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A Rude Awakening

The call came at an ungodly hour in the dark-times of night. Jonathan rolled over in his twin sized mattress and gazed bleary-eyed towards the desk where his phone continued to buzz and jingle gaily next to the alarm clock that read 3:05 AM in blaring red. Wondering just who the hell could possibly be calling at this time of night and for what reason, Jonathan reached over to answer his phone before it awoke his roommate who as of now lay unbothered in his bed on the other side of the room.

He picked up the phone and after reading the caller ID swiped to answer the call hastily, slapping his tail against the bed and wall. "Hello?"

After an audible intake of breath, his father's voice came from the other line. "Your mother is dead, Jonathan."

Jonathan was silent for a moment, his sleep-addled mind reeling, before his father called his name to regain his attention. "What? Are you serious?"

He could almost hear his father's exasperation in the sigh that came as he replied, the 'Why must you question everything I tell you?' in his deep but smooth mastiff voice, "Yes, Jonathan. It was... very sudden, and as of right now, we don't know what happened. The wake will be on this coming Friday, and her funeral Saturday. I'll be expecting you here by Thursday night." Jonathan's father hung up the phone and left him to ruminate their brief conversation while sitting in the dark. Of course his father was serious about this, like everything else. Nothing was worth playing around to him, but Jonathan found he agreed on this particular topic.

It was, according to a quick glance at the alarm clock, 3:09 on Monday morning. That left him two and a half days to send emails to his professors and coaches. He could probably still go to class today, and report to his professors there, so as not to get farther behind than needed. He'd need to leave around two o'clock Thursday afternoon in order to make it home with good time.

Jonathan's mind reeled, and he could feel the beginnings of a migraine forming. He lay back in his too-small, standard school issued bed and actually began to ruminate on the conversation. Mother was dead, even though they had just talked on the phone a week and a half ago. He turned to lay on his side and face the wall so that he could attempt to sleep.

Sleep didn't come to Jonathan until 5:45. Instead he lay in bed as he was wracked with what he hoped were quiet sobs.

Jonathan was twenty minutes away from his father's house in Costa Vidalia on Thursday afternoon, and he was still having a hard time coming to terms with the reason he was coming home. Throughout the week professors, friends, and acquaintances had offered their condolences; Jonathan had accepted all of it as gracefully as he could. He'd been pardoned from classes halfway through Tuesday, he'd simply used his time off to rest and gather himself for the upcoming funeral and dealings with his family and his father.

He pulled into the driveway behind multiple other vehicles, some he recognized and others he didn't, probably belonging to friends and relatives visiting his father. Taking a breath, Jonathan put his black Hummer in park and prepared to go inside. He took another, deeper breath. He exhaled. He sobbed.

After a few minutes, the big mastiff collected himself enough to exit his car, and stepped out of the truck, grabbing his luggage and into the late afternoon mid-fall chill. As he walked up the drive and walkway to the front door Jonathan looked at the seasonal flowers his mother had for years toiled over at the beginning of every spring to nurture; the royal jewel-like Adonides, ivory hyacinths, and the flaming chrysanthemums which were her favorite. He wistfully remembered the pride with which she would pour her wine after an afternoon pruning her plants. As he came to the door, he took another calming breath and rang the doorbell before entering.

Upon entering his house, Jonathan was faced with people of varying species having conversations of various types ranging from fond memories to outright weeping and consolations, happening between family members and friends of his parents that he'd grown up with. These people were apparently scattered about the house, taking up places on the two sofas in the living room, standing in groups in entryways, or migrating through the house together.

An older leopardess was the first to notice Jonathan's entrance. "Natty!" She called, getting Jonathan's attention as well as that of most other people in the room as she walked over to him by the door. "How are you, Natty, are you doing okay?" The shorter feline pulled him into her buxom embrace and rocked him from side to side, the way she would with him when he was younger.

Jonathan nodded affirming her statement, and while doing so attempted to pry himself free of her embrace. "I'm... Yeah, I'm alright. I don't know much, yet. Dad hasn't really talked to me too much."

"Oh, I understand, love. You should go see him. I believe he's in the kitchen with your uncle. You're not a kid anymore, Natty, don't let old Matthew push you out now," The leopardess patted him on his bum at this. "Now go, be strong for Aunt Odessa!"

Nodding his thanks for the encouragement, the large mastiff lumbered off in search of his father. Jonathan made his way through the living room, stopped often by other family friends offering condolences and various assurances in attempts to comfort him. He would nod to each one, shake paws if needed, get pulled into hugs. Soon, he entered the kitchen, which was where Jonathan found his father and uncle, as well as a number of other people going through the food set out on the countertops. After watching his father and uncle Jasper for a few brief moments, he harrumphed loudly to catch their attention.

The conversation stopped, his mother's brother and his father turned to look at him, dark blue and vibrant green eyes meeting his. "Hey there, Natty. How're ya holdin up?" his uncle said with sadness creasing his face, while Jonathan's father stood quietly.

Jonathan shrugged. "I'm alright. Missed practice, and a game, but coach says it'll be fine. Classes are okay. Class registration's coming up in a week."

Jasper stepped forward and hugged his nephew, giving him a tight squeeze. "I'm glad you're holding up well, kid, your mom would be proud, ya know."

As his uncle let him go and they split apart, Jonathan's father stepped forward and looked at him with hard eyes before addressing him seriously.

"Jonathan, take your bags to your room, there's no reason for you to be dragging that through the house. Hurry back down, there's important business we need to talk about when the guests leave."

Beside him, Jasper sighed, but Jonathan nodded. He knew his father, straight to business as usual. "Yes, sir." With a wave and nod of acknowledgement to his uncle, Jonathan shouldered his bag and walked through to the other side of the kitchen where it opened up to the back hallway, which led horizontally past the stairway to the upper floor.

At the end of the hallway Jonathan found himself in his bedroom. Closing the door and sitting his backpack on the bed, he sighed. Looking around, everything was the same as he had left it three months prior when he had returned to Fairmont University for his senior year. The photos from some of his high school hockey games still hung on the wall, the photo of himself and that coyote girl, Annett, at prom. The photo depicting him dancing with his mother at their family reunion 4 years ago, his cousin Luis standing awkwardly in the background.

Looking away, Jonathan decided he'd best head back out to his father to see what he wanted to talk about. As he stood before his closed door, paw on the knob, he looked at himself in the full size mirror built into the back of it. Although they were nothing alike personality-wise, in appearance he looked like a mirror image of his father, despite standing four inches taller than him at six-feet-three. They shared the same cinnamon brown fur and black muzzles as well as the stern set of their eyes, though Jonathan's were the same dark blue shared between his mother and her siblings, not his father's forest green. After a moment, the mastiff broke his reverie and sighed. Taking a breath, Jonathan shook his head and walked back out to talk to his father.

Upon returning to the kitchen, Jonathan's father directed him around the house, instructing him to talk to any of the non-familial visitors sending their condolences and thank them for their support. When the majority of mourning friends and family had left hours later, (Odessa and Jasper apparently intended to spend the night in the guest room), Jonathan found himself being pulled into his father's office.

His father closed the door behind them quietly before taking his seat at the large oak desk that took up a large portion of the room. It'd probably been years since Jonathan had been in the room, and he took the brief moments before his dad spoke to look around. On the desk sat a set of photographs beside an old desktop; a family photo with his mother, father and himself smiling happily; one of his mother and father on their 20th anniversary; a photo of his father in his judge's robes, the stern gaze the old mastiff wore glaring out at him; and finally a photo of himself and his father at his high school graduation.

At his father's deep harrumph, Jonathan's attention snapped to the large mastiff, sitting in his upright oak chair. His dad had removed his glasses and his green eyes were watching his son thoughtfully. When he noticed he'd garnered his son's attention, he began to speak slowly, as if he were contemplating the weight of his words as he said them.

"Your mother died of acute liver failure, Jonathan." The older mastiff stated, cutting to the matter at hand as if it were a porterhouse steak. "You know very well how much she enjoyed her alcohol."

Jonathan nodded at his father's words, knowing them to be true. Julianne Vandross could always be found with a glass of alcohol if there was anything slightly in need of celebrating; she wasn't even a fan of most sports, but would often watch various games just for the excuse. Jonathan might not have known exactly what acute liver failure was, but he knew enough about the context to piece it together.

His father continued. "We.... Your mother doesn't have a will. I'd been trying to get her to let me work on one for her, but she put it off. She truly believed she had plenty of time." Nat's father sighed, rubbing his temples with one paw. "She was only forty-six; I'd finally gotten her to agree to do one on her fiftieth...."

Jonathan interrupted, growing impatient with the older mastiff's uncharacteristic rambling. "So what? What does that mean?"

His father scowled at him, and Jonathan settled himself in the silence before he spoke again. "That means I'm in charge of your mother's finances, Jonathan. And you and I are in need of a talk that has been a long time coming."

Jonathan frowned, but nodded, waiting for his father to continue, when there was a loud knocking at the office door that startled the two large canines from their tense silence. The older canine paused his speech and looked away from his son to the door, rubbing his temples as he replaced his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

The younger mastiff glanced from the door to his father, who nodded, and opened the door to where his uncle stood waiting with a paw poised to knock again.

Jonathan looked at the taller man, confused. "Hey, Uncle, I thought you were going to bed? Isn't Aunt Odessa waiting for you?"

"Oh, Nat! I was just hoping to have a conversation with Matthew, if that's okay?" The slightly taller canine explained as he peered past Jonathan's head. "You should probably get to bed anyway, right? The wake's tomorrow."

Jonathan turned to look at his father as he moved aside, who nodded as he sat watching Jasper enter the room. Acknowledging his permission, Jonathan nodded to his father, and pat his uncle on the shoulder before turning to leave. "Good night guys. I'll see you in the morning."

"Shut the door behind you, Jonathan." Came his father's voice. Obediently, the dog pulled the door closed behind him.

Jonathan's paw clutched the doorknob, curiosity tingling the edge of his mind. He wondered what his father had wanted to tell him, and what his father and uncle had to talk about that was so private it needed to be done at such an hour.

He inhaled deeply and sighed, slowly releasing the door as he turned around. It was more likely that they were grieving or debating the separation Mother's properties. Jonathan shrugged as he made his way downstairs to his bedroom on the main floor of the house. Like his uncle had said, he needed to get to bed; it had been a long day and tomorrow would inevitably be more emotionally exhausting.

Jonathan stood with the rest of the mourning as the pallbearers came to retrieve his mother's coffin. The funeral had proceeded pretty much as he'd expected. His aunt had sobbed almost the entire service, and for the first time in his life he witnessed his uncle cry, though he'd done it much more quietly.

The church was full of people, all friends or family of Julianne Vandross mourning the loss of her. The service had seemed to last forever, between testimonies of Jonathan's mother's life, and the preacher going through the words that were meant to be comforting. The words felt impersonal to Jonathan, he was not consoled by them. The many bright flowers around the church did a better job of abating his grief than the words of the preacher; Jonathan knew how much his mother would fawn over them and study them.

He'd almost broken into tears again as they closed the casket. Everyone in the church watched in mournful silence, save those who were sobbing, as they marched his mother away and when they exited the church people began to mill about.

To his left, Jonathan's father slowly sank into the pew. The older mastiff wore a suit that matched Jonathan's, and the black gown Julianne was being buried in. He held his glasses in one paw, massaging his temples softly. His father had cried for the first time in Jonathan's memory, and before Jonathan could reach out to him, a member of the church had started conversation with him. If there was anything the preacher had said during the service that Jonathan found true, it was that those who mourned had each other.

With a sigh, the mastiff stood and made his way out of the pew. After stepping out into the aisle and beginning to make his way towards the back of the church, Jonathan was met by a large bull who looked at him with deep eyes. He smiled softly, recognizing the bull easily, and the taller man reached out a paw for Jonathan to clasp in his own.

"How are you doing, Nat?" The large bovine asked in his deep but smooth voice, gently shaking Jonathan's paw.

"I'm doing fine, Ellis," Jonathan says, easily getting himself to smile up at the bull. Every time he saw the bull, who had been a good acquaintance of his mother, Jonathan was amazed by how tall he was; it wasn't often he had to look up at someone else even if only slightly. "I'm tired, you know? It was so surprising. But I suppose that's what it's like."

Ellis pat Jonathan's paw softly before releasing it and pushing his hands into the pockets of his well-pressed pants. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It ain't something you can really prepare for, even if you know it's gonna happen. I can only imagine how hard this is to deal with."

"I'm gonna be okay, I think. It's more my dad that I'm worried about, but I'll do my best to make sure he does okay." Jonathan assured the bull, his smile faltering.

"It does look like you're handling it pretty well." Ellis replied, obviously noting the discomfort in Jonathan's face. "On the topic of your father, I'm going talk to him. I'd like to see if he wants me to come by to work on your mother's garden for him."

Jonathan nodded his understanding; Ellis would have been the one to provide all the flowers, given he owned the flower shop Julianne frequented for all of her floral needs. "I'm gonna head outside to wait to head to the cemetery. Can you let Dad know where I am?"

When the large dog prepared to walk away, Ellis caught his shoulder, turning him back to face him. "I'll let him know, but Jonathan..." The bull takes a deep breath, huffing through his mouth and letting out a moo that tapers into an embarrassed huff as he gathers the attention of a few people nearby.

Ellis pulls out his phone. "If you need someone to talk to, I'm around, you know? Your mother wouldn't want you to be alone. If you need me, you can call, and we can go out to eat and talk."

"Thank you, Ellis. I appreciate it." Jonathan nodded his agreement, though he had no intention of using the number. If there was anyone he'd be calling it'd be his cousin, who apparently hadn't been able to make it.

As he spoke his thanks, the bull placed a heavy hand onto Jonathan's shoulder and smiled down at him, apparently satisfied with that. "I'm glad I can be of help, Jonathan. I really hope you'll be alright."

When the bull had finally turned to go, Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief. His mother's acquaintance had always been kind to him whenever they met and he appreciated it, but he didn't know a lot about him aside from the obvious fact that he owned the town's only flower shop and as such was why the bull and Jonathan's mother knew each other as well as they did. Jonathan sighed and made his way outside the church. Some people are just nice, he supposed.

When he stepped outside into the unseasonably bright sun, Jonathan frowned, his eyes squinting. It wasn't warm, the chill of the season remained, but the sun itself took the mastiff by surprise. Looking around, he found he would have preferred it to have rained. That way it would not feel as if the heavens were rejoicing in their new member while those on earth mourned their loss.

Jonathan stepped out into the lot and stood among the vehicles parked waiting for their owners to exit the church. Soon they would be leaving to head to the cemetery to say their final goodbyes before instilling Julianne Vandross in her final resting place. Jonathan dreaded it, but he knew the moment was approaching. The mastiff relished the time he had alone in the cool air, watching the clouds and trying to keep himself from reminiscing.

After only minutes of solitude, mourners began to trickle out of the church and make their ways to their vehicles. The immediate family gathered around a large black limousine and began to pile their way inside. While it was intended to be spacious, the limo just managed to be enough for Jonathan's most immediate family members. When the mastiff settled in, he found himself seated next to the sardine-packed Odessa, with his rather uncomfortable-looking father on her other side.

The atmosphere during the ride to the cemetery was charged with tension. Odessa attempted conversation with her husband across from her, and failing, tried with Jonathan's father. When the older mastiff grimaced at her words, the leopardess lay her head back against the cushion and closed her eyes. When Jonathan grasped her much smaller paw in his own and turned to gaze out the window, he felt more than her pair of feline eyes shift to watch him.

The twenty minute drive to the cemetery passed uneventfully, if not tensionless. When Jonathan climbed out of the limo at the destination with his family, he could feel the air lighten at the satisfaction having of space. Unfortunately, the brief sense of relief did not survive the arrival of other cars unloading their passengers into the autumn chill.

The winding march through the rows of black and white stone headstones towards the slot of earth where Julianne would be buried was heavy with the weight of what was approaching.

Not many spoke; those who did whispered quickly back and forth. The walk was quicker than Jonathan would have liked; he was soon standing with his father to his left in a large circle around the plot in the ground where his mother would be instilled with a headstone a bit beyond it marked with her name and dates, 1968-2014. He glanced around, noticing the red-bronze chrysanthemums that lay carefully arranged on a podium at the head of the large hole.

When everyone was settled around the plot in the ground, the reverend from the church stepped forward and three larger men took their places at each corner of the coffin sitting on its stand. As the reverend began to speak, the men began to heft ropes under the coffin that Jonathan hadn't noticed before and bodily maneuver it into the hole.

The reverend droned on as Jonathan's mother was lowered into her grave, but the mastiff had tuned him out; instead he dutifully watched Julianne's journey into her resting place. When she was settled in, he swept his eyes around the circle surrounding the grave to take in familiar faces belonging to distant cousins or family acquaintances, some of which were contorted in displays of grief.

The sound of his father's voice beginning to pray snapped Jonathan attention back to the ending burial ceremony. The large mastiff bowed his head hastily, listening to the deep voice of his father in prayer.

"Father God in heaven," his father began in his stern, carrying voice. "We are here to thank you for the life you have given us, and ask you give this woman, my wife, safe passage into the loving embrace of your arms."

Memories flooded Jonathan's mind as his father spoke what he knew were hard-pressed farewells. The warmth of his mother's embrace.

His father's voice continued in the hard, authoritative resonance that Jonathan imagined he used in court, "I was blessed with twenty-two years with this woman. Some of you lived your entire lives with her." Jonathan's own twenty-one years on earth were thanks to her, and all made great because of her.

"She supported us when we needed her, would do her best to help us all, and so we thank you for her." Her whispers of encouragement before a game. Her prying interest into his worries and hopes and doubts.

"No matter what the issue, she was there for us." His father continued, and to Jonathan's surprise, he could hear the waver in his father's resonant voice. "And now we will be here for each other. We will mourn together, but we will move on in her memory. She loved us, and we love her. We thank you for your gift of life, dear Lord. In Jesus' name I pray, amen."

Jonathan did not immediately join in the joint 'Amen' of his fellows due to the fact that at some point during his father's surprisingly short farewell, he had begun to cry. As he croaked out his own amen from his tightened throat, the mastiff felt someone grip his paw. Looking to his side, he locked eyes with Odessa, who nodded her head solemnly and smiled.

The circle around the hole in the ground began to move, starting with Jonathan's father. He watched as his dad moved to the podium, took one of the bronze flowers laying there and walked to the side of the open grave and paused briefly before dropping the chrysanthemum onto the coffin below. The leopard at his elbow lightly nudged Jonathan, catching his attention to signal his turn.

Jonathan hesitantly approached the podium and gently picked up one of the flowers. His tears had stopped, but he was in no way sure if he was actually ready to say goodbye as he moved slowly towards the open grave. He could feel the eyes of his family watching him and before he knew it, he was standing by the open plot where his mother rested.

The large mastiff stood there for a moment, unable to think of any sort of goodbye, but knowing he had to say something. Eventually, he decided on something short and let go of the fiery chrysanthemum. "Bye, Mom. I'm so sorry."

Quickly, he made his way to rejoin the circle and watched as others did the same. It didn't take long before all the flowers were gone and the circle of mourning were all standing in somber quiet, taking time to say their personal goodbyes as a group.

Eventually, people began to break away from the circle and depart to their cars. Jonathan's father had mentioned earlier in the day that Odessa and Jasper would be staying with them another night before going to their own home in Ebony Cove, the small town forty minutes away. The same group as before packed into the limousine, and Jonathan found himself squished beside Odessa once again. He was sure she heard him whisper goodbye as the limo pulled away; the leopardess took his large paw in hers and held it in silence the entire drive.

The events of the evening passed in a blur for Jonathan, the large dinner and the following mixed ensemble of mourning and cheerful reminiscing. Eventually people began to trickle out of the house, begging others to stay in touch, patting Jonathan and his father on the back or shaking paws as they left. Before long the house was empty of visitors, Jonathan cleaning up with Odessa in relative quiet while Jasper took garbage bags outside to the trash. The menial work felt good to Jonathan, washing dishes was mindless work that kept him doing something and away from his bedroom and the photos sitting on the wall.

Too soon it seemed, Jonathan was broken away from the thoughtless monotony by a large and heavy paw resting on his shoulder. The tall mastiff started, almost dropping the plate Odessa had just passed him, but was calmed minutely as he turned around to his father's stern-set face.

"Hey, Dad, what's up?" He asked, slightly perturbed by his father's silent approach.

The older mastiff offered a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as he addressed Odessa on Jonathan's other side. "Excuse me, Odessa, but I need to have a bit of a word with my son. Do you think you could handle finishing up here by yourself?"

Jonathan recognized the tone of voice that didn't invite question, but to Odessa's credit, she seemed to be aware his father's seriousness and nodded her head. "It's not a problem at all, we were just about done anyway." She answered, despite the literal pile of cutlery and plates in the sink in front of her. "I'll head on to bed when I'm finished here."

Matthew's smiled once more before turning around and heading to his office. "Come along, Jonathan. We have a lot to talk about."

Odessa smiled encouragingly when Jonathan looked to her before leaving; she had everything under control, it was best to see what his father needed. He nodded his head and murmured a good-night before following his father upstairs to his office.

Closing the door behind himself, Jonathan watched as his father settled behind his large desk, glancing at the many photographs similar to those in his room that sat on it. Breaking his glance away from the photos, the large mastiff sat across from his father in one of the expensive oaken chairs. The two canines sat in silence for what felt like minutes, Matthew examining his son and Jonathan doing his best not to show his discomfort. Eventually, the older mastiff addressed his son.

"Your mother and I had been talking for a while, trying to figure out how to get through to you. We aren't always going to be here for you." Jonathan's father took a deep breath, removing his glasses to look at him through his hard, green eyes. "Your mother is no longer here to spoil you, Jonathan. And I've come to an ultimatum, because you have to learn."

Jonathan frowned, not sure where his father was going with this, and very sure he wouldn't like where it lead. "Dad, I haven't done anything wrong; my classes are going fine, I have B's in most of them. Hockey is going well too!" He hated the way his voice rose defensively, as if he were a whining pup.

Matthew sighed as he again adjusted his glasses to rest on the bridge of his nose. "That's my entire point, Jonathan. You're juggling B's and C's. You've been playing hockey since high school, and to what point? It's not going to lead to anything, Jonathan; you're a senior and you don't know what you're doing after college. I can't continue to support you when you aren't doing anything to get yourself onto your own two feet. You're my son, and I love you more than the world, but you have to do something for yourself."

Jonathan groaned loudly; he should have known what this would be about, and his father had chosen an awful time to bring up this conversation. Why did it have to be now when they were meant to be mourning together? "Look, Dad, I'm doing what I can; won't it be great if I do get drafted? And even if I don't, I'll be able to get a job, it doesn't really matter what in. What would you have me do?"

His father cleared his voice, and here Jonathan knew his father would make his point. "It's not what you do, at this point. I mentioned my ultimatum, and here it is: I'm cutting you off."