The stranger in the mirror | Wattys2016

(8) Three wreaths and a wooden cross

I haven't been outside in days – which means I haven't had a good enough reason to put on fresh clothes in days. Or take a shower, for that matter. It's disgusting, really, but it doesn't bother me now – it's an act of defiance, in a way. I know what'll happen once I leave the apartment. The neighbours, the inevitable stares and whispers, hushed questions and rumours exchanged behind my back as I walk by. I'm not sure whether they think I don't notice, or whether they are well aware of it and want me to notice, in other words, whether they're stupid or passive-aggressive cunts. It's disgusting either way, and I'm not dealing with it, so you know what, fuck that, and fuck them, I'm not going out. I'm not even going to do anything that could lead anyone to believe I might go out – such as take a shower.

To be exact, I've been wearing this shirt since Oxy left my apartment. After she came out of the bathroom, we couldn't look at each other for a while. She cleaned up my late wife's blood which had barely dried - that's not easy to process, and I couldn't even be bothered to think about what must be going through her head. She took me to the police station and demanded - yes, demanded - to speak to the officers who'd been at my house earlier. I sat down on the next best chair, not really paying attention as she harangued a very weary-looking policeman about how his behaviour earlier today had been entirely insufficient and unprofessional...in brief, she managed to have someone take my blood sample and send it to the lab, and the concentrations of all kinds of substances in my blood were put on record. She stayed around for three more days and did all kinds of helpful things, most of which I've probably already forgotten about; she talked to a colleague of hers who works nearby ("Here's her card; should the police turn up for questioning again, call her. She'll be your lawyer. Got it?" she said as she pinned to card to my fridge door); I think she tidied up a bit, and stocked up on groceries that weren't alcohol (and also saw to it that I actually ate frequently); she made the funeral arrangements.

It was a decent funeral, I think. To be honest, I don't remember all that much about it. There was a service at church, which was for her family, really. I'd never been to church, nor wasted a thought on God in my life, so I didn't know the procedure or the prayers. I think that part was just to give her family some solace; her parents never stopped crying. Afterwards, we went to the cemetery. Different people said a few words about her and threw a shovelful of earth onto her coffin as it was lowered down into the grave. I think I said something, too. Standard-stuff Oxy had written up for me because I told her I couldn't. What I really wanted to say to her wouldn't have been appropriate for a funeral. After that was over and all condolences had been exchanged, all guests made their way to a nearby restaurant for the funeral reception.

"Let's go", Oxy said, but I asked her to go ahead and tend to my in-laws and all.

"Give me a minute, I'll be right there. Alright?"

She nodded and went on with the rest of the crowd while I lingered. When they were all gone, I turned back to the grave with a sigh. The grave looked very makeshift with its freshly dug up soil and the simple wooden cross. The actual tombstone was to be placed on it in two or three days, it wasn't finished yet, and there weren't any flowers planted on it yet, either. I took a few steps closer and scrutinized the plain grave that all too permanently marked the end of a twelve-year-long marriage. There were three funeral wreaths on the grave: one from her family, one from her workplace, and one from me, except Oxy picked that one. Attached to the wooden cross was a photo of her - it was a detail taken from what must've been a holiday picture, because you could tell from the background she was at some sunny beach. She was tan and happy and her smile was genuine. You could tell it was taken a long time ago, she looked like sorrow had never touched her. For a brief moment, I wondered whether the picture they'd taken this detail from had been one I was in.

I looked into the picture's eyes for a long time, longer than I'd looked into her actual eyes during the last years. When I realized just how badly I wanted to look into her eyes one last time and see them looking back, a sudden surge of sadness overwhelmed me. It felt like a punch in the gut, which hurt so bad it took my breath away. I gasped for air and burst into sobs. My wife's funeral was over, and yet this was the first time I cried at her grave. When Oxy saw my reddened eyes later, she put a hand on my back and told me it was good I cried after all, it was healthy. Anyway, I pulled myself together because I didn't have much time.

"Claudia..." I finally said, "sorry for the sudden outburst there. I guess I just...I only just realized that it's really over and you're really never coming back home. I know you thought we weren't working out anymore, and you probably thought we should get divorced, but...you know, even when we weren't talking, deep down I always thought we...I always thought we were going to fix it, we were going to be okay. I always thought we'd eventually go back to who we used to be. We were going to start working on it and I was going to be a better person...I never would have guessed I'd run out of time. And now I'm standing here like the biggest asshole on this planet because I never started. Worst of all, I don't even know why I didn't start making it right. I'm standing here like the biggest idiot, and I probably am, because I can't think of one good reason why I never got around to tell you that I did still love you and that we should work it out together. I can't believe you'll never hear me say it now, I..."

I burst into tears violently and took a few minutes to recompose myself before I could finally ask the question that was weighing so heavily on my mind. "Claudia what happened that night? The last thing I remember is we were having a fight, and then I fell asleep. What was going on in the bathroom? Was I really too shitfaced to hear you call for help, or did you never call for help at all? Did you not want to come home to me anymore that badly? Or had I gone out...? I just...Claudia please, I need to know what happened, it's driving me insane. I just can't handle this forever being my last memory of you, not this, not you yelling at me, I...that's not how I want to remember us and I am so, so sorry."

I took another few minutes to recompose myself. Then I looked into her forever happy photograph-eyes for a long moment. "Claudia...goodbye." I said and went after the others to join the funeral reception.