It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,78
drawing out the word so she knows how strange she’s acting.
I watch as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her eyes are misty and she looks like she’s about to burst into tears. “I just wanted to make sure you were ready for today.”
What is she talking about? Why would she care? It’s another crappy school day. A nagging feeling creeps in from somewhere deep inside. There’s something I should be remembering, but whatever it is, my mind is fuzzy. I look back at the dress. Yellow. That means something, doesn’t it? I’m drawing a blank and my head feels like there’s a cage match raging inside. “I think I’m good,” I finally answer, filling a glass with water and choking down two pain killers.
She gives me a quick nod. “I fixed your shoes up, just like you asked.” She pauses, waiting for something.
Why would I ask her to fix my shoes?
“Um, thanks,” I finally mutter.
Tears begin to well up in her eyes before they stream down her face. She reaches out and pulls me into a hug so tight I’m pretty sure at least one, if not both, of my lungs collapses. When she finally releases me, I tighten my towel and give her a little smile. What is her deal? Unless she … oh no … did Dad find out about the affair? Is that why she’s so weepy? Is he leaving her? Is he leaving me with her?
I watch as she wipes her eyes before giving my arm a light squeeze and whispers, “I love you so much.”
Crap. He knows.
“I love you, too,” I say. She smiles and finally starts to leave my room. “Do you want a ride to school or is Daniel picking you up?”
“I’m good,” I assure her, wondering why in the world Daniel would be picking me up. We haven’t hung out in months. Or have we? There’s that fuzzy feeling in my brain again.
Without warning, my head begins to spin and I have to sit down on the toilet to keep from throwing up. Once the nausea passes, I pick up the dress and consider hiding it in the back of my closet. The very thought conjures a strong negative reaction. For whatever reasons, I need to wear it. As the soft material slips over my body and the folds fall into place, so do my memories. I remember why I’m wearing yellow. My stomach lurches and I race to the toilet just in time for the pills to come back up.
Today is Madeline’s funeral. And the reason Daniel is picking me up is to take me to the memorial they’re having at school. The entire town will be there, including my mother. As for the unseasonable outfit, that was Madeline’s rule. Everyone attending her service had to wear yellow.
How could I forget? It’s not like every moment of the last four days hasn’t been spent planning her service. Or crying in private. Or hating God.
On the floor sits a pair of black heels with yellow daisy clips. Daisies are, or were, Madeline’s favorite flowers. After slipping them on, I finish getting ready in silence. Just as I’m putting the finishing touches on my makeup, the phone rings.
“Hello?” I answer, my voice echoing in my ears.
“Hey.” Daniel’s voice is flat without a trace of his trademark laughter. “You ready?”
“Yep.” And by yep, I mean nope. Who can ever be ready to bury her friend?
“Okay.”
I grab my purse and don’t even stop for one last look to make sure I appear perfectly composed. This day is going to suck and no amount of mascara is going to change that. As I walk out the front door, my mother calls out, “We’ll be there soon!”
I turn to answer but stop as I notice my father helping her with the clasp of her necklace. When he’s done, he kisses Mom lightly on the head and she turns around, letting him pull her into a protective embrace.
Maybe he doesn’t know about her betrayal. Or maybe he does and the thought of attending the funeral of his daughter’s best friend is making them push that aside for now. After all, they aren’t the ones putting their kid in the ground. This thought strikes me as ironic, but as soon as the idea enters my brain, the fuzzy hum starts up again. Whatever’s going on, I don’t have time for it. I shut the door softly, trying not to interrupt their moment, and walk