Five Pink Envelopes

Chapter Four

warning this chapter is kind of heavy

Chapter Four

          It rained. It rained on the day of her funeral, as if some sort of sick twisted fate. As macabre as it was, I liked that it rained on the day of her funeral.

          Bash picked me up for the funeral. I didn’t ask him to. I hadn’t even talked to him since our escapade in his shower. It was nice though, and I think I needed it. Even though my parents had the day off work and were attending the funeral as well, I don’t think I could’ve handled my parents’ silence and sympathetic glances the entire car ride to the funeral home.

          So when Bash was standing in my driveway, dressed in a suit wearing Ray Bans sunglasses and smoking a cigarette, I took the stairs two at a time and ran out to him. I knew my parents were standing by the door, watching with their noses pressed against the glass when he opened the passenger door for me. And I knew they were giving me my space when they didn’t stop me.

          When we pulled into the parking lot of the funeral home, neither of us had said a word. He didn’t give me any sympathetic glances; he knew what it felt like. He didn’t have to sympathize; he was living it.

          We walked into the funeral home and it felt stuffy. The air reminded me of death and the copious number of tissue boxes stuck in every corner instantly made the pit in my stomach grow bigger. My throat was tight and I couldn’t breathe well. I couldn’t breathe well even if I wanted to.

          Bash followed behind me silently as I walked in. I felt like we were being watched, and we probably were.

          Those poor kids, if only they knew their friend was struggling they could have stopped all this. Instead now they have to burry one of their dear classmates what a shame to die so young. A life taken too soon. I wonder how their handling it all. Hopefully we won’t have to burry any more kids.

          I looked around, suddenly self-conscious about my attire. I was wearing a black skater skirt with black tights and a black shirt. I’d paired it with a pair of black suede bootie wedges. They were Kara’s. I’d borrowed them for a date a few weeks before…

          I found a bench where Ava was sitting with Rebel and Sully, and I joined them. Bash sat down beside me, and the five of us dared not to say a word. We looked straight ahead, at the shiny pine box where our best friend lay.

          I don’t know when the funeral started, but I knew that at some point my hands had found Bash’s and Ava’s. The five of us all sat together, holding hands tightly, leaving purple fingerprint bruises on each other’s hands. I didn’t know when the funeral started, but it did. I could only focus on the beautiful pine box where my best friend slept her last, dreamless sleep.

          I didn’t know when the funeral started, but I knew when it was nearly over because the entire room was staring at me. I could barely recollect the last minute when the pastor said, “Kara’s parents have asked her best friend, Marina Johnson to come up and say some words about the Kara we all knew.”

          I stood up carefully, and made my way the few feed to the podium. I focused on my feet. Suddenly, something so simple as walking took all my energy, all my being to move.

          I found myself in front of the podium, and I looked out into the crowd of familiar faces. Of friends and family, of classmates and strangers and I took a deep breath.

          My eulogy was sitting on the podium waiting for me, typed, double space in size twelve Times New Roman font.

          “Kara,” I said, and my voice cracked. I paused. I needed to get my bearings. This wasn’t the right moment to be reading this. I should be old and gray and I’d keel over and die myself at the end of it, because after the eighty some years we’d been friends I wouldn’t want to live without my best friend. I should have known she was struggling. I should have done something.

          But there was a world of shoulds and coulds and woulds but there was only one reality.

          I don’t know how long I paused, but it must have been a long time, because the next thing  I knew, Bash was standing behind me. He grabbed my eulogy and his deep voice said the words I could only think.

          “I am Marina Johnson, I am seventeen years old, and I had the fortune to be Kara’s best friend for the past twelve years. I am a firm believer in the notion that everyone needs a person. We need a person that we can tell everything to and they’ll understand and not judge you, even if you’re spouting crazy conspiracy theories or ranting about something menial. For me, Kara was that person. We talked about everything. I knew things about Kara that no one should ever know, but apparently, I didn’t know it all.

When we were five years old, she punched me in the stomach on recess and told me I was going to be her best friend. And so I was. Kara was pretty convincing when she wanted to be, and well, who could pass up the offer for a best friend with a killer right hook?” he read, and the room chucked a tearful laugh.

          “Kara was my best friend. We’ve been best friends for a long time. We’ve done everything together. From late night light saber fights to climbing the house and watching the sunrise from her roof, I was there for it all. But apparently, I wasn’t there enough,” Bash read and sighed.

          “Suicide is not painless, especially for those left behind.

          “I’ve had less than a week to think about what I wanted to say when I stood up here. It may not seem like adequate time to sum up the past twelve years of my life with such an amazing, beautiful, larger-than life girl, but somehow it is. Because when all you can think about is your best friend, and wanting to text her to tell her something new or even something stupid like song lyrics, you can’t. Five days is more than enough time, because I’ve had more than enough time to realize that no amount of time would ever be enough to figure out a way to sum up everything I need to say.

“How could I have not known that my best friend was struggling? How could I have not done something? If I could go back in time, and change it all I would. While heaven might have gained one hell of an angel, I’m not ready to give her up. None of us were.

“If I could go back and say something to her to stop it all from happening I would, and I’d like to think it might be something like this,” Bash read aloud, calmly, his voice never wavering, despite the fact that the majority of the attendees were sobbing their eyes out and all of the copious boxes of tissues were going around in circulation, and despite the fact that all I could do was just stand there while he read my eulogy, his voice never wavered. And he kept reading.

“To Kara,” he read, “If you want to cut yourself and see how your blood runs red, remember that I love you. And if you want to swallow some pills to make the pain go away, remember that I love you. And if you want to kill yourself, remember that I love you. And while you’re up there in heaven, making friends with Kurt Cobain and Marilyn Monroe and Audrey Hepburn, remember that I love you.”

Bash sat the paper back down on the podium, planted a kiss on my forehead and grabbed my hand.

          The next thing I remember of that day, was when we were at the actual burial. It was closed to close friends and family. I remember how her coffin looked as it was lowered into the ground. I remember watching everybody leave as the funeral people picked up the tent and the flowers.  I remember watching as the rain poured down and they covered her grave with red brown mud.

          I remember the five of us, soaking head to toe, holding hands and staring at the plot of dirt for hours, our tears undistinguishable from the raindrops on our cheeks.

          And I remember the month long cold we all had following that day.