Midnight Grey

Chapter 11 Loss

Today is the funeral and I refuse to go.  The image of his body in an open casket is not something I elect to have implanted in my memory.  I prefer to recall his smile as bright and glowing.  I plan to remember his skin golden and warm, not that of a cold clammy corpse.

I walk out of my room.  It's Thursday, so I have Biology to go to.  Megan is sitting on the leather couch, back slumped over.  Her blonde hair is pulled up and she is wearing a black dress.  She turns to me, her face solemn with eyes red and puffy from crying.  "Hi," her tone is glum and it almost makes me lose my composure. 

She eyes me up and down.  "You're not dressed for the funeral." Her throat raspy.

I clear my throat.  "Um, no.  I'm not going."

"You're not going?"

"No."  Megan stares at me stunned.  "Well, I can't miss class.  Dr. Krouch assigned a test." 

"You're worried about missing class?"  She glances away, her eyes racing back and forth as she tries to comprehend.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Well, then tell me Lynn!"  Her focus are set dead on me with an expression which is pleading with me.  It makes me feel weak like I'm starting to cave in.  I refuse to let the pain overcome me again. The growing darkness that consumes my insides. The aching that probes every inch of my body.

I turn away and shake my head, "I need to go."  I grab my backpack and walk out the door.

When I get to my class, I pull out my book and start studying.  This is like any other day, I tell myself, but the clawing in my gut and the hole in my chest lets me discern this is untrue.

The door swings open as someone starts to walk in. 

A briefcase is laid on the instructor's desk.  I glance up as the chair screeches back and Dr. Krouch sits down.  His beady eyes are looking straight at me, "Miss Warren would you please come here!"

As I walk towards him, he opens his briefcase and pulls out a blank piece of paper.  His head is down as he writes something down, his posture indignant.

I get closer catching the balding top of his head clearer than ever and I consider what could possibly be wrong.  Though, I'm too hollow inside to care.

I stop in front of his desk silent waiting for him to begin.  After a moment, he leans forward clasping his fingers together.  The forearms of his jacket laying over the paper and he dissects me.  "Miss Warren, do you realize what today is?"

I clear my throat, "Yes Thursday, the one after Thanksgiving, also the day you assigned a test."

Dr. Krouch leans back in his chair.  He picks up the paper, holding it in front of his face.  He adjusts his glasses.  "I see." His tone contemplative.  As he lowers his glasses to the brim of his nose, he peers up at me.  "I thought the funeral of Kyle Stryder is today.  Is this correct?" he asks inquisitively.

My heart sinks and as I reply my stomach flips and turns like being melted away in a hot stew.  "Yes, that's correct."

"I assumed you would be going?"

My heart drops in a field of knives.  "Well, I wanted to be here for the test.  To be a good student." My voice somewhat rough from the pain.

"Is that so?" he examines the paper again and then glances back up.  "Well," he continues not giving me time to answer.  "I wanted to let you know, I think you have been a better student than I thought you'd to be."  He doesn't speak in an endearing way, only in a matter to fact tone. "I'm interested in knowing if you'd be a teacher's assistant for me next semester?"  He questions indignantly as if he could care less if I said yes or no.