Ithad been Kylie’s idea; pulling at my hand until I followed her away from herfamily. I felt like an inconsiderate asshole, and I could only imagine what herfamily was thinking about the guy she had brought to one of the saddestoccasions of their lives. But I followed her nonetheless without complaint,because I was there for her, not them.
Pastthe smattering of trees was an open field, bathed in warm sunlight and cleanair. The tall blades of grass swayed in the gentle breeze, and there, pokingthrough the bright wisps of green, were hundreds, maybe even thousands, ofdaisies.
Thesymbolism hit me immediately, and I dropped her hand to stare, startled andjust a little spooked. But Kylie was too blinded by her mind-numbing grief andshe kept her pace, walking into the field, while I hung back.
Mylungs froze, and it took two gasps to get them working again.All ofthose flowers, brushing up against her ankles andcalves as she walked through. They bowed in the gentle breeze as if to sayhello, and I scrubbed a hand over my chin as I watched her sit down and tip herface toward the sky.
Iwalked out to meet her, and as I sat down on the grass, I silently apologizedto any daisies I might have crushed under my weight.
“It’sa nice day,” she said quietly.
Inodded. “Yeah, it is.”
Itfelt odd to talk about something like the fucking weather after the days I’djust lived through. It felt unnatural to even care if it was raining or if thesun was shining, when this girl’s father was being lowered into the ground. Howcould any day be considered nice after that?
“Mydad used to like going for walks on days like this,” she said. She had talkedabout her father more in those few days than she ever had in the two years I’dknown her.
“Ohyeah?”
Sheleaned herself back, laying on the grass and flowers. “Yeah,” she said, noddingwith her hands clasped over her chest. “When I was a kid, we lived by thebeach. We’d go for walks and I’d chase seagulls or collect shells, while hejust sat on the sand and watched me.”
Ismiled. “Sounds nice.”
“Yeah,”she whispered, her voice wrapped tightly inside her crushing sorrow. “It was.”
Ilooked down at her. Her eyes were closed, her mouth in a tight straight line.With her hands folded over her chest, over her black dress, I was struck withthe briefest image of her father’s body, lying in the satin-lined casket.Mahogany and white. Painted and plastic, too fake to be real, and I shudderedat the thought. At the thought of her being likethat.Gone.
Ilooked away, lying back with the shoulder of my suit jacket brushing againsther. I listened to the rustling of grass as she turned toward me, her eyesopen, and her fingers nudged my hand. I opened it to her, engulfing her palm inmine.
“’Theboundaries which divide Life and Death are at best shadowy and vague,’” shequoted in a whisper.
Iknew it was Poe. It was always Poe. The dark and beautiful poetry from themaster of the macabre, I guess, brought her comfort. Though I failed to seehow. His words were grim, and although they were brilliantly prolific, theyalso served as the cold reminder of reality, and where was the beauty in that?
Or,maybe that’s exactly why she liked him so much. Maybe he shone a beautifullight onto something so dark and grisly. Maybe that’s how she survived.
“Dev?”she asked, breaking the chatter in my brain.
Iblinked into the sunlight. “Yeah?”
“CanI ask you a question?”
Irolled my head against the ground, looked toward her, and our eyes, our mouths,were only inches apart. I scolded myself for taking a quick glance at her lips,glossy and a modest shade of pearlescent pink. This wasn’t the time nor theplace to be dwelling on feelings that weren’t going away, but fuck, I couldn’tseem to help my wandering brain. Kissing her had gone from something Iwantedto do, to something I so desperatelyneeded. So much so, I could feelthe magnetic pull against my lips every time I was near her. My restraint wasimpressive, albeit pathetic, but I found myself wondering then, what wouldhappen if I edged just a little closer and brushed my mouth lightly againsthers.
Ishook the thought away, remembering that she had spoken, and I forced a lightsmile. “Of course.”
“Doyou believe in Heaven?”
Mydesire to kiss her was quashed and I stared into her prismatic eyes.
Thequestion left me a little shaken and discomforted, yet I understood. Iunderstood her need for clarification, for wanting the assurance that herfather was still somewhere out there. Close, but now, never close enough.
“Yes,”I said, without hesitation, and a cheesy line blinked through my brain:Didit hurt? When you fell from Heaven?
Shesmiled weakly. “That’s good,” and she looked away. She swallowed hard, once andthen again, and she sniffled toward the sky.
“Hey,”I said, squeezing her hand, and she turned back to me.
“Ijust … I can’t, Dev,” she said, shaking her head, her eyes brimming with tears.“I can’t believe in something like that when something likethiscanhappen to good people. My dad was a good person, Devin. Even despite all thisshit. He was hardworking, he managed to keep a roof over our heads … He was agood fucking person!”
