Page 87 - The Bridge Vol 17_pgs

VOLume 17

All i ordered was orange juice

caitlin faria

creative nonfiction

There was a lot happening on the day of knew it was familiar—I had been there countless
Papa’s funeral. At least there was for my family. times before with Nana, Papa, Aunty Mo, Uncle
We all had to meet up with each other, go to the Gabriel, basically every member of my family—but it
funeral home, drive to the cemetery, and watch looked so alien that day. Nothing seemed to really fit.
as the color drained out of our worlds. It’s weird The colors smashed into each other, the smells were
thinking about that day—knowing that to the vast overbearing, and every piece of furniture looked
majority of people, it was a normal day. They woke somehow off. The moment I walked through that
up and ate some cereal. They watched some TV, doorway every aspect of my life changed, everything
maybe a movie. They went to work. They were I looked at changed. I became a completely different
probably bored most of the time. person. I still don’t know if I became better, but I
I don’t remember ever feeling as exhausted as know I’m not the same. That childhood landmark
I was that morning. There weren’t any thoughts— was the first place I visited on the day I grew up.
no “I can’t believe he’s gone” or “where do I go Around me was my sister Erin, my brother
from here?” It was just all blank. That had never Kevin, my mom, my cousin Brendan, and my Uncle
happened to me before. My thoughts were usually Gus. We sat in the restaurant for about forty-
racing. That morning, they were completely silent. five minutes. During that time we maybe said six
I got dressed and went upstairs. I didn’t eat cereal. I words each, speaking only to order. Some people
didn’t watch TV. There was no work to do. We just got muffins, Erin got a bagel, but no one ordered
had to get in the car and go to Rockland. So that’s any of their usual items like pancakes or waffles. I
what we did. asked for orange juice.
We got there with a lot of time left. Why I never order orange juice. Every time I go to
didn’t we go to Nana and Aunty Mo’s house like Butterfields I get chocolate milk. There was no reason
we usually did? It was only around the corner from for me to get orange juice. The words just came out.
where we ended up. Maybe none of us were ready “Can I have orange juice please?” I don’t even
to feel that close to Papa again. Maybe none of us really like it that much. That doesn’t matter though
were ready to see all the flowers people sent, or all because I couldn’t taste it.
the pictures, or his favorite spot on the couch. I Usually there’s a tanginess that sits on your
don’t know how Nana and Aunty Mo did it. tongue and a flood of coolness that goes all the
We pulled into the parking lot of Butterfields, way from your lips down to your throat when you
a small breakfast place that we go to all the time. I take a sip of orange juice. There wasn’t any of that.

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