Attendance is Mandatory

It is a feeling you cannot quite understand. It is so contradictory. You feel as though you could drop from exhaustion at any moment, but you also have never felt better. You are terrified to no end, but you’re filled with a sense of bravery and pride. You feel lost, but you know exactly where you are. You feel like there is something you need to find, but you know where it is.

The location has slipped your mind at the moment, just as most of your other memories have as well. In that moment, all that exists is what is.

It is raining. You are standing on a city sidewalk. There are cars speeding past you on the street. You are wearing a black dress, as made evident by your reflection in the store window.

You think back, trying to remember putting the dress on, but you come up short. You remember the dress and all its details, but not why you are wearing it. It is a black dress, one you had yet to grow out of. It was a simple dress until you reconstructed it during your Home Economics class that senior year of high school. It had to be special for your prom, even if you were only going with a friend.

The memories of making the dress gather quickly in your head. You remember tearing out the lining, replacing it with a deep sapphire blue, arching the front up into a matching sash to reveal that beautiful splash of color. You can recall the throbbing in your fingers as a result of pricking them every two seconds trying to sew lace on the top of the dress. You remember the tears you shed from anger as you attempted to add a layer of black tulle over the skirt of the dress. You also remember how pleased you were with the outcome, how stunned everyone was over your outfit that night, and how much it was truly worth it to recreate the dress.

One thing has changed about the outfit, aside from the shawl draped across your shoulders and back. You’re also wearing a veil. It isn’t very big. It is only large enough to cover the eyes. It’s something you would wear to a funeral to mourn the loss of a loved one. Just as with the dress, you don’t remember pinning the veil in your hair.

So now you are standing on a sidewalk, in the rain, without an umbrella, wearing a formal dress, and completely confused. People pass by you as if you don’t exist. No one shoves you out of the way either. They just don’t come near enough to you. It is as though you repel the strangers in your dark dress and lack of memory.

Then, occurring like a flash, something crosses your mind. You remember you have to find something. You try and recall what that something is but your mind is blank. You just know you have to find it, and you have to find it soon. Time is running out.

You begin to mindlessly wander the city sidewalks, meandering into the streets, not caring whether or not you get hit by a passing car. You feel the sand passing through the hour glass as you search for something unknown. Something you are sure you will not find in this stranger-town.

You take in the detail of the city. You see some signs that it wasn’t always so modern. You find yourself imagining the city years and years ago. You see cobblestone roads, brick buildings, and venders out on the sidewalk selling roasted chestnuts in the cold weather. Most of that is gone now, aside from the stray brick building here and there. You remember how you always thought it would be nice to live back then, back when times were simpler and things were less--

A car horn sounds, snapping you back to reality. The sound passes through you and it is quite jarring for you. You fall backwards onto the sidewalk. The cold, wet cement smacks against your skull. It doesn’t hurt as much as you expect. The icy rain on your bare arms hurts more.

You just lay there on the ground and let the rain wash over you. You want to clear your mind and forget everything. You want to relax and just be. For a moment you do just that. You begin to drift away, until a little nagging voice in the back of your head grabs your attention. It continues to get louder and louder until you finally pull your eyelids open and sit up.

Car after car slowly drive down the street in front of you. They are driving slower than they normally would on a road like this. Out of curiosity you stand up and follow. You gaze into each car to see who is inside. You notice something you would usually overlook. Everyone in every car is dressed in black. This line of cars is headed to a funeral.

You chase after this funeral procession. The small realization you made is larger than you imagined. You are going to find what you are looking for at the funeral. That must be why you’re dressed like that. It even explains the veil you wear. It makes perfect sense to you.

The rain continues to fall and shatters against your skin. You race after the cars as they near a church. As you come closer, memories flash through your mind, flooding your head more than the rain on the street.

*********

Maybe if it had been raining then too, maybe the chances would not have been as high. Maybe the chances of life would have been higher. Maybe if it had been ice-cold rain falling instead of snow, then maybe the ground wouldn't have been so slippery. Maybe if the pristine white landscape hadn’t sprung the idea of a winter walk. Maybe if someone had left a few minutes earlier, or even a few minutes later. Maybe if there had not been so many “maybes” that day.

*********

Your mind races as you approach the large stone church. Cars pull into the parking lot, and some park in front of the building. Others race inside before they get wet, whether they have an umbrella or not. You, however, walk into the building slowly, soaking in the rain and taking in the moment trying to comprehend it. Everything is so surreal. You feel like you are walking into an old black and white photograph.

*********

The sparkling snow served more as a distraction than as anything else. The city was beautiful. Every aspect of it was stunning in the glistening white snow. Just one glance at that beauty and no one could escape it, caught by the miraculous sight. It was almost paralyzing... Or maybe it was just paralyzing fear.

*********

You step inside the church and all is silent. No one says a word to anyone. A few sobs are audible in different corners of the massive sized room. There is the sound of shuffling feet. A person coughs off to the side. Aside from that, the only constant sound comes from the pitter-patter of rain on the roof of the church.

Murky light shines through the stained glass windows. There are candles lit at the end of each pew. Most of the light comes from a few electronic lights installed in the more modern years of the church. The building is dim and gloomy anyway. The size of it proves it will never be anything but dimly lit. It’s a dim occasion as it is. Even you feel the grief passing through you. You feel the urge to join the others in crying, but there are no tears in your eyes. Perhaps it’s because you shouldn’t be there as a mourner.

Some people are taking their seats right away. Others take a trip to the front of the church and visit the casket before the service. You tremble in your spot in the doorway wondering whether you should follow them. You take a small step forward, followed by another, and then a rush to the nearest open seat. It’s too soon for you. You’re not ready to say goodbye.

*********

There was only a split second to react, even though it lasted for twenty.

*********

“It was probably her fault.”

“Look what she caused.”

“Careless.”

“She deserved it.”

Words are spoken behind her by others. There are people there you would never talk to if you could help it. You wonder why they would be there if they didn’t like who died. Maybe they came out of respect. Although they don’t seem to be showing her much respect with their unkind words. Turning your back to them you tune them out.

“I can’t believe this happened.”

“She was so young.”

“It’s a tragedy.”

You feel a little better at the words of strangers.

“How do you think he’ll take it?”

You try and think who “he” might be. You search the depths of your mind, not realizing that you might not know him at all. You try to pull back answers but instead you get more flooding memories; things you didn’t want to remember.

*********

The screeching of tires against icy pavement was deafening, even more deafening than the crash that followed. The crash meant nothing to anyone. The crash was just an extra event in that momentous split second, a single breath, and a final breath.

*********


“The driver is still alive. Still in the hospital I think.” You hear this and it takes a strength you didn’t know you had to keep you rooted in your spot. “I hope they know what they've done.” Your fury dies down and you are suddenly refilled with grief.

“Ahem,” a speaker at the front of the church clears his throat. Every murmur falls silent and the only sound comes from the steady rain now pounding against the roof. “Thank you for joining us on this, somber day,” he says. You want to erupt in some sort of emotion, but none come out. Your eyes are dry, your body is steady, you have a strong composure, and while all this is happening, you want to scream in fear and distress. You know what you came here to find.

At long last you muster up the courage to move. You break out into a sprint. You hurry towards the mahogany casket at the front of the church, your shawl flying behind you like a cape. When you are within five feet of it, you collapse into a heap on the cold and wet tile floor. In front of you is a box surrounded by roses, the scent is strong. It’s beautiful in its own way. You found what you were looking for.

You have to do this. It is a clawing in your stomach that tells you this. You know that if you don’t, this nightmare will not end. You will be trapped forever, and you have to put an end to it. You have to face this fear and accept it, as much as you don’t want to, you know it’s right.

You crawl across the floor the remaining five feet and grab onto the stand the casket is set on. Slowly, with every ounce of strength you have, you pull yourself up to your feet. Your eyes shut automatically when you reach the point you could gaze into the casket. You take another meaningless, deep breath and tear your eyes open.

“How can she still look so beautiful?”

“She was hit in the ribs and lungs, or whatever. I don’t know. Her face is fine.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You hear a few voices speaking to the side. You recognize them as the memories continue to flood in and as harsh realities set in. They are your friends. You never had many. Most of your friends were guys anyway. Ironically, you have only ever had one boyfriend. You were so close to getting another. Maybe. Maybe if that day had gone a little bit better. Or maybe if he knew you were more than just his best friend… who was also a girl.

“She’s... She’s d-de--,” he stutters and cannot finish the word, “but she’s still so beautiful. She’s as beautiful as the day I met her. As she was at the prom, the last time she wore this dress… two years ago…” His voice is soft and breaking.

“Come on, dude. Pull it together. We have to carry this thing out.”

“This thing?” You can’t stop staring at the body in the box, dressed in the same apparel you’re wearing now. “How can you even say that? You know who’s in there!” He scolds. “She was your friend. And now you treat her like she doesn't matter.”

A sigh emerges from the other friend. “I-I’m sorry. I know how you felt about her.”

“I love her.”

“You loved her.”

“No. I love her.”

“Listen to me. She’s d--.”

“I know! I don’t care. I still love her.” Then in a whisper that you’re sure only you can hear, “and I waited too long to tell her.”

Listening to his sobs, you cannot help but feel a tug in your chest where your heart used to beat. You crave for that feeling of emotion, and it comes, even if you cannot show it. You feel every emotion possible. You feel happy and ecstatic. He loves you, just as you do him. He cares for you in a way you didn't think possible. You know it now. You also feel anger. That cruel and twisted thing called fate didn't allow you to find out what could have been until too late. You know it now. Most of all, you feel bitter and depressed knowing that you can never be together, and never be a part of his life. You know it now. You know that there is nothing that can be done because you know it.

You know it as your friends, your pallbearers, carry your casket down the aisle, out the door, and into the rain. You know it as they slide the large container into a hearse. You know it as the funeral-goers exit the church and follow your body to its burial site. You know you don’t have to follow this time though. This time you know the truth, you really know it, hard as it is to accept.

You're dead.