| Chapter 1~Going Through The Motions
Thursday, February 13th,
Just another day,
She wakes up, just like she always does, she can't remember her dreams last night, just like she never can, she puts her right foot on the floor, just like she always does, the smooth, solid, stable floor is under her foot, just like it always is. Then her left, solid on the ground, she sits on the edge of the bed, rubs her eyes, stretches, and pops her back, just as always. She stands up, nothings different, the routine doesn't vary from day to day. She does the inevitable, she takes the infamous walk to the bathroom, takes a look in the mirror and complains about everything she sees. Inside, she's beautiful, she's wonderfully and fearfully made. The outside is another story, her skin is scared of the ever evident adolescent acne problems. She washes her face and places her glasses atop her nose, just like she always does every other morning. She turns on her staight iron and works through the tangled mess she managed to accomplish last night. "Sleeping is just a waste of time, it messes up my hair, and I miss many hours out of my day doing it," she says to herself. She puts down the brush, and begins to straighten her long brown hair, the ends are dead and the roots dry, because this is her daily routine, and it is drying out her hair, just like it always does.
Claire is average, she isn't obsessively optimistic, nor is she extremely pessimistic, she enjoys the daily routine, she doesn't differ from day to day. Claire has hopes and dreams just like every other girl, Claire wishes she had better features, just like everyone else does. Claire dreams of being able to do better things, accomplish other things than she is able to, she wears the same mask everyday, she doesn't strive to be invisible, she just is. She is what she is, she has no desire to change that. Claire's life is plain, doesn't vary much, and Claire doesn't seem to mind, or so it seems.
She walks to her closet, looks for an ensemble for the day, same ol' same ol', she pulls out the same jeans she always wears, because those are her favorite pair, barely faded with a small flare. She unfolds them, and searches for a shirt to match. She pulls out a dark blue cotton shirt from the camp she worked at last summer. The same camp she went to as a child, the same camp her brother goes to now, the same camp she's worked at the past 4 years. The t-shirt is faded, just like it always is when she puts it on, she looks at it as if its supposed to become suddenly new, clean and crisp, with that new t-shirt smell, it's not, but that's ok, it wouldn't be the normal routine if it was new. She brushes her teeth, puts a little mascara on, resituates her glasses and takes one last look at her hair, "Maybe I should put it up, naw, takes too much time." She runs down the stairs and trips on the cat, the morning just wouldn't be right if she didn't fall at some point in time, she's late, she's spent too much time looking at her imperfections once again.
Claire isn't depressed, she's not anti-social, she has friends, just not alot, some would say she's shy, but that's not the case, she just doesn't feel it necessary to talk. Very few people know who Claire Vece is. She likes it like that. Inconspicous, quiet, she's not in the rumors, she doesn't really want to be. She has a boyfriend, John, they are very happy together, never fight, all smiles, John's not well known either. They keep themselves in the background at school and take pride in doing so. Claire and John have a group, just like all kids do in highschool. A group where they belong, a group where they feel needed, a group that doesn't discuss much about one's personal life. They are just there to cling together. Claire likes her life, she just doesn't like the way she looks, but she doesn't let that bother her too much, noone's perfect, thats her motto.
She grabs her keys, says I love you to her mom and walks out the door at 7:50 just like every other morning. She gets into her little red, 2 door Mazda, it's not fancy, but she gets around in it. She forgot breakfast again, just like she always does, her stomach growls and then quiets down, or maybe she just can't hear it because the radio is too loud. She arrives at school, safely and soundly, just as always, she's never been in a wreck, she's a good driver, she sees the same people on the road every morning, same stoplights, she's just going through the daily routine.
Chapter 2~The Daily Routine
Friday, February 14th
Valentine's Day,
She opens her eyes, just like she always does, she sits up in bed, just like always, the floor is still solid and stable under her feet. The same song plays on her radio, and she takes the ever infamous walk to the bathroom. She sees the same Plain Jane staring back at her, as always. She dares to be different, maybe she will wear her hair up today, after all, it is a special day. Today is different, she walks to her closet and pulls out a brand new pair of faded jeans. She tears off the tags and slowly, carefully, unfolds them, puts one leg in, then the next, she's savoring every bit of excitement about the new clothes. She looks up at her shelves in her closet and pulls out the brand new shirt she bought yesterday, white, with a silver buckle up on the corner, the shirt looked good, it made her look thin, although she already was, it layed smoothly, and her upper body looked good. "John will like this," she thought to herself. She was feeling good about herself, she walked into the bathroom and pulled some of her long, brown, dry hair up, parted it on the side, this looked good as well. Today, she was going to look good, for John, for herself. Today, she even bothered to put some make up on, and put her contacts in, which takes a lot of time, her make up was a little bit different today, more than just the usual mascara, today, she's not just going to go through the motions.
Claire is average, she strives to please people, but she doesn't please many, simply because noone knows who she is, she's the girl that sits in the back of class, that has straight A's, wears glasses, and daydreams for the entirety of class. Claire isn't noticed, and she likes it like that, she would much rather be kept out of the rumors and conversations. Claire is plain and simple, traditionally made, she's an individual, but a quiet, content individual. Clare is generally happy, her feathers do not easily get ruffled, she's calm and collected, Claire is solid, just like the ground she walks on.
She leaves her bathroom after one last look in the mirror, "check," John was going to be surprised today. John's average girl, was going to look very pretty today for him. Today was his day, she was going to make sure of it, not only that but he said he had a surprise planned for her, it was going to be the perfect day, she knew it. "Wait, one last look in the mirror, just to make sure." She was late again, just like always, but today she spent a little bit too much time infront of the mirror, but that's ok, she looked good, and she felt good. She ran down the stairs, didn't trip on the cat this time, this day was beginning to run very smoothly, looked for her keys, found them where they always were, go figure.
Arrived at school 15 minutes late, the books came tumbling out of her locker when she opened it like a stampede of elephants, sounded like one too. Made a C on the chemistry test, lost the extra credit paper that was due, John was sick today, they served fried catfish in the lunch line. Happy Valentine's Day Claire. John had pink eye, but he still wanted to see her tonight, there's one good thing. He said he had something to ask her, but he wouldn't say it over the phone. Lunch was over. 5th hour came and went, nothing unusual, 6th hour did the same, 7th hour was anatomy and they were discecting cats, eww, blood, gross. Shoved all the books back into their pen where they belonged, held up like animals, grabbed her geometry book, said good bye to Jane, looked for her keys, lost again in the bottomless pit of her purse, walked to her car, unlocked the door, got in, drove home.
"Hi Claire, How was your day?"
"It was fine mom, how was yours?"
"Aww pretty good, what are you and John doing tonight, anything special?"
"No, he has pink eye, but I'm gonna go over there and help nurture him back to health," she snickers to herself.
"Ok, well dad and I are leaving at 5, so we will see you when you get home."
"Ok Mom, I'm gonna go clean up a lil' bit and then leave about 4:30, John has something he wants to ask me."
"Ok sweetheart, have fun, tell me bye before you leave, I Love you"
"Whatever, Luv ya too ma."
Runs upstairs, rounds the corner to her bedroom, takes her shoes off at the door, throws her book on the bed and purse on the floor, her whole closet lies on her bedroom floor, and the equivalent of her belongings are on the bed, she sleeps with it all. Turns on the flat iron, fills up the little cup with eye solution and takes her contacts out, goes to the closet, finds another pair of shoes, heels, it sure sucks being short. Looks in the mirror, still looks really good in her cute little white shirt and jeans and hot pink, patent leather pumps. Goes to the bathroom, runs the flat iron over her hair a few times, nice and smooth, quickly puts her contacts in and runs some more eyeliner over her eyelids and adds mascara to her eyelashes. Beautiful.
Runs down the stairs, trips on the cat, runs back up the stairs, grabs her purse and keys, runs back down the stairs, dodges the cat, hand on the doorknob.
"Bye Mom, see ya later, have fun."
"Wait, so what's John supossed to ask you?"
"I don't know, probably gonna ask me to prom, that would be cool."
"Well have fun, I won't keep you any longer, I love you, have fun with John, tell me what he asks you ok?"
"Kay mom, I gotta go I've got a date with destiny, so I need to leave before I'm late."
Chapter 3~A Date With Destiny
Friday, February 14th
She put her hand on the doorknob, opened the door, ran down the steps, and walked briskly down the sidewalk. Threw her purse over her shoulder, seperated her keys till she found the one she wanted, jammed it in the car door and turned. Door opened, imagine that, threw her purse into the back seat, right foot in, left foot in, plop down. "Ok, ready to go." Adjusted the mirror, pulled her seat forward, looked in the rear view mirror to check her hair, and sticks the key in the ignition. Starts, just like it always does, she rolls the car down the driveway, just like she always does, and pulls out of the neighborhood, just like always. Stops at the stop sign, sees the same scenery as always, just another day, but oh John, he's got something important to say to her, how exciting. She can't wait. She loves John and he loves her. Pulls up to the stoplight, same one as always, switches lanes in the middle of the intersection, even though she knows its wrong, turns, slows down, comes to a stop at the next stop sign. Starts again.
"4:30....takes 17 minutes to get there, 5 minutes into the trip...so about 10 minutes." WAM! She looks up as a garbage truck jams sideways into her little red 2 door, convertible mazda. The part of the truck that picks up the cans is through the place where her roof is supposed to be, she is looking at all of this while flying through the air. Ejected, no seatbelt, no roof, no more windshield. WAM! Tree. Her body is flung sideways across the tree and wrapped around it like a bungy cord. Pieces of her windshield are lodged into random parts of her body. She is bleeding profusely, her once white shirt is stained red, like a wedding cake adorned with red roses that have lost their petals. Her long brown hair is wrapped around her neck from where she was thrown across the tree trunk, and pieces of it are stuck to her lipgloss from where she was ejected. The impact of the car crash killed her instantly, her fragile body entangled in a sinner's nest. The impact of her body against the tree trunk bruised what wasn't already smashed. The blood is slick and her body begins to slide down the side of the tree onto the grass. As the grass sinks in upon the weight of her body, blades of grass begin to stick to the blood clots, encumbering her like a blanket of comfort. Everything she once knew was erased and everyone she knew was forgotten. She left the house for a date with destiny, and met it half way in between. Her fate came early, her years young, her dreams shattered, her nightmares gone. She was at peace, she was gone, she was killed instantly, she met with destiny.
The smoke rose up from the ground, blowing through the engine of the little red car. The tires had melted to the ground from the heat of the engine, and every window was shattered and spewed across the pavement. The hum of the engine could barely be heard over the roar of the sirens. Red, blue, and white lights danced across the scene, lighting up the already lit sky. The scene was scattered with bright lights, with a deep brightness which was not bright. The driver of the other truck was unharmed, and the truck hardly bruised. The street was adorned with onlookers. The onlookers looked on, for that is all they could do, half of them were in disbelief, the other half terrified. What could they do? There was nothing for them to do, so they looked on. The whole scene was a blur and indistinguishable, the smoke created a haze over the accident, and it looked as if a cloud had come down from the heavens to cover the blemish on earth. To say that everyone was crying and in a hysterical state would be histrionic, because the scene was quite, somber, soothing, almost eeringly calm. There were sundry things going on around everyone, and yet they calmly, cooly, collectedly gathered their things and carried on with their everyday business. The trauma of the accident was over, now all that had to be done was pick up with one's life and pull all the pieces of the puzzle back together. The puzzle temporarily fell off the table, the pieces weren't lost, simply disrupted. Soon everything would be back to normal, just like it always was.
A rap, tap, tap on the door, a mother's tears, a father's fears, a closed door, a black veil, a face pale, but the day must prevail.
Chapter 4~ The Power Of "I"
Saturday, Februaray 15th
The day after
What is going on? Where am I? How did I get here? Where is here? Who are all of those people? What are they doing? What is going on?
I see, but yet I don't feel, I hear, yet I don't know. Why are they crying? Is it because of me? Oh my God, it is, what have I done, why God, why now? I have so many years left. God! Why? Oh why? Can you hear me, can you save me? What did I do wrong, what did these people do to deserve this? God? Are you listening to me? Look at them...look at the pain I have caused them...what have I done? Why God, Why now....
"I'm sorry ma'am, there's nothing we could do. She was already gone when we got there. Is there anything we can do for you?"
Silence, some say it's golden, it is not golden when it is surreal. It is shocking, it is disturbing, it is a cat in the night, lurking, looming, waiting for you. Silence, it is deathly, it is gasping, it is eery. Silence. Why is silence never comforting?
There was silence in that room, it loomed, it gazed upon the scene happening below it, it waited. "No thank you, there is nothing we can do either right now, thank you for telling us, have a good night." She closed the door. "Honey..." There was a sudden thud on the floor, as she lied there in heaps, curled up in a ball, as if it was going to give her security and comfort. Atleast the silence was gone, that was all that mattered now, scared away by each word spoken, but it would be back.
I don't understand. Am I no longer there? My mother is passed out because of me? How did this happen? Claire turned her gaze to the left.
Chapter 5~I Once Had a Future
Monday, February 17th
The first day back
I once had a favorite quote, "Sometimes I can see the future stretched out in front of me--just as plain as day. The future hanging over there at the edge of my days. Just waiting for me." -Lorraine Hansberry
I once even had a future, I had a life with John, a plain life, but it was mine to call my own. I could see everything that I had plans to do, I could see all the reprecussions of my past plans. I could see all the wrong I had done, but not enough wrong to earn me the position I am in now. God?!? I know you can hear me...I have believed in you until this point, Lord, I need your help more than ever right now. Please, God, Please. My future is no longer waiting for me, it has arrived, help me, what do I do with it?
He woke up just like he always did, he put each foot on to the ground, one at a time, slowly, softly, smoothly. He took the inevitable walk to the mirror, just like every adolescent does. He stared, he stared back at himself, he slapped water on his face, and desperately tried to wash away the sleep from the previous night, then he took the towel and wiped his face, erasing all the water he had just worked so hard to put onto his face. But it didn't matter, he was just going through his daily routine. He walked to his closet, pulled out his Pink Flloyd tee-shirt, and extra faded jeans. He threw on his red converse shoes and put his studded belt on. Grabbed the armbands from the day before and messed up his hair. Somewhere he read that the "I just got out of bed" look was in style now. Awesome, it takes five seconds and lasts all day. No brushing, no washing, and no gel required, comfortable, easy and cheap...what an awesome idea. Took a look in the mirror, Claire will like this. She always likes what he wears, same goes for him too. He grabbed his bag, threw it over his shoulder, looked for his keys, found them just where they always were, go figure. Ran down the stairs, kissed his mom on the cheek and headed to school. The day was going to be great, he just knew it.
Look at him, he has no idea, he's so sweet and always unexpectant of what will happen next. Oh look at him, he has on my favorite shirt. He looks so cute. So...wait a minute...I'm not going to be there to greet and kiss him when he gets to school. Maybe no one will tell him why I'm not there, maybe no one knows, no one knows me, surely no one knows that I'm not there anymore. What is he going to do? Oh God, please comfort him, please help him to move on, for me, Lord, please help him move on.
She was the definition of the popular girl, the cheerleader, dumb, blonde, thin, tall and beautiful. She ruled her kingdom with a mini skirt and pumps. All the boys bowed down to her, except the quaterback of the football team, but that doesn't matter, she had him tied around her little finger. Her life was perfect, or so it seemed. If it wasn't nobody knew it and she didn't care to tell anyone. She was the soon to be trophy wife, looked good in the pictures, couldn't operate a computer, didn't know the difference between the wheel and the hub cap, but she was a girl, that was her excuse, always. That's right she was a girl, a snotty, catty girl, who had her nose in everyone's business constantly, and she loved every minute of it. She was the first one to make you feel lower than dirt, and the last one to walk on you. She would never get anywhere in life, she didn't care, she would have money and she would use every ounce of it. Her name was Mandy, she glided down the stairs and parted the student body seas.
"Hey babe, did you hear about Claire Vece?"
"No, who's Claire Vece?"
"I don't know, supossedly she's in our grade, I don't think anyone knows her, anyway she died in a car wreck friday night on her way to her boyfriend's house."
"Oh My Gosh! Are you serious?!? That's horrible, how did you hear about it? Her poor family, oh her poor boyfriend, who is her boyfriend anyways?"
"Oh I know, I feel terrible, why did this have to happen to her? Yeah her boyfriend is John somebody...I'm not exactly sure what his last name is, but he's in my 4th hour history class."
"Well speaking of 4th hour, we are going to be late, luv you babe, gosh I feel so bad for her."
"Alright bye babe, luv you too, see ya Mandy."
Chapter 6~Silent Sobs
Monday, February 17th
The First Day back once again.
I heard someone crying, who though could it be? Maybe it was mother calling out for me, maybe it was father all alone and lost and cold, I heard someone crying, maybe it was me.
Maybe I'm not so far away. I heard someone crying, look down there, who could it be? Maybe I was dreaming of the way things used to be, maybe I was dreaming of the life I never knew. I heard someone crying, maybe it was me. Who else could it be? I'm crying for my mother, crying for my father, crying for the way things used to be. There is no one else to cry but me.
She rules the school with her pumps, they bow down to her, they clean up her messes, they wish they were her, they wish they could be, if only for a day. She is too far away for them to get close to her, she is too close for them to hide anything from her. She doesn't care who is there, she will walk right over them.
"John, I'm so sorry to hear about Claire, that's just terrible."
"Thanks, but nothing is wrong with her."
"John?!? Have you not heard?!? Claire was killed in a car wreck friday night, I thought you would have known by now."
"Mandy, please tell me you're kidding, this joke is not funny, Mandy, get over yourself, just because I don't bow down to you doesn't mean that you have to make up sick things like this, Mandy this is not funny."
"No John, I'm not kidding, she really did, did you not watch the news?"
"Mandy, leave."
"Whatever, but please know I feel terrible about it, she was such an amazing girl, I'm so sorry."
"Thanks."
There is no other person worse for him to find out from than her....Why, she's so fake, she doesn't know me, how can she know if I'm amazing or not. John....God please let me help him, Lord, please, he needs my help more than ever now, and I'm not there, God, I hate you, why did you do this to me now?
His legs turned to iron, he felt queezy, he couldn't move, he could not speak, he couldn't think. Is this true? Lord, please don't let it be. CLAIRE!!!!!!
"JOHN!!!....Someone help, someone, John has fainted."
"Who is John, why did he faint?"
"John is in my history class, he was Claire's boyfriend, Oh come on, don't tell me you all don't know who Claire Vece is, she died friday night in a car wreck, isn't that terrible? He didn't know until I told him just now."
"I can't say that I know who Claire is, but that is horrible. Let's get him to the nurse"
For one small instant her prissiness had faded, her snottiness had stopped, she almost acted like she cared there for a minute. In fact she wasn't the only one who suddenly acted as if they 1. knew who Claire Vece was 2. knew who John Lennox was, and 3. acted as if they were directly affected. In fact the whole school was in mourning. If only they knew who for. Mandy was the social butterfly she could spread rumors like wildfire, and then she could tell the most important person in that school to Claire, that she felt sorry for him.
Look at them down there, acting as if they knew who I was, acting as if they even cared. Look at them down there, watch them, watch them wander around like lost kittens, meek and mild, totally stunned by this new news. I have stopped them from their busy lives, look at that. They are all hopelessly wandering around because of me. The floor looks up at them, telling them to walk, but not telling them which way. The ceiling looks down on them, closing them in, preventing the sheer chaos that looms.
They act like they are all my best friends. They act as though they knew me all too well. They act like they just can't go on with their lives. What will put their souls to rest and stop their ceaseless sighing, why do they call out my name? Why is John surrounded by so many people that wear masks. Masks that cry, masks that are somber, masks that wear a fake smile to cheer him up partly, why must we all wear masks?
Chapter 7~The Date is Over
Tuesday, February 18th
The funeral
It was early morning, before the sun had risen. Her bed laid tall as trees, wide as the river. The wind howled and sang out to her, the sky stood still, the moon looked down upon her, watching her, waiting for her to move, The moon was not the only thing watching her. She laid there sobbing, crying out for her daughter. Disturbing the darkness, looking at all the stars above her in the skies, looking for that one pair of eyes. She remembered Claire from her childhood. Dancing in front of the television, her long hair flowing behind her like ribbons dancing in the wind, dancing to whatever music happened to be playing across the screen. Her little white Mary Jane shoes, tapping on the floor, her skirt twirling around her like a parasail. She remembered the year Claire turned 10. First double digit age, the surprise party she threw for her, the white limo that pulled up to the driveway, and all of Claire's friends that jumped out and ran up to the door screaming "Happy Birthday Claire!!" She remembered the look on Claire's face when she walked out her front door and saw the little red 2 door Mazda with the bright silver bow wrapped on top.
She remembered the times that she yelled at her daughter, the time Claire screamed back for the first time. She remembered the knit picky things that she would get mad at her for. The "Tie your shoes" when she was 2, the "Put your jacket on before you go out to play" when she was 6, the "What did you just say to me?" when she was 9, the "No, you can't have a boyfriend right now" when she was 12 and the "Make your right turns smaller, and watch out for those cars" when she turned 16. Now firmly planted in her memory to hold forever, she remembered the last thing Claire said to her, "...I gotta go I've got a date with destiny, so I need to leave before I'm late." Why didn't she tell her that she loved her? All mothers love their daughters, and neither of the two ever seem to tell eachother that they love one another often enough. Claire had a date with destiny, she was right about that.
"Excuse me, excuse me class, thank you. Claire Vece's funeral is today at two, at the First Baptist Church on North street. For those of you who were close to her, the family has invited you to come to the funeral, but your parents must call before you are permitted to leave school. You may leave as early as one to get there in time and get a good seat. The rest of you are to stay in school, keep in mind you are only allowed to go if you were a good friend of her or the family. Thank you for your attention, you are dismissed to 2nd hour."
Look at them down there...squirming around like dead carcasses. I'm dead, and not even I look or feel as pitiful as they do down there. Half of them do not even know who I am. The other half could care less about me. Look at them...wandering around like lost souls...slaving their way through their everyday routines. Something has stirred them. Something has changed that routine. I am that something. Look at them down there...crying, and whining, and acting as if they knew who I was, cared who I was, saw who I was. They didn't see me when I was there, they don't see me now. I wonder how many will be there to mourn for me at two o'clock.
She was daddy's little girl. She was mommy's little angel. More importantly, she was daddy's little girl. He loved her. He loved her with all his heart, with his entire body, he held her tight, he thought about her all the time, he protected her, he fought with her, he fought for her. She was his, he was hers. He was her first love, her first hate, her first hero, her first man. He loved her with all that he was. He talked about her to everyone, he bragged about her, he was so proud to be able to be called her father. Even if she wasn't the allstar athlete, or the drama queen, or the math nerd, or the class president, she was his. He didn't care that other parents had all these things to brag about their children and all he had to brag about was that him and his daughter had a close relationship, he cared about that relationship, and didn't compare it to anyone else. She had his eyes. His deep, thoughtful, beautiful, hazel eyes. The eyes that could see good in wrong, beautiful in ugly, scared beneath calmness. Their eyes are what linked them together. Tying the knot of father to daughter, and giving them the strength to get up and try again, oh how he needed those eyes right now. The news hit him hard. There's a certain eeriness about having your children die before you. He would find out what it was like to bury your child at two o'clock today.
It's one thing to lose your friends because of a fight or a break up. It's another thing to lose your friends because of their death. It's one of those things that you only imagine happening when you are eighty, and everyone is dying of old age and you have alzheimer's disease and can't remember who your friends are anyways.But to lose your friends at 17, that doesn't happen. Not now, not never, it doesn't happen to anyone close to you, it's unbearable, it's unimaginable and it is supposed to only happen to people on TV. Now all of the above mentioned things, aren't supposed to happen as it is, but for all of that to happen when the friend was on their way to your house, that doesn't happen either. Now take all of that, and put that friend as a girlfriend. That adds a whole new dimension to the story. If he hadn't had pink eye, if he had been at school, if it hadn't been valentine's day, if it had been any other day, she wouldn't have driven to see him, and it wouldn't have happened, if only he hadn't asked her to come, then he wouldn't call himself responsible for the whole ordeal.
I wish it had all been a mistake. I wish I wasn't watching this. I wish I was there with them. I wish I was anywhere but here. You know, all my life, I have run late, everyone joked about how I would be late to my own funeral. Well, I'm not, in fact I'm early. This feeling is new to me, I was early to my fate, and now I'm early to my funeral, I have never been early to anything, ever, maybe it just took my own death to get me on time to wherever it is that I'm supposed to be.
Two O'clock came too soon. The entire sanctuary was full. Full of people the family had never even seen before. Their church was huge, they didn't expect it to be more than 12 pews full. All 70 pews were full. Young faces, young mournful faces. One face was missing, John's.
Daddy's little girl wasn't an athlete, mommy's little angel wasn't Miss. Popular. Everyone knew that. Daddy's little girl wasn't on student council. Mommy's little angel wasn't in any clubs or anything. Everyone knew that too. John's girlfriend wasn't friends with any of these people. And everyone knew that too.
Even every person that was there, knew this, they knew they didn't belong, they knew they were fake mourners. Like those fish that lay on the bottom of the ocean and wait for their prey, pretending to be asleep, waiting to pounce and then continue on with their everyday lives. Like actors, acting out a sad scene, that is what they were doing, acting, getting out of class. They all knew it, they all knew who Claire was, and yet in the same sense, not one of them really knew anything at all about who Claire Vece was. Claire was the girl that sat in the back of class and didn't mind, Claire was the girl that died a few days ago, of course everyone knew that. Claire didn't know any of these people were either, and that was the sad thing about the scene. A lot of these people even knew that Claire had no idea who they were. John knew it would be that way. John knew the whole school was faking a sad scene from a movie. John knew how the funeral would turn out before it even started. No one knew who John was either. John was the only face that was not noticed, and noticed all at once.
"We are here today to celebrate the life of Claire Vece. The acheivements she made, the lives she touched, the people in her life that touched her. We are here today to celebrate Claire." Fake sobs, mixed with real sobs. The mood of the funeral was set off by the fakeness of the people sitting there. Skipping class, pretending to care, going out to eat afterwards, just doing the appropriate thing for a fellow deseased classmate.
What is it like to bury your child? The parents wouldn't know. They were too distracted by the people that showed up. Not that it is anything that one would want to remember. But it is one of those expierences that you must go through in life. All they could remember was the bagpipers playing "Amazing Grace" and the quiet stiffled sobs in the background. Not their own, they couldn't hear their own. Not until now, could they hear their own sobs. Leaning on one another in the front seat of their car on the side of the road. It was the first time either of them had really broken down. The first time they had really, truly, let it all come out, together, in eachother's arms. Daddy had his hands wrapped around Mommy's neck, holding her tight, hugging her, supporting her. Mommy wrapped her arms around his waist, holding on to him, bracing him, offering him the comfort only a mother give in a time of need. But ask them what they needed, and neither of them would have been able to answer you through their loud cries and heavy breathing. They needed eachother more now than ever.
She cried. She broke down in tears. She let out loud sobs, she let her body rise and fall with each breath. She let her face turn bright red. She allowed herself to cry for the first time in a long time. Cying showed weakness. She was weak, she was going to allow it to show. Watching her parents made her cry harder. She had never seen them cry before, but then again they had never seen her cry. She watched them through tears, a fuzzy view, blurry, but distinct. That sight would not leave her. She turned around, she couldn't bare to watch it anymore, and yet the memory would not leave. She cried more, real hard, for the first time in ages.
Chapter 8~ For What it is Worth
Wednesday, February 19th
The day after
He laid on the fresh dirt. He smelled the sweet smell of the fresh cut grass. He felt the dirt collapse under his body as he rested himself upon it. He gently touched the dew kissed grass next to him. He laid on his back watching the clouds above him. He watched them flow above him, making pictures with the soft white and the deep bright blue colors. He laid his head on the cold, hard rock behind him. He heard the birds singing and he watched the clouds dancing, and felt the soothing dirt and grass around him and felt at peace. He reached above his head and touched the engraved letters on the tombstone. Freshly engraved, placed on top of the freshly laid dirt, surrounded by the fresh cut grass. This world to him was new. He touched the letters, tracing them, cutting his finger into the crevices, rounding around every letter, each greatly defined. The letters said, "One life. One love. One dream." He didn't have to turn over and read the letters, he knew what they said, he had stared at them through tears just minutes before. Now as he ran his fingers over them he permanently engraved them into his memory, the texture, the sayings, the feeling he got as he rubbed them. Every word took on a new meaning, every crevice felt deeper than the one before, every letter hurt more. He put his arms across his stomach, resting there, watching the clouds, thinking of her. Their favorite pasttime was to lay in Mr. Manning's field watching the clouds and making pictures out of them. Now as he laid there, those memories flooded back to him, so quickly he couldn't distinguish one from the other. He laid there until it got dark, then he got up and drove home. He thought of her and all the times they shared, and he blamed himself for her death, then he went to bed and slept on all of those mixed feelings, as if to smash them all away.
Dear God, I don't hate you. I love you. I need you. Dear God, where are you? Help me, Lord, I need you now, Lord forgive me, take back all that I said to you, I don't hate you. Lord, please, be with me now, Lord please, be with my family, be with John, help him to realize that all of this is not his fault. Lord, I love him, I love you, be with me, be with John, be with everyone that was close to me. And Lord, one last thing, be with all of those people that came to my funeral that didn't know me, help them to realize what they are doing, help them take off their masks, Lord, help me not to hate them. If you can forgive me, maybe, just maybe, I can forgive them.
The funeral was over, she could stop pretending. She didn't know who Claire really was. She knew that Claire had hair that seriously needed some highlights, she knew that Claire had a great figure that so could have used some better clothes. She also knew that the mall was open and she desperately needed to go shopping for a new mini skirt and some heels. She hadn't talked to her boyfriend in a few hours now, she needed to call him. She looked at her watch, yeah football practice was over, he would be waiting on her to call, imagine that. She got in her car and drove towards everyday life, the life of Miss. Popular, away from Claire Vece and the mourning mask.
The pastor said that in order to get on with your life, you have to just continue doing what you did before they passed away. So Mom went to work, Dad went to work, the cat rested on the stairs, undisturbed by someone running down the stairs and into the cat. Her bedroom door was shut. Shut away from the rest of the world, with the flat iron still laying on her bathroom counter, and her contact case wide open from where she had last left it. The towel was still thrown across the floor. Her bed was unmade, her closet door was flung open, showing the rush from the days before. Her clothes were all over her floor, and no one touched them, no one moved them. The door was shut, shut to all that walked by. The memorys were also shut in that room, temporarily atleast, they planned on leaving it like that, forever, or until they were forced to clean it out. Mom got home from work, made dinner, Dad came home, ate dinner with Mom, talked about their day and all that happened, sat out by the pool, then went inside to get ready for bed. Everything was normal again. Just one less person, but it appeared to be normal again for the most part. It had to be, they had to get on with their lives.
John woke up the next morning firmly planted his feet on the floor, slowly stood up, very slowly. His back felt like it was getting ready to break, maybe he just needed to pop it. He shuffled to his bathroom. Stared at himself in the mirror, reached down, and put his glasses on, took them off again, rubbed his eyes, turned on the faucet and ran water over his hands then slowly lifted them up to his face, moved them around until his face felt clean, then with his eyes closed, grabbed for his towel and abrasively rubbed it across his face. Put his glasses back on and took the inevitable walk to the closet to put clothes on. He looked for his Weezer shirt, found it where he last put it, and threw on his red converse shoes and his faded jeans, put on the green armbands and shut the closet doors. He then preceded to grab his backpack and walked downstairs, out to his car, got in, turned the key, and drove to school. Just like any other day.
What?!? What are they doing down there?!? Don't they know that I'm not there anymore?!? Don't they remember?!? Hello!! Remember that one girl, you know, Claire Vece...she passed away a few days ago, remember her? She was in that terrible wreck, ejected from her car? Thrown around a tree, remember you went to her funeral just yesterday...Of course you don't, you didn't know her when she was there, you can't remember that she's not there know if you didn't know that she was there to begin with. But John, your girlfriend? Don't you miss me? Don't you remember me? Mom, come on I know you are there...I know you loved me...I know you and Dad miss me. But can you please show it a little bit. I know that you were told to forget me, to continue on with your everyday lives, but I miss you, I need you to miss me too. But if you don't, then I must deal with it, and if you must continue on without me I must deal with that too. Lord help me deal with all of this
For what it's worth God, I am glad that they are returning to their lives. I was sick of being the center of attention. I got my fifteen minutes of fame. The best way too, alone, where no one knew who I was, and what I had achieved. That's how my life used to be, and I couldn't handle anymore attention. I just want to return to the way things used to be for me. For what it's worth God I like where I am, and what I have done. For what it's worth God, I love you, and I am ready to be with you forever. For what it's worth I have seen all I need to see.
That day at school everyone was back to aimlessly wandering around. They all saw eachother again, they all had eachother again. They put their masks on and they all went back to their everyday lives. The funeral was over, they could return to the way things used to be, they played their part, she would get a special page in the yearbook and they would remember it years from now. They would remember the road she was killed on and they wouldn't think about it for years, but they also wouldn't think about Claire for years, because they were not close to her, and they never knew her to begin with. As far as knowing her and remembering her? Well, Claire Vece was just another line on the road.
THE END |
Anyways...I gotta get outta this mood....God it's in your hands...it's all in your hands...I know you got it, I just want it, real bad, I like control like that. Isaiah 40:8 once again...look it up, it helps me realize that sometimes...God is still bigger than me and that things will pass eventually, and that everything is gonna be ok, thanks you all for everything!
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