Ocean Breathes Salty

I pushed past people in the crowded room. So many people. Some I recognized, some I didn’t. I was unsurprised by the turn out though, everyone always loved Hannah. Everyone was her friend, she was everyone’s friend.

Black everywhere. Black shoes, black dresses, black ties. I suddenly became very aware of my own black attire. A black dress paired with a pair of black vans and matching black handbag hanging on my shoulder. The only other time I had worn this dress was my senior year homecoming. Hannah bought a matching one in white. Classmates called us Yin Yang all night but we didn’t care because it was fitting.

I maneuvered through groups of people loudly whispering about Hannah. “I heard she was drunk,” I heard someone say. It took every ounce in me not to turn around and start a fist fight right in the middle of this funeral home. Instead I rolled my eyes and ignored the whispers until I pushed the double doors open and the dry Arizona night air hit my skin.

The annoying buzzing of people gossiping came to a stop as gravity pulled the doors shut behind me. I let out a sigh of relief. There were a couple of guests that littered the parking lot, but it was much calmer out here.

I dug through my purse for my cigarettes and a lighter, but could only find my pack of smokes. I stepped off of the funeral home porch and made my way to the side of the ‘homey’ building. The last thing I was going to do was sit here by the front door and wait for people to approach me. If I heard one more person give me any sort of empathy for Hannah’s death I was going to scream. Everyone acted like they knew how I felt, as if they knew Hannah the way I did. As if losing Hannah would impact their life the way it would mine.

As I got to the side of the building, I noticed someone else leaning against the brick. Tall and lanky. It was dark but I could tell who it was right away. As I got closer to John, I could see the light from the end of his cigarette burning.

“Since when do you smoke?” I asked, holding my cigarette up to him, motioning for a light.

He dug around in his black dress pants pocket for a lighter. “Since Hannah’s not around to yell at me for it anymore.”

I winced slightly. How could he be so nonchalant when talking about her like that? I tried to ignore it. He held his lighter out and I took it. Holding my cigarette between my lips I pressed the lighter flame to the end, inhaling and then slowly exhaling.

“Where have you been?” I asked, handing him the lighter back. I had been here all day and this was the first I was seeing of him. Not that I cared, I preferred it this way. I just thought it was a little weird for the fiancé of the deceased not to be around.

He shrugged but paused before saying anything, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Meadow,” he said, looking at me. His green eyes glistened under the moonlight and I could tell he had been crying. “I don’t think I can go in there.”

He wanted me to feel bad, but I didn’t. Instead I found myself getting angry. I understood that he lost Hannah, but I did too. I still managed to show up and spend my entire Saturday talking to people I didn't want to see. I’ve still been here for Hannah’s family. It sucks, and I don’t want to do it, but I do.

“Well, you have to,” I said. I didn’t hide the disdain from my voice.

We both stood silently for a minute, huffing away at our cancer sticks.

“Can I ask you something?” John interrupted.

I looked up at him, waiting for him to continue.

He threw his cigarette on the ground and stomped it out with the pair of black dress shoes he had on. “Why do you hate me so much?”

I sighed and looked away. I leaned against the wall, my back flat against the cool brick. “Honestly?” I asked, looking forward. I gave him half a second to object before continuing. “You’re selfish, you’re egotistical, you’re boring, and you’re just an all-around jerk.”

I stomped my cigarette out before turning back to him, waiting for him to return the insult.

“You don’t even know me, Meadow.”

I shrugged. “Well why do you hate me?”

John let out a small fake laugh, like he was mocking me. He looked at his feet before looking back up and shrugging. “I don’t.” He pushed off of the wall, and walked past me slowly, still trying to buy himself some time before going inside.

“But thanks,” he called out, turning back around. He made a couple steps backwards as he spoke. “For calling me selfish, and egotistical, and boring, and a jerk.”

I rolled my eyes to myself.

“And Meadow,” he said, coming to a halt, “Just so you know, most people say those exact same things about you.”

He turned and disappeared around the corner.