Authors: JL Paul
I recognized Mrs. Cook from across the street as well as Mr. and Mrs. Langley, parents of Camille’s friend Paige. I scanned the room quickly, trying to locate Paige, but I didn’t see her. I wondered, for the first time, how Paige was taking the news. Camille had been at Paige’s house on that fateful day.
I forced a smile as I accepted condolences while pushing through the throng. I headed for the front door, desperate to take a walk and get a breath of fresh air, but Mrs. Cook snagged my arm.
“Don’t go out there, dear,” she said, her wrinkled face sympathetic. “There are reporters outside and they’ll hound you.”
“Great,” I groaned as I turned sullenly back to the kitchen. The scent of casseroles and salads nauseated me and I was starting to panic, wishing I would have stayed locked up in my room. Just as I decided to make a mad dash for the stairs, I heard my name. I whirled around to find my former best friend standing nervously in the foyer.
“
Tiara?” I said, flabbergasted. A confusing mixture of emotions swirled in my gut. I wasn’t sure if I was happy to see her or not.
“Hi,” she said as she took an uncertain step toward me. “Um, I’m really sorry about Camille.”
“Er…thanks,” I said. I hadn’t figured out what the proper thing to say was. I made a mental note to ask Roberta later. “So, how have you been?”
She shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
The tension floated between us like a noxious gas. I remembered a time when she would have breezed through my front door like she was part of the family and helped herself to anything in the fridge. But those days disappeared the same day as Camille had and I suddenly longed for my real friends – the people I’d left behind in Dunewood.
“Well, um, thanks for coming,” I stammered. “I’m sure my parents would love to see you but they’re sort of tied up at the moment.”
“I understand,” she said with an uneasy smile. She hugged me stiffly and moved back as though she was afraid she’d catch something. Maybe she thought death was contagious. “Look, I can’t stay long – sorry. I just wanted to stop in and say, you know, that I’m sorry.”
I nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
“Give me a call sometime,” she said as she turned to the door. I watched her leave as nostalgia hit. I shook it off and ran up the stairs, cell phone in hand. I slipped into my room, shut the door, and dialed Fin’s number.
“I’m glad you called,” he said immediately. “How are you doing?”
“It’s her,” I said as the tears returned. “It’s definitely her. My dad and my brother identified her.”
“Rena, honey, I’m so very sorry,” he said with genuine sincerity. “Is there anything I can do for you or your family?”
“No,” I said, longing for him. “I just…I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” he said. “Um, do you know anything about funeral arrangements? I think my mother wants to send something.”
“I don’t know anything,” I admitted. “But I’ll let you know.”
I chatted with him for a little while longer until my father pee
ked into my room and asked me to come downstairs. I promised to call Fin the next day before ending the call and reluctantly followed my father back down to the living room.
***
The next few days were a blur – a flutter of activity that made my head spin. I spent time with Roberta and was pleased to hear that my mother had, also. The medical examiner performed an autopsy and released Camille’s body to the family for burial.
The service was nice: The minister kept it brief but beaut
iful. The church was packed - the ensuing funeral procession to the cemetery long. As we stood in the bitter cold beside the newly dug grave, listening to more words of comfort, my mind returned to its numb state. I hardly heard the words and was shocked when Jared took me by the elbow to lead me away from the polished stone with Camille’s name etched in elegant script. As we approached the car, I spotted a familiar face and shook off Jared’s hold. I jogged toward the tiny group that stood apart from the rest, launching my body into Fin’s open arms.
“Hey,” he whispered into my hair, squeezing me.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I muttered, inhaling his scent.
“We wanted to be here for you,” he said.
I pulled away to smile at my friends. Damon, Reg, and Shane hugged me, offering their sympathies. And I accepted greedily.
“We’re sorry about your sister,” another voice said as it joined our group. I was surprised to see Grant and Isaiah – I’d never told them about Camille and I was certain Fin had kept it to himself. But then, I was sure the rumor mill was working overtime at Dunewood High and the high profile case was bound to have reached even the remotest of televisions in that small community.
“Thanks, I guess,” I said, kicking myself for forgetting to ask Roberta about how to respond. But it hadn’t mattered for these people were real, genuine friends. I could have told them all to go to hell and they would have remained steadfast by my side. “Um, the Lodge my father belongs to is hosting a luncheon. Will you guys come?”
“Sure,” Fin said, pulling me into a casual embrace. “We’ll see you there.” He nodded toward the town car, my parents standing beside it, waiting for me.
“See you there,” I said, stealing one last glance at them before dashing off to join my family.
At the Lodge, I was surprised to see not only Fin’s parents, but the parents of the rest of my friends. I was moved to tears at the respect these people showed my family and the inconvenience they’d endured to miss work and school to drive all the way here from Dunewood for people they didn’t even know.
I fed off the love exuding from my friends and used it to get me through the afternoon. Several of my former acquaintances stopped in to pay respects and the same awkwardness that I’d felt with Tiara was present with them, too. It didn’t bother me as much so long as Fin was by my side.
But as the afternoon faded and people started to leave, despair hit me again. Fin and the others gathered around to say goodbye and that familiar panicky feeling fluttered in my chest. I didn’t want them to leave.
“Call me,” Fin said as he kissed me chastely. “If you need to stick around here for a while, I’ll come see you.”
I nodded, not able to speak. As I watched them get into their vehicles, my anxiety increased. I needed to find Roberta and I needed to find her fast.
Time didn’t seem to exist, at least not in the normal way. I constantly felt as though I was in a movie and someone kept playing with remote control buttons – one minute I’m zooming through the frames and the next I’m moving in slow motion. And I was twitchy – unable to sit still, like a toddler accused of the dreaded ‘ants in the pants’.
My frequent chats with Roberta were amazing in helping me to keep myself together. The pain seemed to lessen while I was with her, discussing Camille’s death and the man charged with her murder. But I fought the healing – fought it tooth and nail. I wasn’t ready yet.
It was the guilt that was eating me alive -the guilt that gnawed at my insides like a gerbil gnawing on a cardboard toilet paper roll. I wanted to confess, felt the need burn in my heart, but I was scared. I was terrified of everyone’s reactions. And I was scared of what would happen to the tenuous hold I had on my psyche.
I half expected Roberta to return to Dunewood but she stayed with us, helping every member of my family sort through their emotions and put them on the track to healing. I was forever grateful for her and often snorted at my initial reluctance to meet with her.
But she knew there was something inside of me clawing to get out. She was like a priest and I was the possessed soul. I wanted her to perform the exorcism but was deathly afraid.
She finally cornered me late Sunday afternoon. She ushered me into the family room and urged me to take a seat. I did so, nibbling on my nail as she settled into the chair across from me.
“I know you’re fighting some sort of inner demons,” she said, startling me with her words. How had she known that I’d compared my feelings to demons and devils? “I think it’s time that you shared those repressed feelings with me.”
I shrugged but not petulantly. Those days of resistance and rebellion were o
ver. It was time to mature - become an adult. I needed Roberta.
“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered.
“Sure you do,” she prodded. “You know what you want to get off your chest. You’ve been aching to tell me since the first day we met.”
I jumped out of my chair and whirled away from her, directing my blurred gaze out the window. Pers
piration dotted my upper lip while my insides trembled. I couldn’t bear this – couldn’t stand it. The pain was too much.
“What happened that day, Rena?” Roberta asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I shook my head, my lips clamped firmly shut. I couldn’t bring the truth out – couldn’t let the words float in the air. To do so would be the first step in healing and I didn’t deserve to heal – not while my baby sister rested in a velvet bed in a cold grave. Not while the rest of my family grieved.
“It’s time to face the truth,” Roberta urged.
“No,” I said, my head shaking furiously.
“Let it out, Rena,” she coaxed. “You know you want to do it.”
“I can’t,” I said. “It’s not fair.”
“Why?”
I spun to face her, my hands clenched in tight fists at my sides, the anger-demon running circles of glee on my shoulders. “Why should I get better? Why do I deserve it while the rest of my family suffers so?”
“You are only one person, Rena. You can’t save them – they need to save themselves. And they will – in time. You’ve worked so hard for the past few months. Don’t stop now.”
My heart pounded, battering my ribs like a monkey rattling the bars of its cage. My chest heaved, exhaling puffs of air.
“Where were you when she disappeared?” Roberta asked.
That day whipped through my head so fast I had to clutch the back of the chair to keep my balance. The pain morphed to anger and I aimed it carefully at the only other person in the room.
“No! I … can’t!” A red curtain fluttered in front of my eyes as I grabbed blindly at any object I could get my hands on and hurled
it toward the walls, grinning in sick satisfaction when I heard it shatter.
The door opened and Jared peeked in, concern in his eyes. “Everything okay? Rena, what’s going on?”
“We’re fine – just give us a minute,” Roberta ordered in a clipped tone. “We’re fine.”
A heavy weight crushed my lungs as I staggered, clawing at my chest, wishing I could breathe again. “I can’t stand it!”
“Then tell me!” Roberta shouted, startling me.
“They need to know,” I said, striding through the door toward the living room, Roberta on my heels. “My family needs to know.”
My parents were sitting close together on the sofa, photo albums on their laps, gazing at Jared as he explained that it was I who had thrown one of Mom’s knick knacks at the wall. All three of them whipped their heads around as I strode purposely into the room.
“I’m to blame,” I blurted. “Me. I was selfish. I didn’t care!”
“How are you to blame?” Roberta prodded, coming to a stop next to me. “Tell me. Tell them.”
“I was at the mall,” I said, my voice still forceful. “I was with my friends. There was this guy there and he was cute…” I turned away as shame burned my face. “Camille called. She’d been at
Paige's house for a pool party but it was over and she wanted to go home. It was raining…storming. Mom was out with friends, Dad was working, and I don’t remember what Jared was doing. She called me and asked me to pick her up.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Hell no, I didn’t,” I said, tears streaking down my face. I wrapped my arms tightly around my middle in a desperate attempt to hold myself together. “I wasn’t leaving my friends. Cody was on the verge of asking me out. I told Camille to walk home – she’d walked home plenty of times before.”
I edged toward the door and admired a painting of a solitary sailboat floating on a calm lake. I touched the water, running my finger over the surface. I sucked in air, slowing my breathing as my chest loosened.
“I told her…” I sniffed and swallowed a sob. “I told her to have Paige’s father take her home but he wasn’t there. Paige’s older sister was chaperoning but she didn’t have access to a car.” I leaned against the wall and grinned maniacally at all four sets of eyes. “I told her that she’d already been in the pool so what was a little rain? She wouldn’t melt if she walked home and got a little wet…”
I slid
down the wall to the floor, cradling my head in my hands. I regurgitated the sob I’d swallowed as the tears increased and threatened to flood the room. The pain increased and I was certain I was going to die. I’d deserve it. I should have been the one, not Camille.
“What did Camille say?” Roberta asked in a soft, gentle voice.
Without lifting my head, I repeated the last words we’d spoken to each other. “She said she was going to tell Mom and that I was a selfish brat.” I buried my face in my arms, so ashamed of my next words. “I told her that she was… she was so whiney that I was embarrassed to have her as a sister.”