Memories That Still Haunt Us

Chapter Fifty-Four:

I've only known death from a distance.

A boy from my school who was a senior while I was a freshman died in a drunk driving accident. I was at the same party as him, saw him from across the room as he filled up his solo cup. Watched as multiple people told him not to drive home. Proceeded to hear the next day through whispers and sullen teachers that he left the party, began driving the wrong way on the road, and hit a woman who had just flown into town to visit her family for Thanksgiving, killing them both instantly.

It was talked about for quite some time. Drunk driving was a hot topic at every assembly, and nearly every teacher gave a speech about it for two weeks straight. Then it became boring and no longer something to gossip about, and as with everything, it was forgotten. I remember thinking that all the clothes I own now will one day be thrown away or hung up in a thrift shop, all the houses I'll own in my life will eventually be lived in by a dozen people until eventually it'll be knocked down to make room for a business. All the cars I'll drive will be considered antique cars one day and left for someone to try to fix up or demolish. Anyone who ever knew me will die, and my name will disappear into the wind, forgotten with time, and it'll be as if I never existed. There will be no photos of me, as they were all taken on cellphones that were not properly backed up. It made me feel a bit relieved but also frustrated, wondering what the point of all of this actually is.

Now I think of Millie. How anything she might have created, anything she might have thought mattered, is going to vanish, just like her. Beck is so young that his memories of her will dwindle. He'll forget the sound of her voice. The way her skin felt when she held him. He'll forget her smell and the things that made her stand out among the other women in his life. As he gets older, he'll form ideas of her to make up for everything he's forgotten and everything she'll miss out on. He'll say to his future wife, to future friends, and to anyone who may ask that he barely remembers his mother, but he remembers faintly her red hair, the way she used to smile, and the presence of her that once lived in his childhood home. But he'll also remember, probably more vividly, the bad parts of her. The way she made him feel sad and unloved so often of the time. The heated arguments between his parents, seeing them screaming at one another, and feeling completely useless. He'll remember that she didn't love him enough to stay. That whatever her struggles were, they were big enough for her to jump off that bridge and end her life.

He'll have to carry this darkness around. This awkward response when people ask how his mother died, and he'll nervously tell them she killed herself, only to see the looks of shock and pity on everyone's faces. He'll hurry and add that he barely knew her, nor does he remember her much, as if that makes it any easier. Easier for people to swallow.

Millie had the dream life, and she threw it all away. Such a waste. She opened the door for another woman to swoop in and take everything she had built. To destroy her memory.

I nervously place a hand on Ellis's arm as he prepares to leave for the funeral. His Adams apple bobs as he swallows. He shoulders himself into his black suit, and I'm in awe over how stunning he looks.

Beck is struggling to put on his shoes, and I crouch down on the floor to help him. Beck sniffles, but I don't ask him if he's crying. I don't want to be the cause of his bursting out into tears. The house is horribly quiet. It has been since the policemen came by the house. Ellis has been in a state of shock. Numb and lifeless. Barely saying a word. He's been disappearing to work for long hours, leaving me to awkwardly care for Beck.

We haven't spoken about Millie or what's happened. Just sat in silence with one another. Even Beck hardly speaks. It's as if none of us want to be the ones to talk first and question what happened.