It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,79
to the waiting car at the curb.
I feel a familiar rush of comfort when I see Daniel. I know the weeks I was MIA in our friendship, the time I was hanging out with Felicity and her people, were hard on him and it’s always tense when we’re first around each other.
Daniel unlocks the door just as I touch the handle. I slip into the seat and stare straight ahead. There’s nothing left for us to say to each other that hasn’t already been said. We are beyond kind gestures and empty condolences. The only positive thing to come from Madeline’s death is that it has brought the two of us back together.
This morning, Daniel does what he does best. He distracts me from my pity by taking shots at the only person in the world I actually hate. “So,” he says as he pulls away from the curb, “what do you think Felicity is going to wear? Feather-skirted cocktail dress?”
I smile. It’s not quite a laugh, but better than I expect. “Don’t forget the plunging neckline and glitter stilettos.”
“Of course.” The corners of Daniel’s mouth turn up. Not enough to resemble a real smile, but enough to give me hope he will get there someday. “Did you know she actually called Madeline’s mom to see if she wanted her to speak at the service?”
My mouth gapes. Leave it to Felicity to think she could try to steal money from someone and still ask for a moment in the spotlight.
“You’re kidding,” I say in disgust. Then I remember how I almost became an accomplice in her scheme. How could I forget something like that? It must be shock.
“Not even a little. I was there when she called.”
I shake my head. “Does she really think the Quinns don’t know about the stunt she tried to pull?” We sit in silence for a while. Probably because we know this is about the point in the story where Madeline would jump in and tell us to be nice. Or maybe it’s because there’s really nothing worth joking about on a day like today.
“Do you have the letter?” he asks as the smile slips from his face.
My mind is asking, “What letter?” but I feel my head nod and my hand pat my purse.
“And you really think you can get through it without crying?”
I shake my head. What letter are we talking about, and why do I feel like I’ve been taken over by a body snatcher?
“Yeah, I can’t imagine what it will be like to carry the coffin, especially after you read her last words,” he admits. “To know she’s there, but not there, you know?”
Oh no. He’s talking about the letter Madeline left for me to read at her funeral. I’ve got to get it together. First, I forget that it’s the day of her burial and then I forget one of her final wishes. “She’ll be there,” I tell him absently. And in my heart, I believe the words I’m saying.
He hits the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. “Cut the crap, RJ. This is me. She won’t be there. She’ll never be there. Not ever.”
“Pull over,” I command, and, surprisingly, he does so without question.
The car shudders a little when he cuts the engine. I turn to him, ready to assume the role of Madeline’s best friend. “We have to get through this day. For her.”
“How?” he shoots back. “When the memorial is over and it’s just those who knew and loved her most at the graveside, how am I supposed to get through it? I thought someday I would be watching her walk down the aisle on our wedding day. Instead, I’m going to be rolling her down the aisle in a mahogany box. Tell me how I’m supposed to get through it.”
I sit back in surprise. “You never told me that.”
“What?”
“That you wanted to marry her.”
He scoffs. “Well, there were a lot of things we talked about while you were making up with Felicity and her clones.”
“Hey!” I cry as his words pierce my heart like an arrow. “You don’t get to be mean. Not to me, and not today.”
Immediately he looks like he regrets what he said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say with a sigh.
We sit in silence and wait for him to calm down enough to keep the car on the road. I can almost hear the minutes ticking away.