Closed No Complaints

[Michelle Long]

Michelle hated these things. The food they served sucked, everyone was so sad, and she felt like she was dressed for the funeral all over again. But she still went. She still sat in a circle and talked about her feelings with strangers feeling both bonded to them and miles away. Mitch's son had been gone now for over a month, but she kept coming. It gave her something to do on a Tuesday night when she didn't want to be home alone with no one to talk to. After all, Tuesdays were Rummy nights with her son - were. Why was the past tense so hurtful?

The group had finished sharing some of their thoughts on grief and how it manifested, or something like that, Michelle could barely hear over the woman next to her sobbing. She had continued to manifest tissues for her through the whole meeting. She was new. Actually a few of the faces were new. She grabbed herself a dry doughnut and a cup of stale coffee and moved over to one of the new comers. "Was this what you thought it'd be?" She asked, referring to the meeting. People maybe didn't have expectations for these types of things, but Michelle had. Just a bunch of people trying hard to deal with grief in their own way - even if it's not the way she would choose she respected it.

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Monty didn't regret taking Kata's advice, but he wasn't sure he'd be coming back in a hurry. Throughout the meeting, he had sat calmly and quietly, hands in lap, head bowed to show respect for those who were weeping. The pressure in the room was palpable - a heavy mix of grief, love, and compassion. Fearful of succumbing to his own emotion, Monty had tried to keep some mental distance, and when prompted to share his own loss he politely declined. If there was anywhere he could cry without fear of judgement, it was here, but it was too much. He wasn't ready.

As everybody stood up, Monty put on his coat. He intended to slip out unheeded, but he paused at the noticeboard to read an advert about arithmancy, and it was here that a young lady approached him. "Oh," he said. "Well, it wasn't really my idea. But I suppose so, yes." A small group of women approached, heading for the exit. Monty bowed his head again until they had passed. "I hope I didn't seem rude - you know, not saying anything. I was very sorry to hear about your son."

 

[Michelle Long]

Mitch took a bite of her doughnut as he spoke and shook her head when he was done. "Nah, everyone shares grief in their own way and in their own time. I learned that when my mum died." She said easily. "Coming here they say is a brave first step though. I'm not sure if I ever considered myself brave for it but now every third Tuesday I find myself coming back." She rambled a bit. "I'm sorry, I have no manners. I'm Michelle." Though they often introduced themselves before talking it still felt weird not introducing herself when one on one with someone. "Not going to indulge in the moistureless doughnuts and bitter coffee?" She asked jokingly.

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Monty was startled by the lady's frankness, but it was oddly refreshing. Still, he wasn't sure he'd have called himself brave. He smiled as Michelle immediately echoed his thought out loud. "No, not at all. Monty," he said. Then he felt guilty for smiling, and the sombre expression he had worn all evening returned. He shook his head at her offer. "Sorry, it's - it was only a few weeks ago. I'm still a bit..." The words escaped him, so he gestured weakly. "Forgive me. Thank you for coming to say hello. I'm not familiar with support meeting etiquette, you know. It's all a bit uncomfortable. Do you find it helps?"

 

[Michelle Long]

Michelle smiled at him being willing to chat for a second. It was hard in places like these to make a true connection or friendship beyond grief. But Michelle was determined not to let her grief control her life. "Ah a fresh wound, I understand. My Son died around a month or so ago. I was quite reserved here for the first meeting because it was so new." She offered. "I feel that it helps to know you aren't alone. It can be so easy to become isolated in these things." She said wisely. Clearly she had been doing her studying on grief. It helped that she was smart enough to get a counsellor when it all happened. "Don't feel obligated to talk though, really you don't even have to show up again." She remarked, biting into her dry doughnut and choking it down with the coffee she'd put entirely too much cream into. "But if you do keep coming back I'd be interested to know more about you, you have an aura that just says ask me about my hobbies." She joked.

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Monty nodded. It seemed somehow impolite to offer more in the way of condolences. Michelle was frank about her loss; clearly, this was how she preferred to deal with her own grief, and Monty could respect that even if he couldn't fully understand it. "Yes, that's true," he agreed, thinking back over the last week. Since his grandchildren had gone back to Hogwarts, he'd only left the house twice: once to buy groceries, and a second time to attend this meeting. He felt himself becoming isolated again - an old, familiar, almost comfortable feeling - and it took every effort not to indulge himself in the desire to bolt the door, close the curtains, and pretend the world outside did not exist.

"No, I will," he said, decisively. "I will. You're right. Something to come out for, isn't it? And, well, I do feel less alone." That wasn't always a pleasant feeling, but it was good for him all the same. He smiled softly. "Ah. You must have an aura that says, 'I like to be bored to tears'. I'm an engineer, I suppose. Inventor? Engineer. Less pretentious. Very boring, in either case." Not to him, but he'd stopped enthusing to others about his hobby ever since he'd actually put a man to sleep talking about tension sheaves. Anyway, he hadn't set foot in his workshop for a long time. He couldn't bear to see Saveli's clock sitting on the table. The one he hadn't quite finished...

"Are you an artist?" he asked suddenly. "Sorry - I don't know why I said that."