Follow You Down
New Assignment
Brian glared at the computer screen in front of him. The chief had sent him an email, asking him to cover a funeral. In other words he wanted him to do an obituary. It had been two years since he’d started at the Littleton Times and it had been two years since he’d written an obituary. Apparently though this man had served overseas and been a hero. The chief wanted the best to write this and told Brian he was the best. With a small groan, Brian shut off his PC and stood. He grabbed his suit jacket and stuffed a small notebook into his pocket.
It didn’t take long for him to find the small church. People were still shuffling in. The pews were filled with people, some crying, some just looking solemn, and some talking quietly amongst themselves. It was a truly depressing scene. Brian slipped into one of the back pews and pulled out his note pad. Maybe this was more than an obit, but he still didn’t like covering a funeral.
He watched the people and wrote his observations. It was obvious this man, whoever he was, had been well loved. The pen stopped writing when he saw her. Hand wrapped tightly around his arm, the way her mascara kept running despite her wiping at it every few seconds. He watched as she leaned forward over the closed casket and placed a kiss where the head was supposed to be. The man she was with wrapped a comforting arm around her. When she was alone, he’d talk to her. Something about her, drew him in.
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Jessica buried her head in his side. She didn’t want to hear what the pastor had to say. Michael had promised marriage once he was done with his tour in Iraq; now all those dreams of a future together had vanished.
Charlie wrapped an arm tightly around her. The usually vibrant girl now seemed so fragile. The pastor talked of Michael’s life and about how he was loved. Charlie knew that the man couldn’t have any idea how much Michael had been loved. Jessica would’ve given up her own life to save him if she could. As the grip on his hand tightened he leaned his head down and placed a kiss to the top of her hair. He hated to see her this way.
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As the congregation broke apart, Brian stood and waited for whom he assumed was the grieving girlfriend. He wanted to talk to her first.
“I’ll go get the car, Jess.” A man told her before giving her hand a squeeze. He watched as she gave him a small nod before standing by the door, waiting.
“Hi, I wanted to know if I could talk to you.” He said slowly, realizing that pumping the emotional girl probably wasn’t right. He had a job to do though.
She looked over at him with red-rimmed green eyes.
“Who are you?” she questioned, her voice raspy from crying. It made his heart go out to her. He just wanted to reach up and wipe a strand of auburn hair away from her face.
“My name’s Brian. I’m doing a piece for the Littleton Times. I wanted to ask a couple questions about Michael, if you wouldn’t mind answering them.” She smiled the tiniest of smiles.
“Alright.” She sat down in one of the back pews, ready for his questions. He was about to sit down next to her before the sound of a honking horn wafted through the church.
“That’s Charlie. I gotta go, but here,” she handed him her number, “Michael deserves a story about who he was.”
She left him standing there as she walked out to Charlie’s old Pontiac. Brian watched as she got in and then watched the car pull out before stuffing his note pad back in his pocket. Fingering his keys in one hand and her number in another, he walked out to his own car. This was a story he needed to cover.
It didn’t take long for him to find the small church. People were still shuffling in. The pews were filled with people, some crying, some just looking solemn, and some talking quietly amongst themselves. It was a truly depressing scene. Brian slipped into one of the back pews and pulled out his note pad. Maybe this was more than an obit, but he still didn’t like covering a funeral.
He watched the people and wrote his observations. It was obvious this man, whoever he was, had been well loved. The pen stopped writing when he saw her. Hand wrapped tightly around his arm, the way her mascara kept running despite her wiping at it every few seconds. He watched as she leaned forward over the closed casket and placed a kiss where the head was supposed to be. The man she was with wrapped a comforting arm around her. When she was alone, he’d talk to her. Something about her, drew him in.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Jessica buried her head in his side. She didn’t want to hear what the pastor had to say. Michael had promised marriage once he was done with his tour in Iraq; now all those dreams of a future together had vanished.
Charlie wrapped an arm tightly around her. The usually vibrant girl now seemed so fragile. The pastor talked of Michael’s life and about how he was loved. Charlie knew that the man couldn’t have any idea how much Michael had been loved. Jessica would’ve given up her own life to save him if she could. As the grip on his hand tightened he leaned his head down and placed a kiss to the top of her hair. He hated to see her this way.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
As the congregation broke apart, Brian stood and waited for whom he assumed was the grieving girlfriend. He wanted to talk to her first.
“I’ll go get the car, Jess.” A man told her before giving her hand a squeeze. He watched as she gave him a small nod before standing by the door, waiting.
“Hi, I wanted to know if I could talk to you.” He said slowly, realizing that pumping the emotional girl probably wasn’t right. He had a job to do though.
She looked over at him with red-rimmed green eyes.
“Who are you?” she questioned, her voice raspy from crying. It made his heart go out to her. He just wanted to reach up and wipe a strand of auburn hair away from her face.
“My name’s Brian. I’m doing a piece for the Littleton Times. I wanted to ask a couple questions about Michael, if you wouldn’t mind answering them.” She smiled the tiniest of smiles.
“Alright.” She sat down in one of the back pews, ready for his questions. He was about to sit down next to her before the sound of a honking horn wafted through the church.
“That’s Charlie. I gotta go, but here,” she handed him her number, “Michael deserves a story about who he was.”
She left him standing there as she walked out to Charlie’s old Pontiac. Brian watched as she got in and then watched the car pull out before stuffing his note pad back in his pocket. Fingering his keys in one hand and her number in another, he walked out to his own car. This was a story he needed to cover.