Darker Shades of Fear

(Installment 25)

When the day begins to break like the tears that run across your cheek
Stand straight and imagine you then in the things and the way they could have been
When the thoughts they race across your chin
Here in the Neverend

* * *

He stood in silence at the back of the church, his head bowed out more out of awkwardness and shame than reverence, but regret just the same. Perfectly camouflaged in a black suit, he studied his shoes and tried to remember the last time he’d worn one of these things. Finally he concluded that this was the first and only occasion the attire had been necessary for.

People were crying all around him. Tears streamed down the faces of her parents. Her sister had to leave the church halfway through the mass. A similar expression of loss and grief was evident on everyone. He’d never been to a funeral before, and he was certain that he never would again. As the low, grim melody began on the shrill church organ, he looked up and watched the procession of a sleek, mahogany casket and an assortment of others behind it.

‘She wouldn’t have wanted this’ he thought to himself. She’d always been such a vivacious woman… she’d probably be gagging at the sight of this ridiculous spectacle. She wouldn’t have wanted it to be a big deal. She would have choked at the sight of such dark colors and the coldness of it all would have made her sick.

What she would have probably preferred was a small, informal burial. Friends and family would cry undoubtedly, but they would have been much more willing to let her go in the same warm way she would always remember them. The screeching organ, ornate casket, black veils and shined black shoes, cold faces and even colder weather, gray clouds and preaching sermons… they were all distractions. She had always been so simple. It seemed like such a joke.

“In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our sister Leah Ann Darrow; and we commit her body to the ground; earth to earth; ashes to ashes; dust to dust. The Lord bless her and keep her, the Lord make his face to shine upon her and be gracious unto her and grant her peace. Amen.”

He gripped his fists tightly as he listened to the priest proclaim the burial rite. He watched through slightly blurred eyes as her friends and family made their way and each placed a single red rose on the casket and couldn’t help but feel a terrible sadness rising inside of him. That gaping wound she’d left in his life had reopened and began to bleed profusely. Bitterness formed in the pit of his stomach, an intense hate rekindled toward the man in police custody for her murder.

He’d watched the arraignment, one face blending easily into the crowd. He had a smug expression, refusing to hang his head or even utter an apology. He’d gone so far as to spit at the crowd and Kenny would have killed him right there in front of the authorities and the throng of people present, but he found himself without a weapon and snapping his neck would have been too painless. He vowed to go through with it as soon as he got the chance, but with the funeral and him being in jail and all, he hadn’t had the time.

You’re just doing to him what he did to Leah.

‘You said it yourself,’ he replied, ‘I’m a killer.’

Why can’t you just let him suffer in prison?

‘Did he look like he was suffering to you?’

That’s no reason to reenact a Quentin Tarintino torture scene.

‘I beg to differ.’

What else is new?

He tried to subdue the rage he knew was steadily building. He was pleading ‘not guilty’ and they’d found his fingerprints all over the scene.

It’s because you know that you’d be doing the same thing if you ever got caught.

He squeezed his fists tighter and cursed the voice away, too confused and angst-ridden to continue an argument against himself.

When he took notice of his surroundings, he was surprised to find everyone had gone, save the few talking by their cars. Her casket had been abandoned and only he remained. He shook his head in disgust and moved toward it with an uncharacteristic timidness. He was close enough to read her gray marble headstone screaming:

LEAH ANN DARROW

Beloved Daughter, Dear Friend

And that was all. The only thing that remained was “beloved daughter, dear friend”. No mention of her smile, her unwavering optimism. Her overwhelming love for this world, as horrible and filthy as it was and her compassion toward everyone stuck on this miserable planet. She was so much more than could be engraved in a piece of stone and the world that she’d loved so much deserved to know that.

He was crying now, that was one thing he was certain of. He really hadn’t cried much over it, just gone full-blown maniacal. With a shaking limb (that was odd, he hadn’t even noticed he was shaking), he dropped his rose onto her casket and with it fell a few droplets of red. Curious as to what it was, he lifted his hand, the same one still healing from the mirror incident. He saw tiny holes in his palm and streaks of red streaming from them.

“Sorry about that… I guess I held the stem too tight…”

He just stood awkwardly, confused and overwhelmed. Minutes passed, but it felt like only seconds before he opened his eyes. The gray marble stared back, hard and cold, but he took immediate notice that he wasn’t alone. There was a woman, a small brunette standing a few feet away from him, focused on the same headstone that had been his previous observation. She had a certain strangeness about her, but that might have been due to the fact that she was wearing a light shade of pink – the only trace of color in the vicinity. Without turning her eyes from the scenery, she spoke.

“It’s all quite ridiculous, don’t you think?”

He wasn’t sure if she was addressing him, but observing that there was no one else present, he decided to reply with a nod as to not make an ass of himself.

She nodded in response as if noting his own, still facing away. Had he not been so exhausted he might have slowly backed away from the small woman.

“Did you know her?” He asked, “I don’t remember seeing you at the funeral.”

“I wasn’t there.” She replied, a smile in her voice. “But I did know her.”

“Oh.” He said, “Were you close?”

She sighed, “I made her everything she is.”

“Was.” Kenny reminded.

“Tense is a funny thing, isn’t it?”

“What?”

She sighed. “Someone once told me that you’re never really dead as long as you’re alive in someone’s heart.”

“Idealistic.”

“Maybe.”

“It doesn’t bring her back.”

“Nothing will.” She reminded, “Then again, comfort’s for the living.”

“What?”

“Well, she certainly doesn’t need it.” The woman explained, then for the first time turning to meet his confused face, “Wherever she is, she doesn’t need our comfort. She’s not in pain, we are. When you think about it, this is really Hell. But you’re not into that religious crap so I won’t waste my time.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“How about deus ex machina?” She asked.

He stared blankly.

“I could be God. You’d never know it.”

He just sighed.

“Never mind. It was a weak joke anyway.” The woman said.

He understood neither what she’d just said, nor the woman herself and had no desire to. He just turned away and walked off wanting nothing more than a long shower and a heavy drink.

He hadn’t managed either of his goals since leaving the cemetery. Instead, he found himself walking idly, ignoring the pain in his feet on account of the uncomfortable formal shoes. He no doubt looked ridiculous. That morning his reflection had provided a very strange feeling of constraint. He was an impostor in this suit, wearing the uniform of a respectable, well-earned gentleman. He disgraced the attire simply by trying it on.

By now, his tie was undone, the shirt collar unbuttoned and the garment itself had come untucked as well. His jacket was open, a shoelace untied. None of it really bothered Kenny all that much. He continued to drift through the streets, completely detached from everything going on around him. This state of apathy was nothing new, with the exception of this being grief-induced whereas his previous nonchalance was more an indifference than anything.

When he finally stopped walking, he was surprised as to where he ended up. He should have really expected it, but his previous daze had left him easy to shock and this definitely found his vulnerability.

He stood outside her apartment building and stared up at it, searching for the window of what had once been Leah’s home. It was so much more than a structure. It was a safe-haven, a place where nothing could touch either of them. It was something real.

He felt the urge to reach out toward it, but stopped himself just as he began to raise his hand. The gesture would be pointless and blatantly symbolic of something that had been overly stated already.

What had he expected, really? Where did he see their relationship going? He sighed, remembering that the stupid voice in his head had posed the same question weeks before.

“Well, what did you expect?” it had asked him. “That she would fix you? Make you all normal again so the two of you could live together in domestic bliss? Did you really think that she could make you happy? You’d get a real job in a real neighborhood where Leah could stay home and raise your five children?”

He didn’t know, but he was certain that he would have preferred any alternative to this. Yes, it was cliché and horribly so, but he couldn’t say he minded the hypothetical scenario, as out-of-character as it sounded. There was something about her, something that had changed him – or at least for the time being. She filled his needs, took the place of everything he’d missed, and now she was gone.

“Why me?” He asked no one in particular, though he knew the answer. It had been his doing. He was the one who showed up at her door even against his better judgment. And he had stayed. Against his instincts, he’d remained there and done exactly what he was always certain to avoid. He’d become attached, anchored to a location and more significantly, to her.

But that was over. There was no more, and there never would be. He sighed, taking one last look at the building, and couldn’t help but notice how empty it felt without her.

When he finally arrived at the bar, he was surprised to find it almost empty. He took his usual seat and waited until the bartender appeared again. A glass was set in front of him and Kenny wasted no time in drinking it. He repeated this process another four times, and then held his head in his hands.

“I don’t know how you did it.” He mumbled.

“What?” the bartender asked.

“How you, when your wife died, how did you, what did you do?”

“A lot of what you’re doing.” He replied, pouring another glass. “It took a lot of time, but eventually things will go back to the way they were.”

“I don’t want things to be the way they were!” He cried out, “I can’t go back… I’ve got nothing to go back to.”

“… If I could suggest anything,” the bartender began tentatively and took the silence as a sign to continue, “it would be to get the hell out of here.”

“And go where?” He asked.

“You’ve got talent, and from what I’ve seen you’ve got some money. Leave this shit behind and start over.”

Start over. That was funny. He was too far-gone for such an idealistic notion. To pick up the shards of a life he didn’t remember and piece them back together in hopes of establishing some kind of normalcy… it was what he’d begun to do with Leah. He hadn’t noticed until now the significance of their time together. His last chance was gone, in a mocking reminder of what he would always be.

“Kenny?” The bartender asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Sorry… I was just thinking.”

The man behind the bar nodded, absentmindedly cleaning the countertop.

Kenny sighed, throwing a few loose bills onto the bar as he stood up, “Keep the change.”

As he made his way out, the bartender called out to him, “Listen,” he said, “just be grateful for the time you had her. Something I learned over the years.”

He didn’t turn around, but acknowledged the advice nonetheless.

He stepped outside and lit a cigarette, thinking that he should probably be going back to that annoying hotel room he’d rented. He hadn’t totally listened to his own advice and had broken several glass items that had been in his line of vision at the time. He was forced to reimburse the hotel for the damages, but he didn’t really care or he would have left already.

Sighing, he deposited a quarter into the vending machine and got himself a copy of the day’s paper. He had decided against reading it on the street and waited until he’d reached the hotel to do so. It was a wise decision on his part, because the inside story would have probably caused whatever sanity remained to snap. But in the privacy of his own hotel room, he was able to contain himself when he read the news.

Killer Freed on Million-Dollar Bail