And Then She Stopped

chapter twenty-nine

u·to·pi·a

yo͞oˈtōpēə/

noun

an imagined place or state of things in which everything is perfect.

There is only one antonym for the word 'utopia'. That word is hell.

Riley Matthews was in hell.

It'd been a week since she found out about Maya's death, and she still felt like she couldn't breathe. It felt selfish. Being alive felt selfish.

Her window stayed open – constantly taunting her. Every now and then, when the wind rustled the leaves in just the right way, she'd turn her head excitedly expecting to see Maya crawling into her room, only to be reminded that Maya would never, ever be sitting in the bay window ever again.

Riley now sat on her bed, staring at the black dress hanging on her doorknob. It didn't feel right – Maya wouldn't want her wearing black to her funeral. But black was all she could tolerate right now, every other color just seemed too bright and they insulted her. How dare the colors not dull themselves after such a heavy loss?

"Riley honey," Topanga gently knocked on the door as she jiggled the locked handle, "How are we doing?"

Wretched. Pathetic. Destroyed. Dolorous. Pained. Riley considers saying any of these things – but this is not what her mother wants to know. Topanga wants to know if she's almost finished getting ready to go to her best friend's funeral.

"I'm almost ready." She croaked out – her voice coarse after the many nights she's stayed up sobbing tearlessly into her pillow, unable to remember the last words she said to Maya.

Riley stood from her bed, gravity pulling down on her now more than ever, as though it were wrapping its hands around her ankles and trying to drag her down to hell – unaware that she was already there. Slowly she trod over to the dress. The dress flowed down to her knees and hugged in at her waist – it would be stunning if she were wearing it to anything but a funeral. She slid into the dress and slipped out the door, feeling as though she didn't have the energy to do anything more.

Topanga immediately stood up when Riley trudged out into the living area, her entire family was clad in black. She pat down on her daughters hair, cupping her hands around Riley's face.

"Sweetheart do you want me to fix up your hair?"

Riley simply pushed her mother away- Maya wouldn't have cared if her hair wasn't done. Maya didn't care what Riley looked like, she thought Riley was beautiful no matter what. Riley wondered if Maya would still think that now. She hadn't showered in days, because no matter how hard she scrubbed she couldn't manage to wash away the pain.

The Matthews' gang silently filed into their SUV, they were all afraid to say a word – as far as they were concerned, Riley was a flight risk. She gently tapped her head against the cold window, watching as her breath fogged up the glass. It was the beginning of spring, it was once her favorite time of year. In the earliest parts of the morning a thin layer of frost settled on top of all of the leaves, and by the time she woke up they'd melted into a beautiful dew that reflected light and made everything look brighter – except now she didn't look outside. Because if she did all she saw was water on leaves, and there is nothing magical about water on leaves.

The vehicle jolted to a stop as Topanga put the van in park, Topanga looked behind her seat, concern settling on her face. Riley was pressing her hands into her knees so hard her hand had turned white, her face was scrunched.

"I don't know if I can do this alone." She whispered, her vision clouding with tears, Auggie leaned over and put his little nine year old hand on top of his sisters, ,"You're not alone." He smiled, putting his head on her shoulder, Riley stiffened at the contact. She looked out to the church, knowing Shawn planned the funeral. He'd tried to get Maya to believe in something – anything – even if it was just believing in the sun every morning, little did he know that one of the only things Maya believed in was him.