Best Served Cold

Day Four: Grief

Note: Three updates today simply because I don’t know if I’ll have the energy for it over the next three days, where I will be out of the house a lot. We’ll see if I do. But if I don’t, I will write as soon as I have energy for it again. The plot haunts me through my working hours and into my sleep. Not even kidding. However the characters do not belong to me, but to MysteryBen and Artsy.

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            Arthur woke with a cramp in his side and a crick in his neck, curled up on the floor and still clinging to a snoring Mystery. Sunlight filtered in through his broken window, prodding him awake.

             He was on day four now. The ink smear on his floor was happy to remind him of his shrunken lifespan. But the despair had lightened some, at least for now. By now he understood he could sink under it at any moment, but opening the floodgates had lessened the pressure some.

             He glanced down at Mystery, shaking him slightly. “Hey, buddy.” He noted an extra couple of charms on Mystery’s collar, and wondered if Vivi put them there. They looked harmless, maybe random presents for the dog.

             I should board up the window. The thought crossed his mind, and he dismissed it just as quickly. In a few days, it wouldn’t matter. And he didn’t feel like spending any time doing something that wouldn’t matter. “How ‘bout we go for a walk, Mystery? I haven’t walked you in a few days.”

             The dog blinked up at him, dipping his head somberly. Arthur stretched as he stood, then walked over to the closet and grabbed the dog-leash off the knob. He clipped it onto Mystery’s collar. “Y’know, appearances,” He apologized, knowing full well the dog was the very model of self-restraint and propriety in public.

             They left the house together, strolling down the street as the breeze swept autumn leaves across their path. Arthur let his mind wander as they walked. He wondered what he could really leave Vivi to explain. The note on his end table wouldn’t cut it, he would get that sanded off by that evening, he decided.

             He’d like to see her again. Apologize. He shouldn’t have shouted.

            But again, he couldn’t have her in Lewis’ path again.

             His mind was tired. Tired of running over this scenario over and over again. But he felt trapped, unable to change the line of his thoughts. They just circled around with each other over and over and over again, an endless parade of shame and failure. Really, there would be no winning in this situation. He would die with Vivi angry at him, Mystery mourning him, and Lewis giving him his due.

            He hadn’t been paying attention to where they were walking, just aimlessly following as Mystery tugged him along. When he finally came to himself, he stood in the last place he would have ever have thought to come.

           The graveyard.

           Arthur looked down to Mystery, who stared up at him through yellow tinted glasses, expectantly.

           “Buddy, why’d you bring me here?”

            Mystery tugged him forward again, bringing him to stand in front of the grave he’d only visited once in his life. He gently took his leash in his mouth and tugged it out of Arthur’s slack grip, removing himself several feet away to give Arthur privacy.

             Arthur stared at the headstone. It was a beautiful piece. The three of them had moved to the most ghost-infested city they could find and applied to the local college, so by rights Lewis’ body should have been shipped home. Only, he’d never had a home to go back to. Not one he’d ever talk about anyway. He always got very quiet and stony when it was mentioned. He suspected once or twice, by the way Vivi would slip her hand into his, that Lewis had told Vivi. He’d only ever told Arthur that his family was as good as dead to him, and left it at that.