As It Was [Emily Prentiss]

Seven

The skies were a perfect Pixar blue and spotted with the occasional white cloud. It was a nice 62 degrees outside; perfect Spring weather: the sun wasn't too hot, and the breeze wasn't too cold. The leaves in the trees rustled above me, dappling the green grass with sunlight. I stood there as the sun shifted in the sky, the tree casting a shadow across the concrete head tomb and myself.

Beloved husband and father laid to rest
with loving wife and mother.
Survived by their daughter Rita.

"Until We Meet Again."

My mother had passed a little over two months ago in her sleep as she always hoped to go (she never wanted to say goodbye) and my father followed her a few weeks later during his late afternoon nap (a broken heart, the nurse said).

I heard gravel crunching beneath tires, a car door slamming closed, and then, after a few heartbeats, fingers slid between mine, her head resting on my shoulder. She smelled like cotton candy. She'd come straight from her set. "Did you call Emily?"

I shook my head, not speaking. My throat felt tight. I hadn't cried yet. That would come later over a large bowl of my dad's favorite Cookies and Cream ice cream with Elvis Presley crooning "There Will Be Peace in The Valley" from my dad's old record player.

Elizabeth sighed. "I'm sorry I'm late. Luke was having performance issues."

I shrugged. It didn't matter. She was here now.

"I bet it was a beautiful sermon. You did good, Rita. Do you need a ride home?"

"Please."

A few hours later, after Elizabeth had made sure I was as okay as I could be, and hours after I'd cried myself hoarse, there was a knock at my door. I sighed, burying deeper under the blanket nest I'd created for myself. My head was aching. My stomach was upset. Too much crying and too much ice cream. It was probably someone wanting to give their deepest regards. I didn't have it in me to entertain them.

The knocking paused, my ears listening for their retreating footsteps, but I heard nothing. Then the knocking continued.

When I peeked out the window, I was not at all surprised to find myself staring at the familiar face of Emily Prentiss. Her eyes met mine through the window. I couldn't hide from her. She knew me like the back of her hand. We'd talked twice a week since she'd left with the last two weeks being an exception (I'd been screening my calls ie: ignoring all of them). We weren't more than friends, but friends were better than her radio silence, and I'd said as much when she expressed that she'd be going on a date with one of her coworkers. 

("Why are you telling me this? You don't need my permission to date, Em."

"I know, but... I... you're my best friend, and I don't want that to change because I didn't-"

"Do they make you happy?"

"Yes, very."

"Then that's all I care about. I love you.")

I tossed my blankets aside and got to my feet. I pulled the door open, giving her a weak smile. Or maybe it was a grimace. She stood there with a large paper bag at one side and a go-bag on the other. I stepped aside, letting her in before closing and locking the door behind her. "Did Liz call you?"