Bring Me Back

She shakes her head. “Your father and I will be in the car.”

I sit there until everyone’s gone. I need one last moment alone with him. This is all I’m going to get for the rest of my life.

Make it count.

I stand and touch my fingers to the cool dark wood of the casket. I pluck one of the flowers from the overflowing bunch with my free hand and twirl it between my fingers.

There are so many things I want to say. My mind is overflowing with an overabundance of words and I can’t seem to grasp any of them. I don’t think there’s any way to try to convey my thoughts and feelings.

“Oh, Ben.” I choke on a sob and wipe at my tears. “What has become of us?” My fingers tremble against the wood. “How did things end up like this? We’re good people, right? What did we do to deserve this?” I cry. “It hasn’t even been a week yet and I miss you so much. My heart aches, Ben. I never thought heartache was a real thing, but it is and it sucks.” I wipe at my face and groan, trying to hold myself together. “You are the love of my life—dead or alive that hasn’t changed. Your mom says I’ll move on, but she’s wrong. Most people are lucky if they find one ever-lasting love. I don’t think you can find two.” I can feel the anger building inside me once again, but I stamp it down. I don’t want to be angry right now. Not in my last moments with Ben. I shove my fingers through my hair. It’s neatly curled, but that’s not my doing. My mom forced me to let her do my hair this morning. I think she was afraid I’d show up at the funeral in my pajamas and bed-head if she didn’t help me.

“I hope, that up there in heaven—because I know that’s where you are—that you can hear me, and you know that I love you. I love you so damn much.” I shake my head. “That love isn’t going to fade because of death. You’re going to live on forever, right here.” I touch my fingers to my heart like he’s there to see. “I love you, Ben. Now and forever and always.”

I open my purse—some small clutch-type thing—and pull out a paper crane.

I laugh a little—it’s the first time I’ve laughed since the accident. “I

finally made one of my own.” I set the bird amidst the flowers. I kiss my fingers and touch them to the casket. “I love you,” I say one last time.

And then the sky opens up and it pours.

I believe that the rain stinging my cheeks is kisses from Ben. He’s here. He’ll always be here.

Stage One: Denial

It’s been three days since Ben’s funeral, and I still don’t believe it actually happened. It’s like I’ve shut down—gone into zombie mode or something.

My mom sets a plate of food in front of me. I stare at the rubbery eggs and greasy bacon.

Ben.

Ben’s going to walk in the door any minute from work and tell me this is all a big joke. Ha, ha! Got you! I’m not really dead but now I know how much you really love me!

On some logical level I know that’s not going to happen, but denial has set in and I’m holding onto it with a strong-handled grip.

“You need to eat, Blaire.” My mom pulls out the seat beside me and crosses her arms on the table. She leans her head down, looking at me with eyes the same color as my own, only hers are now lined with wrinkles in the corners from laughing so much. “Please, B. Eat something. You’re getting too thin.”

I shake my head. I know I should eat, I know my body needs it, but I don’t feel any sort of hunger, and the thought of eating makes me feel like vomiting.

She sighs.

From the family room, my dad says, “Leave the girl alone, Maureen. She needs time.”

I can tell he’s watching a football game and I cringe. If Ben was here Ben would be watching it with him.

Ben loves football.

Loved. Ben loved football.

Because he’s dead and can’t love things anymore.

I can feel my throat closing in.

No, no. I refuse to believe he’s gone. I can’t imagine a world without Ben in it. It doesn’t seem right that the world lost someone as kind and bright as him, while the drunk driver who murdered him gets to walk free. That’s how I look at it—murder. Cold-blooded murder. That person drank, knew they shouldn’t drive, and got behind the wheel anyway. They didn’t care who they hurt. The man’s tried to talk to me, to apologize—I guess—but I never even want to see his face. If I did I’m pretty sure I’d try to claw it off. I have no sympathy for that man, and he can carry the guilt of this for the rest of his life because he deserves that. He deserves to be punished just like me.

“Blaire?” my mom says. “Just one bite.” I shake my head. She sighs and forks some eggs onto the spoon. “Open up.”

I bat her hand away and the eggs fall on the floor. “I’m not a baby, mom. I don’t want to eat.”