Guilt

The front door wasn’t locked when Matt turned the doorknob to open it. He thought that maybe Julianne had received his call and decided to just unlock the door to let him in and spare her the cost of paying for a new window. He hadn’t been bluffing when he threatened to break in. He knew this amount of worry he felt over Julianne wasn’t natural, but for some reason, he felt as though something bad might happen to Julianne if he didn’t keep a close eye on her. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he felt this way; Julianne was depressed, no doubt about it, and obviously still grieving over the death of her husband, but it wasn’t because of that that Matt worried about her.

Matt didn’t call out Julianne’s name as he stepped through her living room towards the kitchen. He knew she wouldn’t answer if he did. From the living room, he could see the pantry door hanging open. But when he stepped into the kitchen and peered into the dark pantry, he couldn’t see Julianne in there. The floor was littered with cans and boxes; there were barely any cans or boxes left on the shelves. Matt through briefly back on the day he’d come to Julianne’s house to find it in absolute chaos. Had her guilt and depression bent her too far until she snapped? Behind his eyes, he could see Julianne, her chocolate eyes narrowed as she stabbed the boxes and cans through with her arms, sweeping them off the shelves onto the floor. It didn’t seem to fit. Matt blinked and stepped out of the pantry.

Several of the cabinet doors hung open. As Matt stepped forward to slide them shut, glass crunched underneath his foot. He looked down and lifted his foot, puzzled to see a shard of glass underneath the sole of his shoe. A puddle of water pooled at the foot of the sink. Had Julianne dropped her glass? If so, what was the cause?

Strangely enough, Matt found Julianne upstairs in one of the hall closets, curled up into a tight ball with her face tucked into her knees. She looked ten years old, hiding herself away when an older sibling forced her to cry liquid crystals. Julianne raised her head and looked up at Matt out of tear-dropped eyes. Two tear stains were carved into her cheeks, paling her skin. She looked crazed and terrified. It made zero sense to Matt.

“Julianne, what’s wrong?” Matt asked, crouching next to Julianne and brushing his palm across her cheek to smear away the tears.

“He was slamming doors. He wouldn’t stop,” Julianne whispered. She sounded like a young girl telling her father about the monster in her closet who planned to eat her up one of these nights. One quick gulp, and she’d be gone forever.

“Who?” Matt asked with a frown, shooting a glance around the hallway.

“K—Kelly,” Julianne’s voice tripped over Kelly’s name.

“Okay,” Matt answered slowly. Last time he’d checked, Kelly was quite dead, and had been so for a very long time.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Julianne snapped, her voice tipping up several notches in the volume department.

“Well...You know...Um...” Matt stuttered, knowing Julianne wouldn’t like to hear his truthful answer. Julianne’s crazed brown eyes narrowed, and for a moment he glimpsed the sad, but normal, Julianne he normally saw in her eyes. The truth sprouted suddenly from his lips. “No.”

“I don’t care! I’m not lying! I’m not crazy! I’m not crazy!” Julianne yelled. As she continued to ramble, her voice grew in octaves and volume until she reached a mild level of hysteria. The crazy exploded in her chocolate brown eyes, and Matt couldn’t find one hint of familiarity in them. It was like Julianne was a different person—someone who needed to be strapped to her bed and tied into a strait jacket day in and day out. Something inside her had finally snapped from the pressure, and Matt figured it had something to do with their kiss.

Julianne continued to yell, her pitch getting higher and higher until eventually only organisms with more sensitive ears would be able to hear her. Matt didn’t want to yell over her, so he just jerked out a hand and pressed it hard over Julianne’s mouth.

She instantly drew back from Matt’s hand in an instinctive, jerky motion. Matt’s hand followed her motion, however, and Julianne only succeeded in clonking herself on the head against the back wall of the closet. She made no other attempt to remove his hand. The silence buzzed in Matt’s ears as a tear dripped out of each of Julianne’s eyes, taking the crazed, demented look with them. Before he could withdraw his hand, Julianne stuck out her tongue and childishly licked up the length of Matt’s palm.

He pulled a face and jerked his hand just as quickly back from her face, wiping his palm on his jeans. When he looked back up at Julianne, it was to find her grinning—well, not really grinning, but both corners of her mouth hooked upwards and her eyes softened the way they always did whenever she was happy or amused. Matt just shook his head and straightened up, extending both hands to aid Julianne. She accepted them and allowed Matt to pull her to her feet.

“Ice cream?” Matt asked, wrapping an arm around Julianne’s shoulders. He felt her move infinitesimally closer.

“Yes, please,” Julianne answered. “But let’s go to Culver’s. I can’t stand being in this house right now.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Matt agreed and helped Julianne down the stairs.

{*****}

“Julianne, what was that back at your house?” Matt asked as they sat outside of Culver’s. A blue umbrella with Culver’s stamped on the top in white lettering hung over their round table, but it did no good with the position of the sun. The sunlight still splashed across more than half of their bodies; the umbrella seemed only able to shield their faces.

“I really rather not talk about it,” Julianne answered, stirring her ice cream vigorously in its plastic bowl. “You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

“Julianne, I’m just finding it very difficult to believe that your dead husband was slamming all the fucking doors in your house!” Matt snapped. Julianne didn’t respond with hurt; she simply looked a little pissed off. Her head jerked in what might have been a defiant shake of her head, and a thick lock of her red hair fell down across her shoulder.

“Well, then how in the hell do you expect me to tell you about it, if you’re just going to say ‘Oh, well, your husband’s dead and you’re psycho, so let me call those men in white coats and we’ll get you fixed up right away!’” Julianne snapped, her voice deepening in imitation of Matt’s. “Yeah fucking right.”

“Julianne, I’m just...worried about you,” Matt said, his voice softening. In turn, the hard look in Julianne’s eyes softened slightly. “I think your husband’s death has affected you much more than you realize. I think you need professional help.”

Matt expected to be met with angry words upon mentioning a professional, but instead, Julianne denied anything being wrong.

“There is nothing wrong with me,” she insisted. “I am mourning, that’s all. I’ve lost someone very dear to me, and I miss that person a lot, and it’s normal for me to act this way.”

“Sure, for the first month or so,” Matt answered, struggling to keep his voice soft, “but it’s been over a year, Julianne. By now, you should have moved on. It’s okay to remember Kelly, but you have to let go some time. Otherwise, you’re just hurting yourself.”

“There’s nothing wrong,” Julianne insisted. “Mourning is healthy. I am healthy. I am fine. I will be okay. So, please stop butting in and let me handle this myself. I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Matt agreed, noticing that crazed look in Julianne’s eyes. He decided to just drop the subject for the moment, not wanting to distress the poor girl further.