The Funeral

It was my first funeral. I had never seen so many people in black. They had come from far to see the dead girl. I could recognize most of them. There was a surprising amount of food. Hadn’t anyone ever heard that the dead don’t eat? And she was there, of course, but after what had happened I did not want to see her. And even if she had something to say to me, I didn’t want to know. But I guess it was inevitable that she come up to me.

“I'm...” She started slowly, “I’m so sorry. You know I never meant for things to go as far as they did. I wish you could forgive me.”

Her voice shook on the verge of tears. I didn’t say anything. I hate apologies. People only say sorry to make themselves feel better. Her apology couldn’t change anything and I would never forgive her.

As she walked away, the memory of that night we had spent just days before flashed before me. The warm feelings and then the cold. “Just try it, it’ll make you feel alive,” she had said. How could I resist with her insisting in my ear and that beautiful boy in my sights. And it was like floating. And we all floated together… Now we were at a funeral and it was her fault. The whole thing had been her idea and she would have to deal with the consequences.

And then they shut the coffin lid and I was alone. I sank lower, lower, lower into the ground and I wondered how I could ever rest in peace when nothing would ever really be resolved.