My Cliche Love Story | ✓

Chapter 26

The funeral was scheduled for the next week, and Mom was already making me stay home from school, so it wasn't like I'd be unexpectedly leaving. 

Dylan tried to stay by my side that whole week, but I specifically told him that if he didn't leave me alone, I'd purposely give his number out again like I did before. As expected, that shut him up real quick.

I haven't heard much from Molly and Jason, but that's okay. I kind of enjoy the silence from my usually bubbly best friend. It gives me time to think about everything that's gone down, like 1) Katie felt so down and depressed that she actually shot and killed herself, 2) we all thought she was crazy and just wanted revenge, and 3) I've kind of got a thing with Dylan. I don't know what it is, or what we are, but I guess that's something that can be discussed later. After the funeral.

My family does this thing where whenever a relative dies, we always wear colorful dresses to make the procession seem less depressing than it really is. But for Katie, I feel like the common black will only give her more respect. So I pick out a slim, classy black dress and pair it with a silver necklace, and some shiny black flats. I don't feel like I should get all done up just for this, because otherwise, I'm pretty sure Katie would be rolling over in her grave. 

I wonder if her parents will be there. 

I don't know much about Katie, but the one thing that I have no knowledge of is if her parents even know that she's dead. Are they even alive? Will they show up? A lot of things can happen in two hours. 

Dylan picks me up early so we can arrive at a time where it can just be us two. I'm sure he'll want to say goodbye without everyone else, and I'm honored that I get to be the one person that's there with him.

When I get in his car, I notice that he looks nicer than I've seen him. Ever. He's not wearing black, but I guess there has to be some color. He leans across the seat and slides his hand around the back of my neck, making butterflies flutter their wings in my stomach. His lips are against mine in an instant, and the seconds are slow like molasses. Then he breaks apart, winks at me solemnly, and starts the engine in preparation to go to the funeral home.

"How are you doing?" I ask when I can't stand the silence.

"Fine." He keeps his eyes on the road.

"I don't know what to think," I sigh, and reach for his hand, which he holds as if he's never held onto anything before. "I feel like we were the factor that drove her over the edge." 

"In ways, I think that too," he agrees grimly, "but I think she's been planning to pull the trigger ever since she broke out of the institution. You should have seen her when she first saw me. She told me things about our past that I'd long since forgotten, but for her, it was like they happened yesterday. She may have been a diagnosed IED, but she wasn't as crazy as we thought she was. Inside, she was still that sweet girl that I had a crush on in the fifth grade."

"You had a crush on her?" I look at him and try to see a fifth grade Dylan Carter with a crush on a younger Katie Adams, but it doesn't work.

He nods, and lets out a small chuckle. "Yeah, I thought she was my soulmate. I just wish I'd told her, and maybe she'd still be here."

I gave his hand a squeeze. If I were a paranoid girlfriend, I would have said something like, "Well, then you would never have gotten with me!" But as the smart, mature person that I am, I just listen and nod. I know that he's hurting, and me being jealous would only make this worse. 

Dylan takes a deep breath, nodding. "Well, I can't do anything about it now, can I?"

I don't say anything. I don't need to. He just keeps driving, and when we pull into the funeral home, I think he's come to terms with the fact that one of his childhood friends is actually dead. And I think he's feeling better about it. 

When we're alone, he walks up to the closed casket. Even though I can't see her, I'm sure she looks somewhat peaceful now. He leans down, kisses her now cold forehead, and whispers something I can't hear. When he stands back up, there are watery tears in his eyes, but he fights to keep them in. I want him to know that he can let it out while I'm here, so I embrace him, and he rests his chin on the top of my head. It's then that I can hear his cries, and I tighten my hold on him, as if I'm the only thing holding him up on his feet. 

Throughout the grim service, Dylan and I in the back row, I notice two people that are missing. 

"Where are her parents?" I whisper. 

"They died a few years ago in a plane crash. Katie found out when she first came to talk to me." His words are so soft, yet they carry a ridiculous amount of weight.

I nod, and lean my head on his shoulder, comforted by his touch. His hands envelope mine, and I feel safer than ever. 

Of course, that's the end of that sweet, innocent moment, because the next words out of Dylan's mouth fit his stereotypical reputation perfectly:

"You know, I had this pun about insanity, but then I lost it."

It's so unexpected, that I let out a snort. As people turn around to glare at me, I try to cover my laughs with crying. I don't think it worked, but they returned to their vigil. 

I smack his arm softly and playfully. "Shut up," I hiss.

He smirks. "Well, I'm feeling better, can you tell?"

Rolling my eyes, I squeeze his hand and peck his cheek. "Yeah, I can tell, bad boy. Now be quiet."

"Alright, Baker. Whatever you say."

It's like a small bubble that's been formed around us. In the midst of all the sadness, Dylan and I are the only ones that are -- no, not happy, but something else. We've gotten our sense of closure, I guess. 

I used to think that Katie was nice. Then I thought she was jealous, and then jealous with a dash of crazy. After that, everything changed. She was a lost, poor soul, who felt no love from anyone, and probably deserved it the most out of anyone. 

Alex Baker, meet Alex Baker, Pt. II. 

The new and improved me.

02/19/2016