hands. Daniel and Dustin were forced to sit in the front row, because that was where the family sat during these times. Some of the close friends and neighbors sat with them, to comfort them in this trying time. The brothers hid their eyes with dark sunglasses and well-worn hoodies, trying to not let their faces be seen by anyone that wasn’t in direct view of them.
They didn’t say much through the service, and tried to keep to themselves as much as possible. The funeral director had volunteered his time, and his hearse, because he knew Beth very well. She had always been kind to him, so he felt it was only right for him to do this one last nice thing for her.
She was buried in a plot at the edge of the graveyard. It wasn’t a bad spot, there were some trees nearby, and if you looked really close you could see the river in the distance. Her tombstone was very modest, just large enough to have her name and the dates of her birth and death on it; that was paid for by a kind widow that lived in their building. After everything was said by the graveside Dustin and Daniel decided they wanted to walk home, even though many people insisted they ride with them.
They didn’t say one word on their walk home, didn’t even look at one another, they just walked side by side, to show their support for one another. When they made it back to the apartment there was a large number of people at their building, everyone had opened their doors, and food was displayed on every table, because in the south neighbors always brought food, no matter how poor you were, you always brought something to the grieving family member, and there was so much food, that it would not be possible to fit it in the brothers small apartment. People came in and out of that building until well after midnight. People were telling stories about some nice gesture that she had done for them, they would eat some food, hug the tired boys, and be on their way. When the day had finally ended, and the boys could get some rest, they went to their separate bedrooms and spent a sleepless night looking at the ceiling.