PAULA
Friday, October 11, 2013
I intend to leave the house at ten twenty so I can make it on time to Charlotte and Josh´s funeral, which is at eleven. It saddens me that they are no longer in this world, and looking at myself in the mirror, I remember last night´s dream. In the dream, Josh and Charlotte appeared to me, holding hands. They stared at me and laughed. Then their figures faded into vapor as they walked down a foggy, dark tunnel.
The bags under my eyes give me away. They announce to the world that I haven`t been sleeping well. Matthew isn´t at home and I sincerely doubt he slept here. His side on the bed shows no sign of use.
I think about her. Her false smile, her fake friendship. I think about the day I met Matthew, while holding hands with Josh. I think about how deeply I love my husband.
I have looked and looked for my wedding ring, it should be under the bed, but it isn´t.
Up until two days ago, I thought everything was going fine; that Matthew and I were a perfect couple. I can´t pin point the moment when things changed, everything changed. It`s almost as if Josh´s death was some kind of curse. He is dead and I am cursed. Is that possible?
I walk into the bathroom to apply some make-up. As I apply some mascara on lashes, a strange breeze fills the room. It startles me and I turn to look behind me. There´s no one there, but I feel someone is watching me. «Paula, you are going nuts, girl». I look at the mirror again and Josh is behind me. His neck is cut in half, it has a deep cleft from which blood flows continuously and his blue eyes reflect the same madness they did the last time I saw them, when he wanted to force himself on me on top of the copy machine. I´m paralyzed; I close my eyes tightly and when I open them again Josh´s ghost is no longer there. I´m still in shock, unable to believe what my eyes have seen. I´ve never believed in ghosts. But I believe in broken souls, souls that stay with us hungering for vengeance.
Trying to disregard the fear in my body and struggling to control the trembling in my hands, I haphazardly roll the mascara on my lashes and leave the house at ten fifteen, earlier than I planned. I will be one of the first at the funeral.
Through my tear-filled eyes, I look into the depth of the graves that seems to go on forever. Meanwhile, the preacher prays for the souls of Josh and Charlotte. I can hear moans and groans and whimpers. Whispers speaking of the dead, praising them, lamenting their untimely demise, talking about their lost youth.
Charlotte´s father, the man with the white beard I saw beside her at the office, kneels beside his daughter´s grave. It seems he is now alone in the world. I know what that´s like, to be broken hearted.
In my mind´s eye, I see Josh´s body inside the coffin and suddenly I´m unable to breathe.
It wasn´t a couple of dates and a one night stand. It was much more, it was my addiction, my desire, my life, my love.
At a distance, detective Tischmann observes the scene, partially hidden by a tree. He observes us all, hoping to find amongst those who attended the funeral, the one who killed Josh.
I too am searching discretely, but I can´t find the culprit. There´s no one with a hateful glower signaling ´It was me, I killed him´.
I have also been observing people´s hands, not everyone´s as there are over three hundred attendees, but I haven´t been able to detect anyone with superficial wounds that might have been caused by the broken glass of the partition. There is no hand strong enough to break the thick glass and remain unscathed.
“It´s so sad.” Whispers Lisa, as she moves beside me.
“I hadn´t seen you.” I reply, glancing sideways at her.
“There are a lot of people. But, you know? How many of them really loved Josh?” She asks thoughtfully.
I did. I love him. Or at least I loved him.
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