Scattered

After the services concluded, we all gathered at a now single Moreen’s house for the reception. Her mother had prepared a brief meal and cocktails in honor of her daughter’s dearly departed fiance.

At first the dinner was mostly silent. Everyone just seemed to float around each other barely daring to utter a sentence, as if they were afraid that having an actual conversation would somehow be disrespecting to Sara’s memory. An icy fog had drifted over all of us. Blinded by sadness and yearning for times long past, the party quickly became awkward.

Almost an hour drifted by in that fashion, until the guests finally had enough booze in them to realize that this was one terrible way to celebrate a loved ones life; Sara deserved to be sent of with proper bang. Soon guests, young and old alike, were sitting in a circle drinking toasts and swapping fond memories of our friend. The fog lifted and was replaced by a warm, airy feeling of love and remembrance.

Yet, I still couldn’t shake grief, the longing that ate at my insides. My oldest friend, Moreen, seemed to notice I was hurting and walked over to comfort me.

“Val, I’m so glad you came,” Moreen whispered as she embraced me in a semi-drunken hug. We shared a quiet moment, neither of us speaking, but it was clear we were both wishing the same think. That different circumstances had brought us back into each others lives.

“How are you holding up, sweetie?” I asked after we pulled apart. I noticed that she was still wearing the engagement ring that Sara had given to her last month. The ring I hadn’t even had a chance to see before now.

Moreen simply shrugged, unable to form words. “So, how’s LA treating you?” she changed the subject off herself. It was my turn to shrug.

“It’s good. I like it, I really do. It’s just-” I sighed, feeling the tears well up in my eyes. I blinked a few times to force them back, took a deep breath and began again. “I feel like I’ve missed so much here, you know. Two years is way too long to not see your best friends.” A wave of guilt hit me like a Mack Truck.

I knew if I stayed talking to Moreen for any longer that the regret would begin to consume me and I would lose it right in front of everybody. Not wanting to make a scene or upset her, I gave Moreen one last brief hug before excusing myself to the back patio, espousing a need for some fresh air. She gave me a knowing look and went off to check on the other guests.

The guilt and grief mixed together inside me like vinegar and baking soda in a paper mache volcano. I just made it outside, away from the crowd when it bubbled over and spewed foaming despair over my senses. Sobs wracked my entire frame as I stumbled to the edge of the deck and threw myself against the railing.

It took a long while for my body to calm down and for my eyes to stop dripping like a leaky faucet. “Fuck,” I muttered after taking a great, heaving breath.

“Valerie?” a gruff voice cut through the darkness. Wiping my eyes, I peered towards the person, unable to see anything but the bobbing glow of a lit cigarette. A sinking feeling filled me as the the man spoke again.

“Are you, uh, alright?” caustic memories started to flood back as I finally recognized whom the voice belonged to. As I tired to collect myself, the man smashed out his cigarette and cautiously started to approach.

“Yeah, I just... fuck, you know?” I replied, my own voice cracking; the tears threatening to spill again. I took another shaky breath. “I-I really miss her.” That’s when the damn broke once more, leaving me powerless to stem the onslaught of raw emotions and waterworks.

Suddenly, I felt two tentative, warm arms encircle my body. “Valley Girl,” he said softly in my ear, using the nickname he gave me so many years ago. I shuddered and buried my face into my ex-lover’s shoulder. His scent brought back even more memories.

We stood there in the dark for a long, pregnant moment; simply rocking back and forth while I cried myself out. It was surprisingly nice, comforting to have him hold me again, and I felt mildly disoriented when we finally let go.

“Hi,” he said, laughing softly and wiping gently at the tear-stains on my face.

I sighed, hiccuping slightly before smiling gratefully up at him. “Hey, Billie Joe,” I whispered back.