Just A Knock Away

01: WHAT THEY SAY

SALEM

They say a lot of things about how you're supposed to feel when someone dies. Books and movies and tv shows basically have a list of acceptable reactions. One is empty. Like you lost a part of yourself. I've also heard that you feel frozen, like time just stops around you. Like you paused the movie and lost the remote. Cold is another one, like a constant chill surrounds your skin and the hairs on your arms are always upright.

When Ingrid died, I felt all of the above.

It started off one at a time. I stayed in bed for weeks. I didn't eat unless I was starving, and I peed maybe twice a day. Then I was back in bed. Frozen. Next was the emptiness. Ingrid was all that I thought about. My mind was a film reel of every memory and moment that we'd shared, and I replayed it over and over. Blinking was my commercial break. Lastly, the cold. I felt like I was surrounded by ice, like my veins were frozen in place. And after each solitary feeling, they became combinations. For a week I was cold and empty, next empty and frozen, sometimes all of the above. They say a lot of things about how you're supposed to feel when someone dies.

But they never say how long it'll last.

Ingrid died two months ago, but everyday it felt like it happened yesterday. I only knew that it had happened in February because I had helped her mother schedule the funeral for April. April was her favorite month, the optimal point of spring, which was her favorite season. I figured that if she couldn't experience it while alive, she deserved to be remembered during it when dead.

Ingrid is dead.

I had to keep reminding myself because it just didn't feel real. It would never feel real. I was living a lucid dream, my thoughts on display and my mind simply a concept. Too many questions flew through it, too many memories and moments and desires that I couldn't comprehend. Ingrid was my best friend — she is my beat friend. But she's gone. She isn't on this Earth anymore.

Ingrid is dead.

I blinked again, my commercial break transpiring for a longer amount of time as my mind cut back to reality. I was standing in my room, in front of my mirror, staring back at at myself in my black attire. My room, that I used to blast music in every morning to give myself energy, was now eerily silent. My mirror portrayed an image of a woman that I no longer recognized. I had on black slacks, a turtle neck tucked into them, and black flats. My hair hadn't been washed in weeks so I'd slicked it back into a low bun. Not a curl was in sight. My eyes were blank. My skin was paler. I didn't look like Salem. But I hadn't been Salem for two months.

I inhaled slowly and checked my phone. Two hours before the service began, and I wanted to be early for Kathleen. I called my Uber, grabbed my purse and left my apartment. When I arrived at the desolate funeral home, Kathleen was sitting alone outside. Walking up to her, I listened to my shoes crushing the gravel beneath it and felt my face lifting itself into a soft smile, one that felt painfully unfamiliar. "Hi Kathleen," I greeted her gently, sitting down beside her on the small wooden bench that she'd been sitting on, staring blankly ahead. She jumped slightly as I turned to her, and seemed to reset.

"Hi." She murmured, placing her hand on mine. "Hi." Kathleen exhaled, mimicking my smile. Her's was softer though, with less tightness. I suppose hers was more genuine, whereas mine barely reached my eyes. "I'm so glad that you're here. Ingrid would've. . ." She stopped herself. I caught the flicker of agony that flashed across her green eyes, and then they quickly began to water. "I'm so glad you're here."

I hadn't noticed it before, but Kathleen had tightened her grip on my own. I squeezed her hand back and stood up, leading the both of us inside of the funeral home we had rented out for the day. I couldn't break down today because I had to be strong for her. Kathleen was all that I had left of Ingrid. She was all that I had left at all. Ingrid and I were both only children. We were so close that we became each others siblings, and even tried to get our parents to date. You know, Parent Trap style. But just like the two of us, they were better off friends. And when my dad died, Kathleen and Ingrid became my family. Now, it was just Kathleen and I. I was with her in the hospital, I identified Ingrid and Trey's body. And now I'm with her at their conjoined funeral.