September 22nd was a day of significance circled in red on Lizzy's calendar. This was supposed to be the day of her wedding; a special day with her special person. Yet, that Sunday was nothing like anyone could have ever expected.
Life right then and there felt like a murky, blurry distortion. The days following the incident felt lethargic and surreal.
But there she was, clothed in black in a crowd of people who were also clothed in colors of mourning. Instead of walking down the aisle like everyone had envisioned, Lizzy was lurking by the window, avoiding the looks of pity from the guests.
On Friday, 6PM, the string of fate that bound David's path with Lizzy's was severed. He didn't make it.
In the span of a week, organizing a wedding quickly became a task of organizing a funeral. The Richter's handled most of the particulars. Lizzy was in such a shock that she forgot to inform her mother. Upon learning of the incident through the grapevine, Martha McShaw appeared on her daughter's doorstep with a suitcase and eyes filled with tears.
"I'm so sorry my darling, I don't know what else to say," she had sobbed, immediately pulling her daughter in for a hug.
Lizzy's emotions had her thoughts whizzing and her heart constricting. Still, she had yet to actually cry. Perhaps, she thought to herself, she had been trying to downplay reality. However, at the service, there was no escaping the truth.
The cherry wood coffin, polished and decked with flowers, stood on display.
Mrs. Richter had made a touching speech about her son's life, including all the wonderful things he had in store for himself. Lizzy felt some eyes keenly directed towards her. Briefly, she stood to thank everyone for coming, expressing how great of a person her beloved was. Her words had caught in her throat. Thankfully, nothing more was expected of her, and she supposed it was for the best. David's brother, Sam, had given her a light squeeze on her shoulder before taking the spotlight.
She recalled the crowd at the chapel. The slow organ music, crying girls from high school, other vaguely familiar faces, and the relatives who stood around at a loss for words. Candles were lit, flowers were given, and the coffin was lowered. After the events of the funeral, the Richter home was open for tea and snacks. Lizzy felt completely out of place.
Somehow, in the corner of the room, away from the chattering and sobbing of the relatives, she felt a sense of unease. Never, in her life, had she ever been in this house without David alongside her. It felt different now. Wrong.
"What a heartbreaking situation, I tell you it's those automatic cars these days. That's what causes most of these accidents. The previous models were so much safer— you're actually more in control."
Lizzy tried not to focus on the murmurs. Honestly, she didn't want to think about the wreckage. When she had arrived, there was glass shattered everywhere, blinking lights, and the murmurs of bystanders. The fact that her phone's battery was drained had delayed her presence considerably. The rift in communication and missed calls resulted in her arriving too late to follow the paramedics, who had already carted David off to the hospital. When she stepped out of her car, Lizzy felt her knees give in. She had to be driven the rest of the way by Sam, who had remained behind to wait for her.
Someone was speeding during peak hour. The other car had skirted off the side, while David's had tumbled over. The details of it all were irrelevant to her. The fact of the matter was that the other person had survived. David hadn't. Lizzy's stomach clenched with acidic burn. She breathed in deeply and flickered her eyes across the room. She noticed Sam looking at her. He offered her a weak smile, before turning his attention to a relative.
Lizzy got out her cell phone, giving into the urge to find a photo. She scrolled through her gallery. David's sparkling eyes greeted her, his pristine white teeth peeking out from behind his wide smile. A smile that she would never see again.
"There you are, Lizzy, how are you doing?" asked a familiar face, eyes brimming with tears. It was a classmate from high school. Lizzy had spied a few of them throughout the day. She wasn't sure what kind of answer the woman was expecting.
"It's hard," she offered.
A little later, someone sniffed, alerting Lizzy of their presence. An older lady with grey hair, a member of David's family perhaps, started a conversation. Lizzy twitched her lip in an attempt at a polite smile. The old woman tittered on about her best memories of dear David; how proud she was when she heard that he was on the football team back in the day, and how her daughter had often played with him when they were toddlers.
Soon, Lizzy excused herself and went into the kitchen, where some people were helping themselves to tea as they stood in a semi-circle around the tiny form of Mrs. Richter. A few children were playing on the floor, crawling beneath the table as if it was just an ordinary Sunday visit.
Without warning, Lizzy's mind conjured up the image of what could have been: David and a child of their own playing hide and seek beneath the table. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block her thoughts.
When she opened her eyes, she looked up to see Mrs. Richter offering her a nod of acknowledgment.
"Do you know where Tarryn is?" Lizzy asked.
"The maid of honour?" Mrs. Richter's voice was raspy and weak. Lizzy detected a hint of bitterness therein. "I haven't seen her since the service," she revealed, before turning her attention back to the women near her.
Ah. So Tarryn didn't stay too long. She felt a slight sting of hurt when she recalled her friend's tight schedule these days— a silly reaction, since they were adults with responsibilities now and no longer carefree high schoolers. She remembered briefly seeing her friend in the chapel, tears and sympathies abound. The brunette had greeted her with red, scratchy eyes and a crushing hug. Lizzy felt her lips tug, craving the warmth of her friend's comfort. Craving the warmth of David's presence.
What she needed most of all was her composure. The minute she stepped out of the kitchen, she felt her heart lurch. Someone instantly recognizable was standing there. A particular older man that she recalled the cops had been talking to. His head shone with perspiration, thin wisps of hair giving the impression that he was balding. He was standing right there, unashamedly, among the guests. Arm in a sling, but very much alive and well.
Next to her, she felt the presence of Mrs. Richter. "Is that...?" the woman trailed off, her face pale. She gripped onto the side of the doorframe for support.
"What is he doing here?" Lizzy wondered aloud, her voice barely above a whisper.
Everyone else at the gathering was reasonably oblivious to the tension in the air. Then, she saw Sam approaching the man. She watched the man offer a few words, possibly condolences. Sam was saying something. He then glanced briefly to the kitchen door, his gaze meeting those of the two women momentarily before averting it.
"I can't bear to talk to that man, no, not now. Not as long as I live," Mrs. Richter spun on her heels, briskly, and went into the kitchen. Lizzy desperately wanted to follow. However, she felt her eyes glued to the old man— the murderer.
How had he heard about the funeral? Had he attended the service? How could he have the nerve to come in the first place?
He seemed intent on avoiding looking in her direction. After what appeared to be a few parting words, Sam left to attend to the other guests. As he walked by, he looked at Lizzy, acknowledging her with a small albeit uncomfortable smile.
Lizzy found herself admiring his strength, the fact that he had his emotions reigned in enough to talk to the man at all. Then again, Sam had always been the mature one, she recalled.
The older man stood in silence, abandoned in the room of strangers. He raised his beady eyes to look at Lizzy.
Perturbed, she wasn't sure whether to ignore him or to continue staring him down. Turns out, she didn't need to make a decision. Within a matter of seconds, he ducked his head and to her surprise, headed for the refreshments table.
Lizzy felt her nails dig into her palms, leaving behind a fresh set of red semi-circle indents. She closed her eyes, taking in a steady breath. It was time for her to retreat. She couldn't bear to stand there any longer.
She was done for the day.
