Everything's An Illusion

Ever since I was eight years old I'd hated the month of June. Most people are excited because it means summer is coming and a long two months off from school. But for me it also meant the anniverary of Dustin's death, and with that anniverary came many of Deeana's all-too-often breakdowns.

The thing you have to understand about me and Deeana is that when we were younger we weren't friends by choice; we were only really friends because our parents were best friends. When we were little, Deeana and I had almost nothing in common. She was always the bratty kind of kid, while I was pretty much content with anything. If one little thing wasn't perfect Deeana would go off into one of her tantrums, and I was always just along for the ride. Deeana never really grew out of that, she was always dramatic, but we grew to become real friends and not just the obligatory kind.

June eighth was Dustin's death anniversary, and with the month of June came this overpowering sense of loss and sadness. Every year without fail, Deeana would visit Dustin's grave in the middle of the night of the week before Dustin's death. The first time this happened it scared me to death, but after a while it got to be more annoying than anything.

I probably sound like a bitch for saying this, but sometimes it felt like Deeana used Dustin's death as an excuse to go into mega-bitch mode.

Every year I would follow Deeana to the cemetary and sit with her by his grave. She knew how much it scared me to be at the cemetary in the middle of the night, but she would stop talking to me for weeks if I missed even one night with her. I remember one year when we were twelve I didn't go because I had been sick and stayed home from school that day, and she refused to talk to me again until early August.

It got a little easier once we got older and I started driving. The cemetary was pretty far from our house, about five miles, and those five miles always terrified me when I walked there in the pitch black. It still sucked and made me depressed and nervous as hell, but at least it was a little bit less stressful.

"C'mon, Dee," I said one night. "It's almost three and it's starting to rain." I shivered.

It was kind of chilly out, despite the fact that summer was undoubtedly coming, and the rain that was starting to fall felt freezing against my face. I hugged my sweatshirt tighter and wished that I had the sense to wear sweatpants instead of shorts.

Deeana didn't answer. She was kneeling in front of Dustin's grave staring at the writing on his tombstone and absent-mindedly playing with the rose that lay on the ground in front of it. The cemetary didn't bother her but I always felt nervous in it at night. Hell, I was always nervous about everything, something that my family and friends always teased me about. Even at seventeen I was scared of the dark, scared of being home alone, and scared of being alone in general.

I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching us. I don't even mean about just that moment in the cemetary; I constantly felt like someone was watching me, like someone was hiding around the corner or standing behind me waiting to ambush me. The feelings got worse at night in the dark, and when I was little they were so bad that when I woke up from nightmares in the middle of the night the feeling that somebody was waiting for me in the hallway to scare me if I tried to get my parents scared me more than the actual nightmare.

"Dee, please?" I begged. "I'm freezing and it's getting late."

She sighed, rocking back onto her heels but still not standing up completely. As always she was dragging it out.

"C'mon," I said exasperatedly. "I'm sure my mom's up looking for me right now, we've been gone since midnight."

That was only half true. True, we had been gone since midnight, but we both knew that neither of our parents were wondering where we were. They knew that the first week of June we spent the better part of every night siting by Dustin's grave.

"Bull," Deeana said.

But she finally stood up and turned to face me.

"Ready?" I asked hopefully.

She nodded and we stared to walk towards the entrance of the cemetary where my old, green truck was parked. Deeana got in the passenger seat and I started the car. By then it had really started to rain, the sky opening up just as I started the car. I turned on the windshield wipers and headed to Deeana's house while Deeana stared absently out the window.

"Do you think he's watching?" she asked.

That's the other thing I hated about June, all the introspective questions that Deeana had during the time. All that stupid philosophical, thought-provoking crap.

"I don't know," I sighed.

Frankly, I hoped not.