Page 14 of Hunt for the Roses
When the ceremony ends, people start making their way to their cars at the curb of the cemetery to chat with each other. I stand from my seat and turn to my mom who was sitting next to me. She brings me in for a tight hug, and I rest my chin on her shoulder. Somehow, she’s more emotional than I am right now, and we’re atmybest friend’s funeral.
I just stare blankly in front of me.
When my mom pulls away, she grabs the sides of my face. “Are you going to be okay? Do you want me to keep you company back at your house?”
I shake my head with a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”
“You let me know if you need anything, you understand?” She hugs me again. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry,” she whispers.
“I’ll let you know. Thank you for being here, Mom,” I say, and I kiss her on the cheek to say goodbye to her.
I watch my mom walk off as I let out a long breath, and then I make my way over to a tree away from where the crowds of people are. I lean back against the tree with closed eyes, shoving my hands in my suit pockets as I cross one foot in front of the other. This is all too much, and I just need these few minutes alone. I don’t want to mingle with anyone again just yet. So many thoughts are coursing through me, I don’t even have a clear vision of what’s going on in my head. Everything in my mind is so blurry that I just feel numb. Like my emotions are iced over. I feel like I should be crying or getting angry, and the fact that I’m not makes me concerned. How could I not be feeling much of anything right now?
“Hey, man.” Ronnie’s voice interrupts my thoughts, causing me to open my eyes. I tilt my head forward to see Ronnie walking toward me with two hands in his pockets.
“Hey,” I respond in a faint voice.
“How are you holding up?” Ronnie asks once he’s standing in front of me.
I look off to the side and let out a sigh. “This fucking sucks,” I breathe out.
Ronnie throws me a tight-lipped smile as he places a hand on my shoulder, and I mirror his tight-lipped smile as if to say “thank you” for the comfort.
Ronnie brings his hand down and shoves his hand back into his pocket. “I’m really sorry, Dane. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a best friend.”
I drop my head and nod. “Yeah, I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Not even my worst enemy.”
“I know ‘sorry’ doesn’t seem like enough, but that’s really all it comes down to,” Ronnie says.
I look up at him. “I appreciate it. Just you being here is enough.” I pause before continuing. “Especially for Ari.”
Ronnie gives a slow nod in understanding. “My parents and I think it’s best for Aria to stay with them for a while. We don’t think it’s good for her to be in that house right away.”
I gulp nervously just thinking about what Aria is going through. “How’s she doing?”
Ronnie shakes his head. “Not good.”
I just stare at him and inhale a long breath.
He rubs the back of his neck. “This isn’t going to be easy for her. No other way to put it than how you did before. This fucking sucks.”
I vaguely gesture a hand out. “Hey, listen, whatever I can do, let me know.”
Ronnie nods. “For now, just worry about yourself. You have healing to do too.”
I nod and we say goodbye with a hug. I’m glued to the tree as I close my eyes again and listen to the crowd of mingling people for the next few minutes. I can’t convince myself to move from this tree because if I move, everything starts to become real. If I start conversing with people and exchanging apologies, everything just becomes more real. Saying sorry to Aria was just the cherry on top of the miserable day this is. I told her whatever she needs from me, I’ll be there for her. You know, the typical things you say to someone who is grieving. I really did mean it, but I just can’t face her again. At least not right now, it’s just too much to bear. So I wait for the voices of the mingling people to die down, and once people start clearing the green field, I find my way to my black Mustang to drive home.
Once I am back in my house, I place my keys on top of the foyer table to the right. I stand in place as the silence in my house consumes me. I’m now completely alone with my thoughts, being forced to confront them head on. It’s like the foggy haze that I was seeing in my mind slowly parts, and my new reality comes into focus.
Kyle is dead, and he’s never coming back.
With this revelation, I pick my keys back up off the foyer table, and ricochet them across the living room area as hard as I possibly can. The keys crash into a picture frame on the wall, and shards of glass explode onto the carpet.
~Two Weeks After~
It’s been two weeks since Kyle’s burial, and my childhood bedroom has become my physical prison. I’m lying in a fetal position on my twin bed, just staring numbly out the window at the tree branches blowing in the gentle wind. My emotions have been coming in waves, but the one thing that remains constant is my broken heart.
Each passing day without Kyle has torn a piece of my heart off. My heart is no longer a complete organ that beats inside my chest, but a box of broken pieces that serves no meaningful purpose. When I move around, it’s almost like I can hear the rattling of the box, and the sound is so loud that I’m reminded every second Kyle is gone. The only way to not hear the clanking of the box is if I don’t move, so I choose to lie down most of my days. Silence is the soundtrack to my life right now, and I kind of like it here.
