Summer Shadows

The graveyard was packed; the majority of the faces were familiar, acquaintances and friends from high school and my semester at the community college. I hadn’t spoken to many of them but a few words during our time in classes together, but I could still feel their eyes on me. They knew who I was. They knew my name and face from the papers and tabloids, the spiral of death and controversy that seemed to surround me in the wake of the past six months. Being at the side of Chassie’s parents helped nothing; only amplifying the unwanted attention from the crowd behind us.

But Mrs. Foster had insisted upon my arrival that I join them, clinging and sobbing on my shoulder as I’d taken no more than two steps out of the car. Looking to Oliver for support in that moment had been instinctual, desperately alarmed at the prospect of being so needed, when I felt so to blame for what had happened to the girl I used to call my best friend. He had given me a supportive nod, the slight motion giving me a vague sense of ease as I assured her I would stay with them during the service. Oliver was still limping from the day before, giving me an excuse to step away from the distraught woman and make my way to his side. The support I was giving felt like nothing in comparison to the mental and emotional support I was receiving from his presence.

In all honesty, I hadn’t wanted him there, but the reality was, I needed him. He was the grounding I required in this situation, the one trace of stability that would keep me from caving under the pressure of Chassie’s death and the impending service. And as more and more people had shown up, the overwhelming circumstances seemed to hit home more and more clearly. Oliver hadn’t given me an option in his presence at the funeral because there was none to begin with, and he had known that better than I had even considered allowing myself to.

He kept as close to me as I did to the Fosters as the service commenced; one of my hands clasped by Alice Foster, the other unintentionally gripping at the sleeve of his suit. He didn’t seem to mind, not speaking of the action as we stood around the flower-covered coffin.

My eyes darted to our surroundings more often than not, seeking out a face that wasn’t there to mourn. But no matter where I looked, I didn’t see it. Relief and terror were intermingled at the lack of noticeable presence from Darren. Yet, I still felt uncertain, the pinprick of one simple thought plaguing me; even if I couldn’t see him, did that mean he truly wasn’t there? I didn’t know anymore. To be honest, I had never really known. But now, the mere idea left me anxious. I felt the lump in my throat growing once again, fingers tightening on Oliver’s sleeve.

The action didn’t go unnoticed; a gentle tug greeted me, followed shortly by a pair of rough fingers clasping my hand with a light squeeze. I glanced down, figure tensing as I took in the sight of his tanned-hand wrapped around mine. My gaze traced up his arm; settling on his face. He didn’t look back; the cool blue eyes settled steadily ahead of us on the man speaking. I’d long lost track of his words, and in that moment I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt I would come out of the funeral without knowing a word of what anyone said.

The Fosters hadn’t asked me to speak at the burial. It wasn’t due to the fallout months before between Chassie and myself; but more out of pity I believed. They had taken into account the fact I had buried my own father not long before, possibly. I was grateful for the reprieve from speaking, knowing that my thoughts wouldn’t have allowed me to give a proper send-off to her despite all the times I had witnessed such a scenario in my upbringing. I knew the proper words, but the stress of late had my brain too muddled to formulate exactly what would have been needed.

The stir of movement surrounding us startled me momentarily, glancing around only to find everyone standing. It seemed as though things had wrapped up without my notice. The gentle tug of Oliver’s hand around mine snapped me out of my thoughts, hastily leaving my chair to join the rest in one final prayer. I dropped my head as the words were uttered, staring quietly at the still damp grass below. The ground was soft from the rain the previous day; it was a time I was glad to be wearing flats, knowing good and well how many times a nice pair of heels had sunken into the drenched ground when I had assisted with the services alongside my father. My gaze flickered up as the “Amen” was uttered, and a quiet murmur took hold of the group behind us.

A sigh of relief left me, grip on his hand loosening a tad. It was almost over. I was almost free. Mrs. Foster gave my other hand a squeeze, and I looked over once more to the woman who’s face must have been stained with tears for days on end at this point. All she muttered was a soft, “Thank you.” Before her husband pulled her towards the casket. It was time for their final farewells. My heart ached at the thought; no one should have to bury their child so early in life. Yet, I had seen more of it than I wished in the past year.

“Maggie.”

Oliver’s voice quietly pulled my attention, his left hand still around mine as his right held his cellphone. “Dad called, so let me get back to him right fast, alright? It’ll only be a minute or so.”

“Oh—yeah. That’s no problem.” I offered a quick nod, retracting my hand from his. What he met me with was a brief, uncertain look.

“Just a minute, I promise.” And with that, he limped off, pressing his phone to his ear as he went.

I took the moment to carefully look around; the prickle of fear at the idea of Darren’s unseen presence had yet to leave me. I was beginning to think it never would. The uneasiness was a gateway into a permanent state of stress it seemed, the slight tightness in my chest at the mere thought of him only seemed to vanish during the brief waking periods in the morning. My eyes closed, inhaling slowly as I tried to calm myself. Someone was trying to look out for me on that side of things. I had to remember that. Maybe I would be fine. It seemed like a false hope, completely unrealistic. But, I had to hold on to something, didn’t I?

“Ah, Maggie Walton, its been a while, hasn’t it?” All it took was that vaguely familiar voice to allow a different sense of unease to wash over me. Blinking, I looked to my side. Sasha Kravitz slowly approached, arms crossed as Taylor West and Brooke Farms followed close behind. I frowned involuntarily, hesitantly turning to face the girls I remembered from high school. We had a few classes together back then, European History and Sociology the only memorable ones. We hadn’t really spoken, but I knew their names and they knew mine. They had been fairly close with Chassie, though, and the memory of that was what concerned me the most.

“…Sasha, ah, how are you?” I tried to keep an even tone, forcing a small, apologetic smile as they stopped before me. I could feel the air of coldness that surrounded them; bitter, unfriendly. This had all the makings of an unpleasant conversation already.

“Unlike you, I’m actually a bit torn up one of my closest friends is dead, but you’ve got other preoccupations, don’t you, Maggie?” Her words held all the sharpness of a knife, and I flinched a little in reaction. “But you? You seem to be doing okay for yourself. Your ex, your ‘best friend’, and father dead and you’re already shacking up with the bank heir. Losing everything has really worked out in your favor, huh, Maggie?”

Her words were loud enough to attract attention; a brief hush falling over as the sensation of many a pair of eyes could be felt settling on us. There was the slow numbness of pain beginning to take over; and the world started to feel distant. Those cold words stung harshly, bitter and untrue. But, there was no point in protest, was there? It wouldn’t do any good, it wouldn’t change any minds. It was my own fault for not calculating how it would look to bring Oliver along; not realizing how it would come off to those present. There were plenty of rumors about my connection with their family; god knows this only fueled the fire in the worst sort of way. Sasha’s mouth was moving again, a hard look in her eyes as she shift closer; but the noise itself all seemed muted as I stood there, silent; unresponsive to whatever she may have been throwing at me. One phrase though, one phrase came through, “You don’t care about anyone but yourself, do you?”

The feeling came back then, through the shock and shame, and I took a step back as a slow heat stung the corners of my eyes. I didn’t care? I didn’t care? My breath seemed to hitch in my throat as I bumped into something behind me, quickly moving to fumble away. But. Something stopped me.

It was his hand on the small of my back; it was the gentle touch of his fingers on my wrist as he carefully maneuvered me away from the scene at hand. I tried to blink back the tears, the mutters of those on all sides background noise.

He moved us away from the collective, and back towards the procession of cars, voice a soft murmur. “You are none of those things, Maggie Walton. Don’t believe it for one second.”

I didn’t reply, quietly allowing him to steer me to our car at a slowed pace. Despite his limp, the blonde boy did his best to urge me along, my hollow gaze shifting to look up at him. He looked unabashedly worried, eyes flickering from me to the car as we approached it. Oliver heaved a quiet sigh as he helped me in, circling around to the driver’s side soon after. Once in, he stared at the wheel for a few moments.

“You… didn’t deserve any of what she said, you know that, don’t you, Maggie?”

I slowly looked at him again, only to find those bright blue eyes settled unwaveringly on me. His stare was soft compared to what I had become accustomed to, earnest even. But I held my silence, and he heaved a sigh, turning his focus to the car as he cranked it. “They don’t seem to understand just how deeply those unnecessary words can cut. Or maybe they do; maybe they just don’t care. Regardless, no one deserves to hear that.”

A choked laugh left me as he finished speaking, sparing a glance down at my own hands. “…But when you give the pretense you don’t care, perhaps its what you deserve.”

“Tch. Anyone with a brain knows you care—You wouldn’t act the way you did if you didn’t and—“ A huff left him as we pulled away from the graveyard, headstone dotted grass fading in the rearview mirror. “…We’re going back to Charleston. Today. Get your stuff packed when we get home. Dad already has the seats reserved on the plane and everything. Neither of us need to be here any longer than we have to.”

At least there was one thing we both seemed to agree on in that instant.

***

We touched down at the airport to a sky canvased in burnt orange; the color was still atrocious in my eyes, but at that moment I couldn’t bring myself to care very much about the horrid hue. It hadn’t taken much for Oliver to convince me to take a nerve pill an hour before we departed from the airport. At that point I was beyond arguing. Anything to make the day a little less… awful. That little pill had worked wonders, the anxiety from my discomfort with flying wasn’t there. In fact my anxiety over almost everything seemed to vanish. The words from the girls earlier in the day seemed like a distant dream that held no significance; and thoughts of Darren? That was a bridge I’d cross when I came to it. I idly wondered why I hadn’t tried these sooner.

Oliver seemed to notice a difference as well, the one point when the plane had hit turbulence, he had instinctively grasped for my hand. I hadn’t flinched; not from his touch, and certainly not from the bumpy ride. It almost reminded me of a child’s roller coaster. In fact, I’d found myself pleasantly dozing off before he nudged me into a state of alertness as the plane touched down.

I stretched my arms above my head as he loaded our luggage into the slick black car that had been awaiting our arrival, a yawn passing through my lips as the humidity began to process. Wrinkling my nose, I pulled my hair up into a bun, sliding into the cool backseat of the Sedan. Oliver followed soon after, giving me a careful once over as he buckled up.

“Maggie, you good?”

“In this very instant? Honestly I’m better than I have been in a long time, god bless whatever you gave me.” I offered a thumbs up, dropping my head back against the seat with a content sigh. “I mean give me a few hours or tomorrow and I’ll be back to my usual self, but right now, yeah, I’m good.”

“If only it didn’t take medication to make you say that and sound like you mean it.” He shook his head with a wry smile. Soon, the car began to move. I allowed my eyes to drift shut again, focusing on the soft noise of the air conditioning in the bearable silence. It was amazing how everything seemed so simple in those moments. And I let out a relieved breath.

Our ride ebbed on as I enjoyed the muted chaos of my mind, focusing on nothing too heavy or too painful for a change. I could worry about that later. In that moment, all I wanted was the peace. Half an hour or so passed in silence, pleasant, calm, and very much needed. But, something finally sprung to the forefront of my mind, and it was I who spoke first, erasing the quiet.

“Hey, Oliver?”

As I heard a slight shift, I peeked one eye open. He lift his head from where it had been resting against the window, settling me with a sleepy look. “What is it?”

“I just wanted to say thank you, for earlier,” I muttered, closing my eyes again. “Thanks for going with me, and doing what you did. I know I fought you on it, but, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t need you there. So. Thanks for that. Really.”

The car lapsed into silence once again, and it didn’t bother me. There wasn’t really much to say in response, in my opinion at least. I had just wanted to get that out there. I’d been so difficult lately; he at least needed to know that his efforts weren’t unappreciated.

“I’d do it again if I you needed me to, you know.”

I hadn’t anticipated that response, lifting my head after I gave myself a moment to process it. The sky was fading then, and I wasn’t sure what bridge we were going over as the world faded to a purple-ish pink hue. He wasn’t looking at me; but instead back out the window towards the darkening ocean.

“You’re not as alone as you think you are, and people care about you, they want to help. I just. Want you to realize that. And hey, maybe if I can’t, someone else can. But, I want to give it a shot.”

Finding a reply to that was beyond me; and despite the calm ease I’d primarily felt, something else seemed to take over then. There was a moment’s hesitation as I reached over; gently grasping for his hand. He tensed for just a moment; easing his fingers between mine after a short period, though. Those hands were expectedly warm and rough, and slowly becoming familiar. We spent the rest of the ride once again in a calm quiet, my hand not leaving his until the car finally slowed to a halt in the driveway of the beach house. It was with a bit of reluctance I did so, slipping out of the car and around to the trunk to wait for my bag. As Oliver handed it over; he graced me with a smile. It seemed to give his face a warmness I wasn’t used to, and I couldn’t help but stare. Slowly, I felt my own lips turn upwards, offering the slightest of smiles in return.

“There you two are!”

A sudden, loud, and southern voice broke the calm quiet, causing both of us to jump and turn our focus towards the figure stomping down the stairs towards us.

“I have some words for you, Maggie! And don’t you dare think you’re getting off scott free Ollie, I’ll have your head before the day is out!”

If there was one thing I hadn’t anticipated, it was this.

My voice cracked a little as I spoke, dropping my bag to the side as I ran towards her, landing square in her arms. “I can’t believe youre here—“

A laugh greeted me, and Katie Thompson hugged me back just as tightly as I hugged her. “Surprise, Maggie. I missed you too, doll.”