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“Oh, um, yes, please. And if it’s not too much trouble, can you grab my makeup and toiletries, please?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
I turn and walk back to one of our guest rooms on the opposite end of the hallway where I’ve been staying. I almost asked Mads if I could stay with him for a few more days, but it was clear my presence made him very uncomfortable. Can’t say I blame him, having a constant reminder around of your dead best friend.
My emotions have continued to flip from sorrow and agony to anger and hatred toward Dane. How could he be ashamed to ask me for money or that people might judge him for a failed business, but decide it is okay to leave me saddled with his suicide?
I’ve called him a coward in my bitter tirades in the shower and yet in the same breath I’m apologizing to him as if he’s still here. Begging him to come back, to give us a second chance.
I pick up my phone and call Mads. He’s the only person I have to help me plan the funeral. With my parents gone, I have no more family, and living in this world of the superficial, I have no real friends. None that I can trust to help me in a time like this.
It goes to voicemail, so I call him again. Still no answer. I listen to the voicemail from the funeral director again.
“Hello, Mrs. Ashford, this is Reginald Steen again.” I can hear the frustration in his voice. “I need you to sign off on a few things before we move forward with the arrangements. If you could, please give me a call back at your earliest convenience so that we can schedule a time for you to come in or just stop by when you can. Thank you and condolences.”
“Your makeup and toiletries, ma’am.” I let the phone slowly fall from my ear as I smile at Tilly.
“Thank you.”
“Are you sure you don’t want any tea? I can make you a sandwich.” I reassure her that I’m okay and turn my attention back to my phone.
Clearly, Mads has no interest in helping me. I apply my makeup, doing my best to hide the dark circles under my eyes, but it does little to help. Not that the funeral home is a place to judge people on their appearances. I finish my minimal makeup, pulling my hair back into a low bun and slipping into a pair of oversized black slacks and a matching black blouse and mules.
“Hi, Andy.” I attempt to smile, but it’s like my lips don’t even register the movement anymore. “Sorry to interrupt you, but any chance I can get a ride?”
“Absolutely.” He wipes the crumbs from his face after finishing his last bite of lunch. “Let me just grab the keys and pull the car around.”
I wait patiently out front for him to pull the car around, my large black sunglasses in place to hide my less-than-favorable appearance.
“Where are we heading, Mrs. Ashford?” He looks up at me in the rearview mirror. I realize that I never told him.
“The funeral home, Andy.”
Neither of us speak the entire ride. While my phone has been ringing and buzzing with generic voicemails and texts of condolences andif you need anything, just let me knowmessages, not a single person has shown up to hold my hand. To tell me that it’s going to be okay. I remember my mom telling me that even surrounded by all of her friends at the country club or a gala or on someone’s yacht, she felt so lonely, and I couldn’t understand at the time. I didn’t realize that she was telling me back then that she didn’t trust the people who were in her circle. She would always say,“Besides, I don’t need a best friend; I have a daughter.”
Somehow, after watching my mother become the loneliest woman I’ve ever seen and swearing I’d never end up like her, I’ve gone and done exactly that.
MADS
THREE WEEKS LATER…
Ican’t say that I wasn’t relieved when Emery opted to have Dane’s body cremated. No body, no camera evidence since I took care of that… no murder.
“Sir, if you’re going to make it to the memorial service on time, you need to leave now.” Corina, my assistant, pokes her head into my office. “Tony is already downstairs with the car.”
“Right, be right down,” I say, tossing the service program onto my desk. A smiling photo of Dane is on the cover with a quote in fancy script.
Loving husband, beloved son, loyal friend.
It made me actually laugh out loud when I first saw it. I’m sure that Emery chose that quote and feels that it truly describes her beloved late husband.
How is that two people can know the same person in different ways but still not know them at all?
To Emery, that’s exactly who Dane Ashford was and will remain. The man she knew, not the man that I knew, because I’ve decided that I will take his secret to the grave.
I’ve ignored her calls, texts, any attempt to reach out because the only thing she and I had in common, the only reason I needed to be involved in her life at all, is now gone. There is no justification for me to be involved with her. That’s one thing Dane was right about; she’ll never choose to be with me and I’ll never put myself in a position to where I have to continue to lie to her about what I did. If I’m gone too, then all of her problems disappear.
I keep my head down as I walk through the lobby of my building, sliding into the back of my waiting car and head toward the cemetery. I’m not attending the actual service, but according to the service program, there will be a short prayer vigil at the mausoleum.
