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Bre
They say every action has an equal and opposite reaction. I agree with that philosophy as I stand at the back of the crowd gathered in the graveyard to bid farewell to my best friend. I hold my breath as the gravediggers lower her remains into the ground, tears stinging my eyes, and I know that my actions have in some way led to this.
I didn't kill her literally; no, childbirth and the effects on her body did, but I may as well have stuck a knife in her chest. The weight of the last conversation we had is what keeps me up at night, tossing and turning, unable to find rest.There is no rest for the wicked,the voices in my head remind me.
A chill runs through me, and I wrap my black coat tighter around my body, like a protective shield against the elements. The wind waves the tree branches as if it’s their final goodbye. Thick gray clouds gather above, sending unwelcome chills through me. Days like this used to bring me comfort, cozying up with a book or letting the rain inspire my songwriting. Now there’s just a hollow feeling in my chest. But who gives a fuck about my feelings, right?
The people at the front bend and grab fists full of dirt, throwing it over the mahogany casket. I'm unmoving like a tree. I don’t belong up there with Savanna's family, so I observe from a distance, my mouth dry.
The gravediggers, greasy-haired and beefy, shovel spades full of damp dirt into the hole, the thud of the spade as it breaks through the ground makes me shudder. Finally, all that remains is a heap of mud.
I step aside as the mourners start to disperse. Some smile and greet me; others hold my hand, offering condolences before making their way back to their cars. I’m rooted to the spot, waiting forhim, Denton Duke, the beginning and end of this story.
His head is bowed low, his shoulders sagging. Justin places a hand on his father's shoulder. At fifteen, he's as tall as Denton. He’s got the same dark hair and handsome face, but the boy’s face isn't lined with exhaustion. Denton’s shoulders shake, and my insides somersault. I should walk over there, reach out and comfort him somehow. Let him know that I'm here for him even if he doesn’t want me to be. I convince myself that he knows I am, and for now, that is enough.
"You ready?" Nate presses a kiss to my forehead, wrapping his arms around me as he pulls me closer. I see the fear in his eyes. When death comes knocking, everyone starts to shut their doors and windows, boarding up every crack and crevice, so it doesn't touch them. Although Nate is my ex-husband, we’re still close. We love each other; we just aren’t right for each other. "We can see them at the house."
I want to shout at him and tell him that he has no right to tell me what to do, that I can stay here as long as I see fit. But I don’t have the energy.
"Mmm…" is all I can manage, nodding. Nate laces his hands with mine and leads me away. I chance a look back, and sure enough, Denton’s dark eyes find mine, and I know this isn't over. Turning away, I straighten my back and walk away because I’m the enemy to him.
He hates me.
Their house is the same, but different. People chatter, there's movement, but it's silent at the same time. There’s an intangible void she left behind, and no amount of activity could ever fill that. I set out the disposable plates and cutlery. Savanna would not be seen dead using these. The pun stabs me right in the chest.She’s dead.It's unreal. It’s real.
There is a hush that falls across the room, and when I look up, Denton’s entering the house. He surveys the room, then runs a hand over his face. "Nothing to see here, folks," he scoffs, taking the stairs two at a time. Justin follows close behind him. A door slams, then another. I flinch at the sound.
Brushing a stray curl from my face, I stroll to the kitchen.
“Is there anything else I can do?” I ask the older ladies gathered there. “I feel like I’ll explode if I’m not doing something.” My eyes burn with unshed tears, the smell of the food makes my insides churn.
“You can take these out, honey,” one of Savanna’s aunts tells me, handing me a bowl and squeezing my shoulder. When I’m done with one thing, I do something else. I refill drinks and straighten the table cloths, anything to stop my mind from wandering to Savanna.
I can almost hear her laughing, her head thrown back, blonde curls bouncing, catching the light. “You’re a bitch,” She slurred. “Just one more shot, come on,” she snorted and laughed.
I should have taken that shot.
I should have done a lot of things.
I shouldn’t have done what I did.
The sound of a baby crying has everyone whispering amongst themselves. I see the pitiful looks on their faces. They’re concerned about the poor widower upstairs.
Savanna's mother, Amanda, sets down a tray of sandwiches, and I know she wants to head upstairs. Outside Nate and a few other men create a ruckus, drinking whiskey and talking louder than they should. I sigh. They have no clue, do they? Instead of being there for the man who just lost his wife, they’re treating this like it’s just another day.
"I'll check on them," I offer, my heart pounding against my ribcage. My palms are sweaty, and I wipe them down my dress.
"Oh, sweetheart, you don't have to," Amanda places a hand on my arm.
"Someone has to be down here with the guests."Guests. An odd word to use during such a time. She looks relieved. I don’t think anyone wants to deal with Denton today; they haven’t since he got home from the hospital.
My hands tremble as I snake my hands over the railing on my way upstairs. I turn left, hear music on full blast. I pause outside Justin’s room. I don’t blame him for wanting to get lost elsewhere, even for a little while.
My hand rests on the doorknob of Savanna and Denton’s bedroom. It feels wrong to enter without knocking, so I do just that, to be met with no response. Ty cries again, and I turn the knob and push open the door.
Denton sits on the edge of their bed, staring at the small cot beside it, his eyes red-rimmed. He doesn’t look up when I enter, and he doesn’t react when I pick the baby up.
