They Should've Known

The day was gloomy. The sky was dark with gray clouds, covering every bit of visible blue, the trees were brown and naked, and the grass had lost its brightness. Even the date was gloomy: November 17th, 2009, a Wednesday. There was no special holiday or national event. In the nearly deserted cemetery, life almost seemed black and white.

The girl's clothes matched the grayscale theme. Her jeans were a dull blue, and her pea coat was black and buttoned all the way up to her gray scarf, which seemed identical to her coal gray eyes. Her matching hat hung loosely off her blond hair. It seemed the only trace of color on her body was the rosiness of her cheeks as she shivered, looking down at the grave in front of her. She wasn't surprised when she heard a voice behind her.

"I'm surprised you got out today," he said, coarse from the recent cigarette he had no doubt smoked.

She turned and examined him, taking in his appearance. His eyes were dull and brown, lacking of the previous joy she knew they held, they were set on a strong face, but the strength had faded over time. His clothes also seemed to match the cemetery. He wore a simple flannel shirt and an old pair of jeans, obviously not putting time into his appearance this morning. "I come here every year."

"It's been a long time," he mumbled, taking a step closer and looking at the grave, putting his hands in his pocket.

"Six years."

He sighed, then contradicted himself. "It seems like less time."

The girl breathed in shakily and shook her head. "It seems like forever." The man avoided her eyes when she looked at him. "I miss it."

"I've missed you. We used to be best friends. And now we don't even say hi when we pass each other on the street."

She shrugged. "With a city so big, that isn't that often."

"You know what I mean," he argued monotonously. "What happened?"

She shrugged once again, rubbing her arms in an attempt to ward off the breeze. "You know."

The man shook his head, and let himself change the unfinished subject. "So much can happen in six years."

"So much can happen in six seconds. Someone can be born." She stopped and knelt by the grave, running her hand over the stone. "Someone can die."

He closed his eyes for a moment and tilted his head down in a silent prayer to keep him strong for the coming conversation. "How have you been?"

The woman sighed. "A day doesn't go by that I don't think about you." She looked up at the man and smiled a half hearted smile, although her face was blank and unfocused. "How are you?"

"Missy and I are getting married."

She bit her lip and breathed in deeply. "Congratu—" Her voice cracked before she could finish. She hoped he would understand the point.

"Thank you." He, too, breathed in deeply and looked at the sky. "I honestly miss you."

She frowned. "You know where I am. The moment you want me back is the moment I'll be in your arms."

"It can't be that simple," he replied while he sighed and shook his head.

"I wish we could go back."

"To do what?" he asked harshly. "Watch her die again?"

"Before she died we were happy. We were made for each other, and now—"

"Now you're different. You've been different. I loved you. You made me the man I am right now, but I can't love the girl I hate."

"I want to change back, I want you back." She stopped and pulled out a tissue from her pocket and wiped away a puddle of mascara. "I want me back. I want everything back."

"It doesn't work that way," he said softly, barely loud enough for her to hear over the wind.

"A day doesn't go by that I wish it did. That I don't regret every minute."

"Regretting and wishing won't do shit."

"So what?" She stood up and looked him in the eyes. "So you move on and marry a girl you're not in love with and hope something good will happen?"

He closed his eyes and took a step into her. "Why won't you move on?"

"How can I move on when I'm still in love you?"

He leaned into her lips and kissed her. The kiss was soft and gentle, but meaningless to both parties. "I wish I could make you happy again."

"Wishing won't do shit," she said, pulling away from him and walking away from the grave and to her old black Grand Am.

The man watched her walk away and looked down at the grave. Two months was all she was given. All the time she could have with the world before she was taken away. Two months and she was gone in six seconds.

The woman sat in her car and sobbed silently. She laid her head on the dashboard and closed her eyes. In the darkness, she saw a beautiful six year old girl with a full head of long brown hair and coal gray eyes. Just as she reached out to touch her, blackness swept her away, leaving her just an empty car.

She opened her eyes and reached for a picture in the glove compartment. It was a simple Polaroid, with nothing but a date on it. November 17th, 2003. In it, the two teenagers were smiling. They were only seventeen, but in the picture they looked mature, and like a family. The woman was exhausted and sweaty, and slightly drugged up, but her eyes still lit up brighter than stars in the picture. Her eyes lit up the car, even in the gloomy Wednesday. The man was also vibrant. He was leaning over the hospital bed; his arms wrapped around his life, his love, his family. One arm was draped protectively over her shoulder, and the other was cradling a sleeping baby wrapped in a pink receiving blanket. They were so happy.

Too happy for it to be perfect. Too happy for it to end well. Too happy to have a fairy tale ending.
They should've known.