The Illusion of Separation

I sat on the couch as Carter paced back and forth in the living room. He always paced when something bad happened, like he could just walk out his emotions, or the thing that had happened. I could see that he was trying not to cry in front of me, but it was really hard for him, and every few seconds he'd wipe away a tear, not delicate like ladies in dresses at memorial services did but roughly, like he was trying not only to scrub away the tear but the patch of skin on his face it had touched as well.

Me? Well, I was trying to comprehend what had just gone on. Chris was dead, I knew that much. I'd cried in Carter's arms for at least ten minutes and it was only because I was still halfway in shock that I wasn't crying as hard right now. Chris...dead? How could someone I knew so well be...dead? That just didn't happen to friends, especially friends that were teenagers.

I'd asked Carter to tell me what happened, the entire story, or at least as much as he knew. He told me that Chris had started the walk to his house last night when he left my house. It had been dark, but that hadn't really fazed him because he was always sneaking around at night just to try and see if he would get caught. He'd made it all the way down to where the police car and tape had been stationed and then a car had come barreling along, the driver probably drunk, without the lights on. It hadn't been a concern of Chris's, except that the car was moving kind of fast, until it turned at a sharp angle and slammed right into him. The details were a bit fuzzy there since no one had been there -- they'd only discovered it was a car because of the nature of the injuries, and from there it was mostly a guessing game. We knew that the guy had to have been drunk because Chris hadn't left my house high and he'd been completely in control of his actions. He was pretty careful on those back roads, too, at least at night when he couldn't see much. During the day he did things like sitting out in the center of the street on the painted white lines just to see what happened when a car came down the road.

When the ambulance had arrived, he'd been breathing but just barely. I must have been asleep and not heard the sirens, which added to the overwhelming sadness that was already making it feel like my heart was at the center of the earth. Maybe if I had been there he would have made it. Maybe...but no. The way Carter was telling me the report, Chris had been so close to death right then that it wouldn't have mattered. Still, I was fucking pissed that I hadn't been there to say goodbye. Not even pissed. There wasn't a word for it. It was half the reason that I'd just now started to cry again, because I knew that Chris was never coming back and I hadn't even gotten to say goodbye. We were in love. This kind of thing just wasn't supposed to happen. It seemed like I was saying that to myself a lot, that it never should have happened, but it was true. Then again, the relatives of victims I'd seen in the newspaper from time to time probably felt the same way.

The car had smashed his ribs in and one of them had punctured his heart. Carter had been reluctant to tell me, but I finally wormed it out of him that it was a very painful death. Essentially he lay there and bled to death from the inside until his body couldn't take it anymore. He'd probably choked on his own blood. I was a little regretful about asking Carter now, mostly because I would try to picture Chris the night before when he had been in my bed, so close to me I could feel our hearts beating together, and then I would see blood seeping out of his mouth and his eyes stare at me blankly. It was awful. Just that thought alone would send me into a sobbing fest again.

We were there in Carter's living room for a half hour, me crying every few minutes and him pacing and talking to himself, half-cursing and half-ranting. By the end of the half hour, I figured I would still be crying, but everything just dried up like I was some insensitive bitch that didn't give a fuck that her boyfriend had just died. I knew I should be crying. I knew I wanted to cry. But for some reason, nothing was coming out. It was like when I'd seen Christofer's name in the newspaper and just kind of laughed it off and denied it even happened. My body simply didn't want to cry.

"I can't believe this," Carter said for about the fiftieth time today. And it was true. It was way hard to believe even though all the evidence pointed to the fact that Chris was dead. Neither of us wanted to accept it, and we were being forced to which pissed us off. Carter and I were the same in a lot of ways; I was more like him than I was like Chris. We were both normal, so to speak. Chris was the one who was always out there and doing things that made people stare. Carter and I were the ones who thought he was hilarious but at the same time were secretly embarrassed when he drew attention to us in public, although we thrived on it when it did happen. "This is so wrong. This shouldn't be happening. Hannah, tell me it's not happening."

I came over to him and hugged him tight again. His arms folded around me and pressed me tight to him, my face in his chest. It would be awkward if my relationship with Chris hadn't been as set in stone as it had been--

Oh god, I was beginning to refer to everything about him in the past tense. I couldn't do that. I just couldn't. But in a way, that was denying reality and I couldn't do that or it would hurt me even more in the long run. I'd have to wake up again and realize that yes, Chris was dead, and he was never going to come back. I'd already had to wake up to that reality once. I didn't need to make myself relive it.

"He..." I started, then trailed off. Carter understood. He always understood. He threaded his fingers through my hair and I could feel a few of his tears against the top of my head. Carter never cried, and it was horrible seeing him do it. Even more horrible when I wasn't crying at all anymore.

"Is there gonna be a funeral?" I asked quietly.

"Probably. I don't wanna go, though."

"Yeah, me neither. Chris hates funerals."

There. Present tense again. Chris hates funerals because he says that they're way too sad and he has this urge to be happy when everyone else is sad because he tells us that someone has to be there cheering everyone up. If Chris ever attended a funeral, he would probably dress in that way he did of not matching at all yet somehow matching by doing that, and he'd have his guitar. He'd probably end up doing something like sitting on the casket and singing about how we should all love each other. That's what makes Chris Chris.

Yeah, present tense. Yes, he was dead, but that didn't mean we had to talk about him like that. Besides, I always hated when people suddenly switched to past tense, like all of a sudden the world had changed and if they talked about the person in the present tense, it would be disrespectful or something.

"Maybe we should go. I mean, it's Chris's funeral. Chris."

"Yeah," I said. "Maybe. But...wait, my dad."

"What about him?"

"He didn't want Chris and me together. He hates Chris. We aren't supposed to be together and if he finds out I'm still hanging out with you guys, he's gonna whip my ass. That includes a funeral. He doesn't know we're as close as we are. Thinks I just dropped you guys like...I don't know. Anyway, he doesn't think we're even friends anymore. So if I go to the funeral..."

Carter shook his head. "Jesus Christ, Hannah. I know he doesn't like us, but he won't even let you go to a funeral for one of your 'ex-friends'?"

"You know my dad," I said meaningfully.

"Shit. You're probably right." My dad came across as a selfish bastard and Carter knew it just as well as Chris and I did. You know the part in people that makes them do things they wouldn't normally do out of compassion for other people when something horrible happens to them? Like if someone in the family dies and the mom or dad calls a family member who's been excommunicated to come to the funeral and to become part of the family again? Yeah, my dad doesn't have that.

"So we should stay home."

"Well...we should probably talk to Chris's mom or something. See what she thinks. See if they're even having a funeral."

"Oh," I realized, "she doesn't like them either. Huh."

It amazed me that we were carrying on a conversation like this, and not only that, but one about a person that had meant so very much to us that had just died. Maybe he was in the same limbo of feelings that I was, too, and we could only really survive and move forward by pretending everything was fine to each other. "Well," I finally said, "we should get going. I have the day off. Let's go to Chris's house and see what his mom and dad think."

Oh, boy. I never had liked Chris's dad. Maybe it was just because my own dad had formed my opinion of all fathers, but I could swear Chris's dad hated me just because I was Chris's girlfriend and had a crazy dad. Chris's parents weren't really getting along too well nowadays. I hoped they weren't getting a divorce -- that would kill Chris.

Kill Chris.

Fuck. I bit my lip so hard it bled to keep it from trembling and followed Carter out to the car.

"Hannah."

"Hm?" I asked, turning to Carter.

He looked strangely at me. "What? I didn't say anything."

"Oh." I sighed as we got into the car and closed the door behind me. I must be hearing things. Not a surprise, with the trauma I'd just experienced. "Well, anyway. This is just going to be a shitload of fun, ain't it?"

"You're telling me," he said as we began to pull out of the gravel driveway.

"Hannah? Hannah, hello?"

I turned to Carter again. "What the fuck? I thought you said you didn't say anything."

"I didn't," he repeated, the strange look growing stranger. "Hannah, you don't have your head on straight. You just found out the Chris news. Hell, even I'm seeing stuff that isn't there and hallucinating and I didn't get any sleep at all last night." He pointed meaningfully to the bags under his eyes. "You can take a nap at Chris's house if you want. I'll talk with his parents. I'm sure he wants you to be well-rested, especially in his room." He gave me a soft smile and squeezed my shoulder.

A hand touched my other shoulder. I swear it did. But when I turned, there was nothing there. A sigh echoed through the car, one I was sure came from Carter at first.

But then I went over it again in my head.

It was Chris's sigh.

...Lord, I really did need sleep.