The Start?

“You’re here?”

The question comes from behind me. The voice is gruffer than I remember, but then, I haven’t heard it since elementary school. That was almost twenty years ago. Who knows what’s happened in all that time? It’s not like Facebook posts tell the entire story.

I don’t turn around right away. Not because I’m too nervous to answer. The question holds no malice, just expected surprise. Out of everyone present, why the hell am I here? Do I even have the right?

Finally, after a deep breath, I face the questioner. I smile at her, though this isn’t a pleasant reason for meeting. “Yeah.”

Skylar frowns. The lines around her mouth tell me she does this a lot. Their existence isn’t shocking. She has two kids with the person she’s been with since high school. While we didn’t keep in touch after I moved in sixth grade, I heard all about her relationship dilemmas. For her children’s sake, I hope her husband’s cheating isn’t as obvious as it once was.

“I didn’t know that you and Bri were talking again before…” Skylar says.

I could, and maybe should, lie here, but I don’t. It’s against my nature, even when the lie is trivial and could make my life easier. “We weren’t.”

Skylar’s frown deepens. Confusion pulls at her eyes, which are still as gold and mischievous as I remember them. “Ah.”

Her reaction isn’t new. From the moment I entered the funeral home twenty minutes ago, I’ve gotten a similar one from everyone who recognizes me. Skylar’s just the first person to approach me and the only one to address me. However, there are whispers behind hands and unsubtle glances my way. They all got worse when I went to the coffin to pay my last respects to Bri.

“Yeah,” I say again.

“You do know that—” Skylar's gaze darts over my head. She forces a small smile at whoever is there. “Hey, Sandy.”

My eyes slowly close. I struggle to breathe, which only pisses me off. Why is my heart in my throat? Of course, she’s here. The last time I snooped on her Facebook page, I saw she was still great friends with Bri. Last summer, they went on a road trip to Kentucky. Sandy is Bri’s son’s godmother.

Granted, I didn’t think Sandy would have the guts to come anywhere near me. Of the two of us, I was always the braver one. Confrontation doesn’t scare me.

Well, that’s partially true, isn’t it?

Hearing her name and sensing her standing behind me skyrockets my anxiety. I’m not ready for what’s coming, even though I spent all last night rehearsing several scenarios. When will I learn that imagining every outcome can’t soften reality?

“Hi, Skylar.”

My eyes pop open.

Sandy sounds the same. Quiet. Unassuming. Approachable. The person you want to get to know, to befriend. You can tell all your secrets to her, confident she’ll keep them close to her heart.

Skylar looks at me and then over my shoulder again. Then her attention darts to the small group who’ve gathered around Bri’s coffin. “I’m going to—” She points in that direction. “Do you mind?”

I don’t know if she’s talking to me or Sandy, but I shake my head. Sandy tells her to go.

Skylar doesn’t need to be told twice. She’s gone before I can blink.

Watching her leave, I wonder why I don’t go with her. I don’t want to continue our lackluster conversation, but rather prevent the awaiting disaster. Hell, I can even walk out of the building. I’ve said my goodbyes. I’ve done more than what’s necessary. I’m in the clear.

Yet, my feet don’t take me to safety. Instead, they force me to do a one-eighty. I’m now directly in front of the last person I ever want to speak to again. Six years have been too long since being in her presence. Six years isn’t enough time for my heart to have healed.

I thought it had. Sure, I check in on her online every so often, but less frequently than I used to. Between those times, she rarely crosses my mind. Long gone are the days when I constantly thought about how she treated me and all the times I should have walked away before I finally gave up on her. I haven’t cried over what I lost in over a year.

“Hey, Kass,” Sandy mumbles. She’s staring at my chin. Red blooms on her cheeks.

Time hasn’t aged her. We’re both nearing thirty, and she could pass for a decade younger. Her hair’s as thick and untamed as always. She’s still as tiny as a bird, though I notice a distinctive roundness in her middle. In the black dress she wears, it’s hard to tell if it’s extra weight brought on by too many snacks or the sign of a growing life.

Every bit of me hopes it’s the first possibility. As far as I’m aware, she’s still with Tyler, and she can’t have his baby. She gave up college because of him. She works two jobs because he can’t be bothered to stay employed. He’s made her homeless multiple times because of the stupidest arguments. Once, right before her messages grew shorter and less frequent, she admitted she had to go to Urgent Care because he got mad.

Having that monster’s baby will ruin her life. She’ll be just like her mother. She’ll be—

Why do I care so much? Still?

She doesn’t deserve my concern. How many times over the past six years have I needed her, and she wasn’t there? I endured so much bullshit because of her during our friendship, and she couldn’t be bothered to keep in touch. Unlike Bri, I never made her cry, played cruel pranks on her in high school, or hurt her to make myself feel better, yet Bri was her best friend. Sandy bent over backwards to make sure Bri stayed in her life.

Sandy loved Bri more than she ever did me.

“Hey,” I grunt back.

This one word burns my throat. My nose is clogged, the telltale sign I’m moments away from crying. I can’t. Not in front of her or in front of the surrounding audience. I lost some self-respect by coming to Bri’s funeral, but I won’t lose all of it by shedding tears and having others think I’m mourning.

“How, um, are you?”

“Isn’t it strange to ask that at a funeral?”

Sandy shrugs, still avoiding looking directly at me. “Well, isn’t this all strange?”

“No.”

Sandy’s eyebrows furrow. “No?”

It isn’t strange that Bri died. She never was a good driver, especially at night, but her pride wouldn’t let her admit that. She refused to take lessons or to avoid driving. I knew one day something catastrophic would happen. I’m not saying she deserves to be in the box sitting in the next room, but anyone could have predicted this outcome. Thankfully, her son wasn’t in the car with her when she flipped it.

I don’t think it’s strange that I’m here. Not really, if you think about it for more than five seconds. At one point, Bri and I were really close. I’m the reason she even met Sandy. I’m the one who encouraged them to get along so we could all be the best of buds. Until I moved and every dynamic changed, I spent more time at Bri’s house than Sandy’s. Once I loved her, too.

And, of course, Sandy would do everything in her power to come. Even if she’s still with Tyler and he’s as big of a dick as always, he wouldn’t have kept Sandy from the funeral. Bri was their biggest supporter. She even helped Sandy sneak around with Tyler while still with her ex, who is Bri’s cousin. They were a super close trio who enabled each other’s shittiest behaviors.

“No,” I repeat.

Sandy clicks her tongue against the back of her teeth, but she doesn’t respond.

Silence forms a bubble around us that the surrounding noise can’t penetrate. I can’t tell from her expression what she’s thinking. I try to keep my swirling emotions off my face. It’s so much harder than I wish, and that enrages me more, but I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing that she affects me in any way. She lost the right to that when she gave up on our friendship.

The minutes pass, and I ask myself, what am I waiting for? Why am I dragging this out? Am I hoping for an apology? Do I think that Bri’s death has caused Sandy to rethink how she’s treated me?

I need to walk away.

But that’s physically harder to do than deleting a phone number. It’s a billion times more difficult than logging off Facebook. It’s nearly impossible compared to leaving a store after thinking I caught a glimpse of her.

I still love her. She was my sister. My confidant. At times, she was the only person who could keep me out of the jaws of depression that constantly threatened to snap around me in our teens. Long ago, she made life worth living.

We can never return to that. I can’t trust her, and I don’t want to. No apology, no amount of atoning will ever be enough to erase all the heartache she’s caused me. Forgiveness is too good for her.

Yet, the love I have for her hasn’t faded. I’m stuck with it for the rest of my life. It’s a burden that will always weigh me down.

I hate it.

But I can’t hate Sandy.

“I’m… done,” I say.

Finally, Sandy looks at me. Her eyes widen. “You’re going?”

“Yes.”

Sandy’s lips press into a thin line. “Okay.”

My feet now obey me, and I turn away from her. Slow, sure steps carry me toward the front door. Sandy doesn’t call out to me. I don’t glance back at her. My chest is heavier than when we spoke, but my thoughts are lighter. Perhaps I can start truly healing.