Dead on Impact

These three words explain her shattered dreams. Like the storm pouring from the sky, torrential devastation grips her. Grief shackles and clutch every part of her body. Her life has been stripped away and her heart is dead.

With the exception of that horrid headline, her father, Stefen assures her that the TV news stories and tabloids all over the country reported his death with great sadness as he was a popular icon: “Michael Desport, Super Star killed in an airplane accident.”

The stories stated how beloved he was, that his talent as an actor was fun and engaging. But the articles speak of her life off-handily, as if it were just any other day. Not that it matters, because the public doesn’t know an overwhelming numbness guides her and so what people say or do has no real bearing on her anymore.

Even friends and family have tried to comfort her but all of it has fallen on deaf ears since panic, anxiety and depression consume her.

Riding in the back of the limo Lauren Ashlynn glances out the window. Sheets of water deluge it which blurs her thoughts. She remembers another time with Michael. He loved thunder storms, the rain, but especially the lightning.

“It makes for a magic of t’e universe, granting us t’eir unconditional love and support. A light show of drama but in a grand way, don’t ye know.” His Irish brogue would always interrupt his regular California accent when he was intimate with her.

“I just don’t understood t’at people remark t’at I have an accent of California. I love t’e Irish. But California? T’at is nutty!” He often said.

Lauren would laugh at this and kiss his cheek to calm his confoundedness and remark. “You know you can look and sound however you like. You’re allowed!” Then he’d take her into his arms and love her up. She especially loved that part.

A thunder boom interrupts her reverie, forcing her to focus on the throngs of people waiting outside the Saint Monica Catholic Church for his service. She trembles at the leave of his embrace, as it felt so real, the touch and smell of him too. She unquietly laments. “Oh God Dad, how am I going to get through this?”

“Hold on Lauren, I am here for you.” Stefen attempts to calm her. She lays her head on his shoulder and he whispers soothingly to her tear stained face and bloodshot eyes. The black veil barely hides her excruciation.

When the long, black limousine stops, Stefen helps her out while shielding her with an umbrella. Her elegant, black heels are immediately soaked through as she lifts her little shelter to look up to see the beautiful old mission church that Michael dearly adored. She pauses to send him a blessing, as the rain pummels her.

The walkway and few steps isn’t that far, yet it seems to take forever to get through the swarm of umbrellaed people barricaded off from their line of passage. The storm hammers the small shields, sounding like thousands of bombs going off and pounding in her head.

“…too bad he was cut down in his prime…” She hears from someone.

Another calls out to her. “He was such a well loved man.”

All of which makes her cringe and shudder more, collapsing any left over resolve she had. Lauren holds onto her father’s arm ever so tightly. Then suddenly an angry woman forces her way into her path, knocking she and Stefen off balance. Police fumble to catch them as the stranger viciously shouts and spits in Lauren’s face. “He was mine, not yours, you bitch…” She is quickly hauled off by security.

It feels like an eternity, even with the help of their escorts. They eventually reach the doors and enter the majestic antechamber, trembling in shock. The couple is helped off with their overcoats and they take minutes to catch their breaths.

But just as Lauren settles from the rain and drama, someone’s umbrella flings water onto her entire being. Startled, she drops her head in defeat. Lauren looks down at her beautiful, black-silk suit with dread, enduring with being soaked through. What’s more, she can feel her make-up running.

Stefen is immediately at her side adding support. “Darling, I’m sorry for this. Let’s get you to the restroom to dry you up.”

“It doesn’t matter. Nothing does.” She moans. “Let’s go in.”

Stefen guides her away from the area and leads her on the long walk into the expansive sanctuary as murmurings of the congregation echo. Faces are a blur.

He stops where her mother is in the front pew. Joseanne Ashlynn’s tight-lipped smile for the audience hides her strident tone to spat at her. “You must sit here, after all you and Michael were going to be married. And what is the matter with you? You are a drowned rat.” Her vindictiveness and glaring daggers claw through Lauren’s delicate state further.

Lauren has learned through the years that her mother has never been loving or caring toward her. This time obviously is no different. Resigned to the master of etiquette however, she obeys and fumbles with the obvious.

Stefen balances Lauren’s quivering panic at this and steers her to sit in the pew as Joseanne designates. He sits between the women to diffuse the unsteadiness. It doesn’t work as his wife bends his ear to admonish him causticly all the while holding her fake smile in place to maintain her propriety decorum.

Lauren is in a tunnel, so when her name is called out, she has difficulty identifying where the sound comes from. Barring when people utter. “He is with God now…”

She loses control of her desperate attempt to maintain a silent composure. Lauren is now done and cries out. “NO. God can’t have him because he promised he would never leave me.”

Shaking and sobbing into Stefen’s arms, he holds her protectively close. There is a hum of consolation at this outburst; the shaking of heads and wiping tears in understanding. But there are also gasps as people cover their mouths in appall.

“Hush child.” Joseanne demands. “Stop making a scene.”

As a consequence, she continues to shiver as if it were a blustery January morning instead of the hot, muggy and rare May downpour in Santa Monica, California.

Faint hauntings of bagpipes begin to sound at the back of the church. She closes her eyes as they distract her to a time when she could see his twinkling leprechaun eyes and mischievous smile. When she could hear his contagious laugh and be pulled out of her despair for a brief moment.