Sucker Punch (Slow Updates)

one

It was dead silent. No one spoke. Nothing rustled with the wind. And the sky was filled with puffy gray clouds waiting to cry after we left.

The funeral was short ending shortly after we quietly gave our respects.

Gosh dang it Harley. Why'd you have to leave me?

Harley was my everything to me (not my lover just to be clear). My best friend, problem solver, and like a brother all rolled into one. He was gone because of the stupid driver who crashed into him.

Harley wasn't even going fast, the speed limit, on a small bridge over a ravine when the car came out of nowhere. Harley threw himself over me in the passenger seat when he saw that the headlights didn't waver when coming to us. The impact was hard, sending a shock that reverberated through the car. I felt Harley slam into me harder, crushed metal and the airbag forcing its way to us.

     Harley died on impact.

     I made it out with minor scrapes.

     This made me want to scream at the top of my lungs. This wasn't fair. Harley didn't deserve to have his life taken from him at eighteen. He should have lived a long life on earth spent with a wife and children. But when his first reaction was to try to hide me from the impact, I remember screaming at him not to, to save himself. He just shook his head, shielding what he could of me before he said his final words and the car crashed.

     "I love you Calico. Take care of my mom."

     The funeral was over. Harley's mom was talking to people as they made their way down the dirt path from the seating as I just looked onward. The casket was slowly being lowered into the ground. And as the workers' started throwing the dirt, it felt like a piece of me was hollowing out. A gut wrenching feeling twisted inside, making me nauseous.

      I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't notice someone sitting down right next to me until they had said something.

     "Calico, right?"

I didn't turn my head. "Yep."

I wanted to know who this guy was, sitting down like I knew him personally.

      "Harley was my best friend."

     "I was his best friend."

He chuckled slightly, nodding. "That's what he told me every time I called him mine, he was like no Calico is my best friend you airhead."

He didn't know Harley like I knew him.

"I'm James. Has he mentioned anything about me to you?"

Only that you were a jerk.

Couldn't he take a hint. I didn't want to speak to him about anything of this. That's what, excuse me, my therapist was for. Not really. I didn't like talking to him.

James stood up, one hand on the rose that we were supposed to put on Harley's grave after it was done being buried. There was already a plethora of red surrounding the headstone. What was one more flower?

But roses were my favorite flower. Harley knew. Every birthday, he'd get me a dozen roses. Was he doing this to tell me that I'd be fine without him from the grave? Because if that was the message, then it was terrible. And when I finally saw him again, I'd slap him.

"C'mon Calico. You can't sit here all day."

I could. And I could die. And if I died, I'd be with Harley and every other relative I'd lost.