Lena woke up sweaty, to the sound of her doorbell’s chimes.
She had dreamed she was at Bryce Neary’s funeral, standing next to Rachel in the back of the hot room with cramping calves, listening to the organ drone. Her eyelids had been so heavy, but whenever she shut them, she could only see one thing: blood seeping onto pale skin.
Lena sat up in her bed, reached for the insulated cup by her bedside, took an icy gulp.
The dream had felt too realistic. The air in the nave had been so thick with overapplied perfume and now, almost fifteen years later, Lena could taste it, heavy and floral, in the back of her throat.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
It happened when Bryce’s college friend stood to recite that beautiful sad poem.
I am in the birds that sing—
Rachel’s wails drowned out his young voice. This is wrong, she cried. It’s wrong, what you did is so wrong.
The speaker stopped, uncertain.
Lena caught, a few rows ahead, strangers exchange a pointed look. That’s the daughter of the man who— A ripple of miscomprehension waved through the crowd.
They assumed Rachel was talking to Tim, but Lena had known that Rachel’s judgment was meant for her.
Lena leaned back against her pillow and took another sip of water. She closed her eyes and slowed down her breaths. Simple as they were, deep breaths helped.
You’ve gotten away with it, she reminded herself. You’re safe now.
Lena thought she functioned well, given the weight on her conscience. She did not abuse substances. She paid her bills on time. She was capable of making small talk, discerning the ghosts from reality. When life required it, she could drag herself onto a plane.
If she had a slight problem with online shopping, so what? She could afford it. Generosity was hardly a crime.
But in the beginning, in those empty days after Rachel left, Lena would wake up from similar dreams just like this—empty and parched—and not leave her bed for the entire day.
She couldn’t go back to that.
The doorbell rang again, its chime like an electric shock. Another wave of heat crashed through Lena. Little beads of sweat slickened the skin on her nose, upper arms, neck.
She bolted out of bed and to the window.
Annie’s car was parked in Lena’s driveway. Lena watched her hop inside it and zip back down the hill like she didn’t have a care in the world.
She had left something on the doorstep. Lena opened the front door and pulled her cleaned cake carrier inside, read the note on the envelope.
Thank you for coming last night! We loved having you! Hugs!
She ripped open the envelope.
Dear Lena,
Here is the invitation to my graduation. I really hope you can come.
Love,
Laurel
P.S. Thank you for being so nice to me last night.
Lena’s eyes filled with fat tears of relief. Their kindness felt like absolution.
It’s not. Rachel’s voice in her head was sharp as a tack. They have no idea what you are.
We all misjudged the deceased.
I think back to the November book club. I saw someone vulnerable and gentle.
A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Criminals are masters of deception, but to have been so easily manipulated?
Everyone feels duped. Everyone.