My Best Friend's Funeral

I kick a small rock as I walk through the grass. I could not stay there, be in that room, for one more second; it was suffocating me. Why are they here? Why am I here. Half of them didn't even know her. The other half didn't care. Which half did I fall into? Yesterday, I'd definitely say neither; I used to believe that I knew her better than she knew herself. Today? I don't know anymore.

I walk through the field, with my hands in my suit's pocket. My steps are not uniform; I think my nervous system is not working properly, which actually makes sense. I'm at my best friend's funeral. My closest friend; my only friend.

I try to light up a cigarette as I sit on the grass, leaning against a tree; the tree. I try once, twice, thrice, but the wind wouldn't let it light up. No... That was a lie. My hands are shaking. I can't light it up.

I throw away the lighter in frustration as I laugh, there's something funny about the whole situation if you think about it.

Rory and I have been friends for 13 years now. I have seen her go through everything. Puberty, first love, first heartbreak, moving on. She was a strong woman. What happened? What was so wrong, that she couldn't even tell me?

I bring out my cellphone, to go through the last voice mail she left me: "Jason, I'm sorry. I know you care about me and I know how much you love me, and trust me, I hate to be doing this to you. Please forgive me. Please don't cry. I'm happy. I'll be happy. Please let me be happy?"

Her voice was so calm. How could it be so calm, moments before she drank an ampule full of potassium cyanide? When did it start; how did I miss? How did her best friend failed to see that she was unhappy? How? Was I really so preoccupied in my stupid brain that I didn't even notice that my best friend is frustrated and crying for help on the inside?

Even then, could I have stopped it if I had checked the mail when she sent me? What was I doing? Flirting with yet another girl? Who I don't even remember the name of? How could have I been so selfish?

I pull my knees close to my chest and shove my face there, it hurts, it hurts so much. It physically hurts me to think about it. "I'M SORRY RORY!" I cry out, as I start to cry. It was my fault. I should have known.

And look at me now. Being the selfish, yet again, so much so that I don't even care that Mrs. Watson is in there, talking to the guests, the ungrateful bastards that didn't care enough to know her back when she was alive, WHY ARE THEY HERE NOW?

But I can't. I killed her daughter. Her only daughter. Her husband had left a couple years after Rory was born, and we never heard from him ever again. I can't go in there and face her, knowing that I took away the only thing she had. Yes, I'm a coward.

I scream out as I threw away the phone. It hits a wall and I hear the glass shatter and scatter on the floor. I chuckle, guess it was perfect. Why does it matter anymore, the only time it could have saved my best friend, my stupid ass didn't use it, so why have it now? When everything is over.

I shove my face again in my knees, as my head hurts with thoughts, they are screaming at me. I killed my best friend.

...

The sound of leaves cracking makes me turn around. But I can't see who it is, I didn't notice when it got so late, the sun is setting, and there's a red glow in the sky, but the person's face is hidden in the shadow of the trees.

"What are you still doing here, Jason?" Mrs. Watson asks, as she comes and sits down on the grass by me. I shiver, I've been trying to hide from her, the whole day, been ignoring her, but guess I can't hide anymore, can I.

"Hello Mrs. Watson, I'm sorry I had to leave, I couldn't stay in there, with those..." I look away, I lost the right to look into her eyes when I murdered her daughter.

"Those pretentious bastards?" she finishes the thought for me; laughing, catching me off guard. I choke on my thoughts as I look at her, she's smiling, how is she smiling?

"How are you holding up?" she asks me, ever so softly.

The irony. Her daughter just died. I am at her daughter's funeral, I am supposed to support her, help her; and here she is helping me again.

"I don't know" I say, as I shove my face in my knees again. "I'm sorry I failed her. I should have been there; I should have stopped it."

"Jason don't. Stop. Don't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault" she says as she puts a hand on my shoulder. I can feel her staring at me with sympathetic eyes; I was supposed to do that, help her, and here she is, sympathizing me. How is she doing that?

"She left me a voice mail; but I was too busy, too busy with my stupid shit to check on time, too busy to be here for her, too busy to... to stop it."

She sighs. She takes away her hand. I wish she didn't. "Jason, you couldn't have stopped it, she wouldn't let you. When has she ever let someone stop what she sets her mind on? You didn't fail her, Jason. You made her life better. She had always been a sad kid, I don't think I had seen her happier than the day she came home and told me that she made a new friend. You. And she was glowing." I can't help but smile as she says these. She continues, "She was happy with you. And then she made decision. We had nothing to do about it."

And at that moment, I realized that... those words were not for me only. It was for her too. I realized that she also feels the same. She also blames herself; and it was her daughter! How could have I been so ignorant.

"You know that it also wasn't your fault too, right?" I ask as I look up at her. "You were a great mother. She loved you. You know that, right?"

She swipes away a drop of tear from her eyes and nods. I hold her hand and press once to let her know that I'm here. We'll deal with this together; we're in this together and we can be strong. For Rory.

I move closer and put my head on her shoulder. I can feel her crying. I look at the setting sun. It's so beautiful. We'll be fine.