Pallid

Her funeral is the following Saturday.

It rains all day, and it's like a mockery, because she's always hated the rain, and the one day it's all about her, it rains.

It rains hard, like it's trying to wipe us all away.

She goes to sleep on a Thursday and doesn't wake up on Friday.

We went on a picnic. I threw bread crusts at ducks at the pond. She threw pebbles. We sneak into a film downtown and throw popcorn at the screen, share a box of candy, make out. She picks out some clothes from some shops nearby after we get out. We go to a diner, and she eats almost everything all by herself without my having to poke or prod. We went home. Made brownies, which she ate while we watched some more movies. We fool around some more. We make plans to go on holiday, maybe to Cumbria or something 'cause she really likes it up there and it's been a while since we've gone on a trip anyway.

We go to sleep.

I wake up and she doesn't.

The morning is a rush and blur of calls to the hospital and ambulances and nurses and doctors shooting me looks, and the day ends with the coroner telling me that she died of 'natural causes' which is just their way of saying they don't know and they don't care about what happened to her.

Personally, I think she died from sadness.

I mean, there's only so much you can take, you know, before you just can't do it anymore and your body just kind of gives up. I think she was so overwhelmingly sad that she just couldn't stand it for a second longer.

I like to think she's in a happier place.

It's a very Gatsby-esque affair.

No one but her parents, Little Bethy, Rita, and myself show up. Ulysses doesn't dare show his face here, and for once, I'm glad. I think he's done enough. No one makes a big dramatic speech. We all kind of just stand there and look at the grave and the casket as they lower it in. Rita and Little Bethy and I throw in some crowns of flowers.

They were her favorites.

I don't know why she did it.

I mean, maybe I loved her too much or maybe I didn't love her enough. Maybe it was Ulysses and his refusal to love anyone but himself that drove her to it. Or maybe Rita not being a part of her life anymore was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Or maybe she just felt trapped, trapped between me and Ulysses and Rita and everyone else.

Maybe we just smothered her with love and affection and hate and jealousy.

I don't know.

I still feel tired and empty and I still love her, I don't think anyone could ever really stop loving her, but I find comfort in the fact that she's not suffering anymore and that maybe she's better off than all of us.