Karina

Something isn’t right about this. I should be feeling different, should be acting different. Aren’t I supposed to be sad? Depressed? Hysterical? Aren’t I supposed to be crying my eyes out, thinking there’s nothing worth living for, that my life is over?

Instead, I’m standing in front of the mirror making sure my shoes match my dress. I’m listening to Jeff in the shower. Listening for the water to stop running. I mean, it’s been fifteen minutes already. Jeff never showers for longer than ten.

I walk into the living room looking for something to do. I need to keep busy. But what I want to do, and what I should do, are two different things. I want to take out the marketing projections for next year and finalize my expected sales. I know I can’t do that. That isn’t right on a day like this.

Then again, I know I should be crying or needing to be held, or something. But I can’t seem to make myself do that either. Because I don’t feel anything. I can’t even say I feel numb, which would be a relief if I could say, because people could accept that one. The shower water shuts off. I turn toward the bedroom, preparing to walk in and make sure Jeff wears the right suit. Make sure his hair is groomed right. But it catches my eye instead. I can’t help but be drawn to it, needing to pick it up and stare at it close.

It’s the picture of me and her taken on Christmas Eve two years ago. Before everything seemed to change. Before I realized that we had nothing. Nothing but a long history which seemed to be the only thing we did have.

We’re laughing in it. Our arms are around each other’s shoulders and we’re laughing. I can’t remember what we were laughing about. To tell the truth, I barely remember that day at all.

It must’ve been something stupid, this secret joke between us. We were always laughing over the really dumb things. If we were ever to laugh about something truly funny, then that would lead to seriousness and we couldn’t allow ourselves to see the real us. The people we were down deep.

Jeff touches my shoulder, making me jump. I didn’t hear him come in the room. I stand up quickly and put the picture back on the shelf. I don’t want to feel his touch on my shoulders, nor do I want him to see that I was looking at the picture. It’s not that I don’t like his touch- I do- it’s just that people touching me seems to hit that nerve in the back of my neck. Like that feeling you get when you’re in a crowded room and worry that you can’t get enough air.

I turn to face him. I can’t smile, nor frown. I just watch him.

“How’s this?” He asks, gesturing his arm down his body, showing the suit he chose.

He’s wearing a navy blue suit with a white shirt and red tie. He had put on his black Oxfords, the ones that lace funny. His hair is still wet, but it’s been combed into place, neatly. He looks perfect.

I squint at him. “You’re going to wear a red tie?”

He just stares at me with that blank expression he’s become so good at forming. The look that says he doesn’t understand what I’m talking about.

I force myself not to roll my eyes, but I can’t seem to stop my voice from sounding exasperated. “You can’t wear red to a funeral.”

“I can’t?” The confused look doesn’t go away.

“No. You can’t.”

Jeff shrugs in a defeated manner. “I guess I could wear my navy one. Or my black one. But then, I do have one that’s sort of a brown color.”

I sigh at him. He’ll never understand. “Just forget it. Let’s just get out of here and go.”

He cocks his head to the side. “You were looking at her picture.”

I feel my insides tighten. “Yes, I was. I was waiting for you to get out of the shower, and then when you did, I turned to go to the bedroom and there it was. I had just picked it up when you walked in and frightened me to death.”

My eyes widen in shock. I can’t believe I said that! I’m on my way to a funeral, her funeral, and I make a joke about death.

Jeff takes a step toward me. He puts his arms around me and for a second, it’s the most relieving, secure feeling, to feel his arms around me tight. I want to sag into those arms, lay my head on his shoulder, and stay like that forever. But I know, if I did that, I would be allowing my emotions to control my actions.

I push him away and turn around to get my purse. “Come on, let’s go.”

I walk past him, heading to the front door, knowing he’s watching me not knowing what to do. How can I make him realize I don’t need anything? That I’m fine, this means nothing more to me than an interruption in my work schedule.

The drive to the church is silent. Jeff must’ve thought that even putting on the radio would be rude to the dead or something. I know he’s dying to listen to some music, he never could handle silences.

I should tell him it’s okay, that he can turn on the radio and play that tape he just bought, but I say nothing. I don’t have the energy, nor do I care if he’s happy or not. I just want to be left alone, in this silence.

It’s sunny out, with huge, fluffy white clouds. The temperature is in the low eighty’s. One of those days where the sun glimmers in the trees, making the leaves look like they’re sparkling. It’s hard to believe that we’re going to a funeral.

I’ve always thought that there were things you did on dark days and things you did on light ones. Weddings, picnics, laughable hours with the ones you love were things you did on the light days. Funerals, heartbreaks, getting fired were things you did on the dark days.

This was definitely a light day and yet, we were going to a funeral. Her funeral of all things. Why didn’t the weather know we needed a dark day? What an oxy-moron that is.

Jeff turned the corner to the parking lot and drove around for a few minutes looking for that ultimate parking spot. I hate this trait of his: finding a place to park that will be close to the door to where he’s heading, so he won’t have as far to walk. I don’t mind walking, why should he?

At last the parking space is discovered. I barely wait for the car to stop before opening my door and stepping outside. The sun is much brighter than it was in the car. I search through my purse and take out my sunglasses. I feel like I should be Audrey Hepburn, dressed in a tight, black cocktail dress with pearl earrings and these stupid dark glasses.

The parking lot of the church is quite full. People have already started to park on the side street. I’m a bit surprised by this. I knew she was a social butterfly, but the only friends I had met of hers were the drug addicts of the town. The rowdies, as we used to call them. The ones who were fun and exciting to date in college, but lost their appeal when I realized they were headed on a long, drawn out journey to nowhere.

It’s too hot to wear such dark colors. I can feel the sun beating on my scalp, burning blisters through my hair. A light film of sweat begins to form between my breasts.

Jeff comes around from his side of the car and holds out his hand to me. I hadn’t realized I was just standing there. I take his hand and feel him squeeze mine. I try to smile at him, to let him know that I appreciate his support. We begin walking to the front of the church.

People are bustling everywhere, heading in the same direction. My insides cringe. My heart starts beating a thousand miles a minute..... Beating.