Past
Calla lilies rest upon his shiny black casket, adding a breath of life to the death that fills the room. They are perfectly sprayed, fanning out in every direction. I focus on the flowers, the curve of the white petals, their pureness.
Their beauty.
The irony does not escape my morbid mind. My mother helped me make arrangements, which was a feat in itself considering I’ve been dealing with my own inner turmoil.
It could have been both of us being buried today.
Caroline squeezes my hand, pulling my attention from the flowers. Her eyes find mine, seeking comfort and understanding. But how can I offer her either when I don’t even understand it myself.
I am empty.
Numb.
Blocking out the pain takes all of my strength so I have none to spare.
I couldn’t save him.
I let her down.
I let him down.
I gave up on him when he needed me the most.
Now he is gone.
And it’s all my fault.
The next few hours slide by in a haze, a block of time that I will never forget; yet, I can’t remember a single detail aside from the flowers. They are all I see every time I think of Dean and it’s almost comforting to me because they seem to shield me from the other gruesome images haunting my mind.
Time passes in a haze.
I accept hugs, offers of condolences, but nothing can ease the pain I feel inside.
Caroline finally fell asleep hours ago, snuggled up with the ragged lion Dean bought her at the zoo a couple years back. I wanted to lie down with her. I haven’t slept at all the last few days, but I am afraid I won’t have the strength to get back up.
Everyone has cleared out, my parents reluctantly left a few hours ago. Rachel offered to stay but I insisted I was fine.
Now, I am not so sure.
I lean my head against the cool fridge, trying to fight off the deep ache in my heart. A hand lands on my shoulder, offering a gentle squeeze.
“Syl.” I turn around, wrapping my arms around my middle, but it does nothing to ease the excruciating pain.
Linc reaches out for me but I turn away, leaving his hand hanging midair. Hurt flashes across his face, adding even more guilt to the ever-growing pile of emotions. I don’t want his comfort even though I desperately need it.
And I sure as hell don’t deserve it.
I shift my eyes to the floor, evading his gaze.
With a long sigh, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his black slacks. “Talk to me.”
I remain silent.
What is there to say? I can’t very well tell him what really happened. I told everyone that I came home and found Dean that way. I couldn’t lay the burden of truth on him. It’s not his fault.
It’s mine.
