Graveside Manners

Chapter Four: Priorities

We were trekking though the wilderness at this point. It was so dark and wet and so utterly miserable that I imagined Tim Burton lurking about somewhere jumping up and down in near excitement and joy at our desolate surroundings. That man had issues .

I officially hated hospitals. Hated them. Wankers.

I mean I hated them before , but now I hate them more. Almost as much as I hated awkwardness and the part of the day where I have nowhere to be and nothing to do , so all I have is my nightmares and my own crazy pent up angst .Come to think of it. I should probably ask Liam if he really tried to kill himself because of his own personal angst, or if that was a lie as well.

I didn't really know how to approach the topic , though. I couldn't just blurt out, 'Tell me why you pretend killed yourself?'

It wasn't normal. Then again, none of this is normal. I wince as I stub my toe on another rock. That's right. A rock. And we are still in the hospital. Just some weird basement extension. No one had said a word to me, but there was a lot of whispering going on and not so conspicuous glances in my direction. Green eyes over there kept watching me. Like I was gonna jump him, or something. As if.

Okay. Maybe I thought about it, but what healthy straight gal wouldn't. An unhealthy one, that's right. One that probably needs to go find a dark cupboard and plain, sort out her shit. I mean, life. No. I really did mean shit, but I'm trying to be positive. Lord only knows, I need positive right now.

It would have been pitch dark, but Mattie and Nicki had these super bright flashlights to lead the way, and Liam was up ahead, playing leader with Captain Hostility who kept looking back at me with obvious curiosity and wariness. Lori and blonde Barbie and her bedazzled knife weren't too far behind me, taking up the rear. I still couldn't believe her and the twins were here. I kept expecting someone else to turn up back from the dead, and after a while, I figured it was too much to hope. I'd just be disappointed.

Dead people freaked me out. As was evident by my recent trip to the hospital's morgue to visit Paul. I wonder how he was doing. What was it like for a gardener in heaven, I wondered. I hoped he got to do all those things he liked. Liking digging up dirt. And planting flowers. I hope, for his sake, that heaven has shepherds' pie made with home grown potatoes. I hoped.... Hang on.

I stopped in my tracks, frowning. I felt guilty that until this moment I'd kind of forgotten about him. Now, though. Now, I was more worried. I couldn't just leave him there. I knew he was dead, but still.

'Chryssie? What's the matter?' Lori, asked me with obvious concern in her eyes. Blonde Barbie just continued to fling her knife between her hands.

'Don't call me that. My names Chrysielle Thornwoode. You can call me Ms. Thornwood or Madame President if you really have to talk to me. It's your choice, but I prefer Madame President , just FYI .And my gardeners dead.'

'What?'

I looked up from the hurt look that flashed in her eyes. I would not feel bad about that, I told myself, clenching my jaw tight at the increased tension in the air. I turned my head to look at Liam, with a concerned Mattie and Nicki behind them.

'The gardener. Paul Keene. Ginger Orlando Bloom? He was going to be the father of my gorgeous ginger babies until Ms Geayr ruined my chances by telling him I need anti- depressants to get through the day. He's dead.'

Liam held the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes, in exasperation. Well. He was in a right mood. So was I. I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow at him, letting him know he wasn't the only unhappy pony on the prairie.