Unwritten

Why?

I stood at the foot of the grave that was marked for Lila Cansing. The air was sticky, and I could feel the perspiration on my neck. I knew it was probably because of the humidity, but since a week ago, I liked to think it was Lila trying to touch me from heaven or some shit. I knew it was complete bullshit, but I guess it comforted me a little bit.

I glanced at the right, and saw the grave for her little brother, Issayah. He died in the accident last week too. And to the left of Lila, her parents, David and Marie, were buried under the soft soil. I was all alone with their four pots of death, and it seemed since the funeral, I’d spent a lot of time here. Just me and their ashes. And the sound of traffic just on the other side of the trees.

David, Marie, Lila, and Issayah Cansing had died in a terrible accident. During a thunderstorm, somehow a neighboring tree of their house had fallen. It’d smashed straight into their house, destroying only half though. Lila’s bedroom, according to authorities and her aunt and uncle, had suffered minor damages. Stuff had fallen to the floor, trophies broken, etc. But nothing like the rest of their house.

Anyway, they said David and Marie had been holding each other tight in bed as the debris and everything had fallen on them. There had been nothing they could do to save their children. Issayah had also been sleeping, the new kitten they’d adopted, Mitten, had been cuddling into his chest. Somehow, that little shit survived the whole thing. Covered by Issayah’s dead body, using it like a shield.

Lastly, my best friend. Lila had been found in the hallway, her body sprawled over Augie, their golden retriever, like she’d been trying to protect him from the disaster. Like he was more important than she was. Like I needed the damn dog more than her.

    My mom said it was normal to be so angry over it, after my hours of crying after the first I’d heard of the news. I was angry God took my best friend… Yeah, sure. I had other friends, but Lila was my best friend. We didn’t know each other as long as some of my other friends, but we’d been so… Good together. Not like the romance shit, we weren’t like that. But like we didn’t need to know each other long to be so happy together.

    I was angry Lila hadn’t even tried to escape. Hadn’t fought for her life. She tried to save her dog. Like people would care more if the dog lived than her. She had been wrong.

But how could you be mad at a dead person?

   

    I turned my head to check for anyone else nearby, not wanting anyone to see what I did next. The area was clear. I stepped forward, and kneeled next to the mound of dirt that covered what was left of Lila. Her ashes, inside a designed pot. At the funeral, her aunt Mindy had asked me if I thought Lila would like it. I told her yes, just to make her happy. All I knew when I saw that pot was that no matter how beautiful the design was, it’d never be nearly as beautiful as the girl that was now inside it.

    I stared into the soil, and shook my head. I didn’t understand, and I knew Lila would want me to accept her death, and understand it was “just her time,” or some shit. But I couldn’t. I whispered why over and over, I must have said it a million times the past week as I cried myself to sleep. The tears sprang into my eyes again, and I leaned my forehead on the dirt. I tried to imagine that when I was done crying, she would be here again. I would lift my head, and she would be standing there and smiling, saying “Michael, what are you doing?” Her shiny blonde hair would be falling onto her shoulders, and her green eyes would be sparkling like an emerald.

But I’d never been good at lying, never mind lying to myself. I wiped my tears from my cheeks, and walked back to the jeep I’d driven Lila around in at least a couple dozen times. I slammed the door shut after I hopped in, and drove home with a song I didn’t know playing on the radio.