One Day Too Late

Remembering Sunday

Echo's P.O.V.-

There I sit, on those cold red roses, waiting for my prince in shining armor to save me from myself. What I get instead is the dragon of the story, well, one of them. No one is more shocked than I when Brandon steps through the low fog into the small clear of my grave.  

In his hands he hold a single origami rose. 

"Thought it'd last longer," he mutters sheepishly. It seems talking out loud to dead people has become his new past time. 

"I've really wanted to say sorry. For so long, I've been waiting. This is basically my fault for everything I've done, everything I am. Echo, I was so stupid," he growls, shoving palms into his eyes, "I thought you were better off. I thought I was finally doing something right for you. I thought it'd be for the best. I never thought you'd end up dead, and I'd end up shivering in the fog of your grave."

"I always wonder," he continues, "Where you are. Heaven, hell, somewhere in between? I don't think you can hear me, or that you'd care to. If I were you, I wouldn't exactly invite me over for a tea and a chat. And no, I'm not saying this is all my fault; I'm not that arrogant. I know you had a lot going on, and I was only a small part of it but. . . I still could've helped." 

"I was too focused on making sure you got over me, that I could never hurt you again, to see how much I was obviously hurting you. I'm such an idiot, Echo. I ruin everything I touch. And now, as fate would have it I've fallen most unfortunately in love with your best friend. Ironic, right? 

"Or, am I just a stupid boy who looks too deeply into my life? Do I try to find meaning in this twisted cruelty of fate for no reason other than the incompetent thought that my pathetic life could have some meaning? Quite the opposite in fact, I am of no more overall significance than a single drop of water in the oceanic tragedy of life. I have no idea where these philosophical metaphors come from. I'll try my best to stop now."

I can't help but smile at this; Brandon's never been at all philosophical before this point. I don't know how the rest of his crazy speech should make me feel, but listening to this, I feel nothing but numb. The bitter cold has a bigger effect than his lifeless words. Pushing around a couple of flowers, I wait for him to start talking again. 

"I guess I mostly came here to get away. Everyone and everything is getting to be too much. I can't standing looking at the faces in the hallways, the ones who don't care. The ones who drown me in sympathy are almost as bad. My prep friends expect me not to care, and everyone else says I should be bawling my eyes out. I'm somewhere in the middle, which is 'unacceptable'. What if I just don't know? 

"There's a lot I don't know," he finishes. 

That, I can understand. I'm so exhausted right now, I doubt anything could make me feel. Brandon stands up, dropping the origami rose, pausing for a moment, and walks away. 

Nice to see you, better to see you go.