Made for You
Page 43
“What if he’s here?” I ask.
“Who?”
“The man who did this to her . . . and to me.”
Grace and Nate are both silent for a moment, but then she says, “We don’t even know if it’s the same person.”
“It has to be,” I insist.
No one replies.
Nate continues pushing me up the path in silence. As we get closer, I can see the awning that covers the rows of folding chairs and the coffin. There are so many flowers that even though we’re outside the smell is cloying.
It’s like an audible ripple when we get near. Even with the veil over my face, there’s no doubt who I am. If the broken leg didn’t give it away, Grace’s presence would. No one approaches us, but there are more than a few surreptitious glances. I’m grateful for the veil. Even without my healing cuts and bruises, I’d still feel uncomfortable at the way people are watching us.
When we reach the chairs, Grace pulls one back to sit beside me, but Nate stays standing like a sentinel behind me until I whisper, “Get a chair, please.”
Mutely, he pulls a second chair back so he’s on my left side. The two of them have flanked me, and we’re in the back of the crowd. I feel like this is as unobtrusive as I could possibly be, but still there are furtive glances.
Nate doesn’t touch me, and neither does Grace. I suspect his reserve is a combination of worry over my reputation and habit in public. Grace’s distance seems odd until I realize that I’d told her that being touched causes the death visions. She’s likely just being cautious.
I reach out and take both of their hands. Nate startles a little at my touch, but I grip his hand tightly so he can’t pull away. He knew Micki, and no one else here is going to remember to offer him any comfort. Grace might not have been friends with her, but she’s had more than a little worry the past couple weeks because of the person who—I believe—did this to Micki and to me.
We are still sitting like that, with me holding a hand on either side, when the service begins, and we stay that way through the whole thing. My hands tighten on theirs when they lower Micki’s coffin into the ground, but I don’t cry out loud. I can’t here. Despite all the tears I’ve cried lately, today my face is dry.
Afterward, when people are starting to leave, I wish I could run away. They mean well, but as my classmates come toward me, I feel trapped. I don’t ever like to be the center of attention. I reach up to be sure the veil still hides my face.
“Oh my God, Eva! Are you okay?” Piper half breathes the words. “I didn’t know you were out of the hospital!”
She’s reaching out to hug me, but Nate grabs her arms before she can touch me. He raises his voice a little so the others who are now clustering near us can hear him. “Please don’t touch Eva. She still has injuries.”
No one responds, but I see several people eyeing him and me like they are figuring out some juicy tidbit. Before he can say anything else—like the fact that he’s there as a job—I say, “Thank you, Nate.”
“I should’ve thought of that,” Piper says awkwardly. “I’m sorry, Eva. I just missed you.” She motions around her. “We all did.”
I can tell she’s hurt that she didn’t know I was home, so I reach out and squeeze her hand. “I missed you too. Luckily, I slept constantly, so it was easier for me.”
Nate snorts. Piper smiles at me though, and I see that she believes my little lie. Nothing about this was easy, but I’m here with my friends and I know what they want me to say. They want assurances that everything is fine, so I give it to them. “I’m doing better. Still a little beat up from the accident, and you know”—I gesture at my leg—“a broken bone, but I’m fine.”
“Do you remember us?” Lisa Mitchell asks from where she stands behind a few people. “I heard you had amnesia.”
“Just about the accident itself.” I smile at her, but realize that between the veil and the distance she probably can’t tell that I’m smiling.
Robert speaks up then. “Did you decide if you’re coming to the funeral breakfast?”
He moves to the front of the crowd of about ten people who are still standing here all around me. He lowers his voice as if he’s trying to be confidential, but he’s clearly not because his words are a lie. “Sorry I couldn’t bring you today. I’d already offered to take a couple people. I could give you a ride to the breakfast if you want. They could ride with Grace and Bouchet.”
Everyone is staring at us, and I want to hit him. I won’t. The cemetery is no place for violence. I can see the pleading in his eyes, the request not to embarrass him, but I’m not going to cooperate. If he had avoided putting me more in the spotlight, I could’ve let it go. He didn’t though. This isn’t what friends do.
“We broke up, Robert. Why would I want to ride with you?”
He opens his mouth, but before he speaks, I say, “Don’t. Not here. Not now.”
He turns and walks away. Everyone else stares at me silently. The already awkward moment grows unbearably tense, and I’m grateful for the veil shrouding my expression—and my scars.
“Piper, could you do me a favor?”
“Of course!”
“Tomorrow or something, come see me.” I reach for her hand again. “I’ve missed everyone.”
I realize as I say it that it’s true. They’re not perfect, but neither am I. They are my friends though, and if there is a killer out there, I don’t want him taking any more of them from me.
“Who?”
“The man who did this to her . . . and to me.”
Grace and Nate are both silent for a moment, but then she says, “We don’t even know if it’s the same person.”
“It has to be,” I insist.
No one replies.
Nate continues pushing me up the path in silence. As we get closer, I can see the awning that covers the rows of folding chairs and the coffin. There are so many flowers that even though we’re outside the smell is cloying.
It’s like an audible ripple when we get near. Even with the veil over my face, there’s no doubt who I am. If the broken leg didn’t give it away, Grace’s presence would. No one approaches us, but there are more than a few surreptitious glances. I’m grateful for the veil. Even without my healing cuts and bruises, I’d still feel uncomfortable at the way people are watching us.
When we reach the chairs, Grace pulls one back to sit beside me, but Nate stays standing like a sentinel behind me until I whisper, “Get a chair, please.”
Mutely, he pulls a second chair back so he’s on my left side. The two of them have flanked me, and we’re in the back of the crowd. I feel like this is as unobtrusive as I could possibly be, but still there are furtive glances.
Nate doesn’t touch me, and neither does Grace. I suspect his reserve is a combination of worry over my reputation and habit in public. Grace’s distance seems odd until I realize that I’d told her that being touched causes the death visions. She’s likely just being cautious.
I reach out and take both of their hands. Nate startles a little at my touch, but I grip his hand tightly so he can’t pull away. He knew Micki, and no one else here is going to remember to offer him any comfort. Grace might not have been friends with her, but she’s had more than a little worry the past couple weeks because of the person who—I believe—did this to Micki and to me.
We are still sitting like that, with me holding a hand on either side, when the service begins, and we stay that way through the whole thing. My hands tighten on theirs when they lower Micki’s coffin into the ground, but I don’t cry out loud. I can’t here. Despite all the tears I’ve cried lately, today my face is dry.
Afterward, when people are starting to leave, I wish I could run away. They mean well, but as my classmates come toward me, I feel trapped. I don’t ever like to be the center of attention. I reach up to be sure the veil still hides my face.
“Oh my God, Eva! Are you okay?” Piper half breathes the words. “I didn’t know you were out of the hospital!”
She’s reaching out to hug me, but Nate grabs her arms before she can touch me. He raises his voice a little so the others who are now clustering near us can hear him. “Please don’t touch Eva. She still has injuries.”
No one responds, but I see several people eyeing him and me like they are figuring out some juicy tidbit. Before he can say anything else—like the fact that he’s there as a job—I say, “Thank you, Nate.”
“I should’ve thought of that,” Piper says awkwardly. “I’m sorry, Eva. I just missed you.” She motions around her. “We all did.”
I can tell she’s hurt that she didn’t know I was home, so I reach out and squeeze her hand. “I missed you too. Luckily, I slept constantly, so it was easier for me.”
Nate snorts. Piper smiles at me though, and I see that she believes my little lie. Nothing about this was easy, but I’m here with my friends and I know what they want me to say. They want assurances that everything is fine, so I give it to them. “I’m doing better. Still a little beat up from the accident, and you know”—I gesture at my leg—“a broken bone, but I’m fine.”
“Do you remember us?” Lisa Mitchell asks from where she stands behind a few people. “I heard you had amnesia.”
“Just about the accident itself.” I smile at her, but realize that between the veil and the distance she probably can’t tell that I’m smiling.
Robert speaks up then. “Did you decide if you’re coming to the funeral breakfast?”
He moves to the front of the crowd of about ten people who are still standing here all around me. He lowers his voice as if he’s trying to be confidential, but he’s clearly not because his words are a lie. “Sorry I couldn’t bring you today. I’d already offered to take a couple people. I could give you a ride to the breakfast if you want. They could ride with Grace and Bouchet.”
Everyone is staring at us, and I want to hit him. I won’t. The cemetery is no place for violence. I can see the pleading in his eyes, the request not to embarrass him, but I’m not going to cooperate. If he had avoided putting me more in the spotlight, I could’ve let it go. He didn’t though. This isn’t what friends do.
“We broke up, Robert. Why would I want to ride with you?”
He opens his mouth, but before he speaks, I say, “Don’t. Not here. Not now.”
He turns and walks away. Everyone else stares at me silently. The already awkward moment grows unbearably tense, and I’m grateful for the veil shrouding my expression—and my scars.
“Piper, could you do me a favor?”
“Of course!”
“Tomorrow or something, come see me.” I reach for her hand again. “I’ve missed everyone.”
I realize as I say it that it’s true. They’re not perfect, but neither am I. They are my friends though, and if there is a killer out there, I don’t want him taking any more of them from me.
