| published! under the new title MEET ME IN THE MIDDLE | Eden knows she can't love Truman, the boy with the angelic smile and devilish eyes. Why? He's her best friend Katie's older brother, who she strictly promised she'd stay away from.
But when a...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
E D E N
No matter what happened this past year, I never thought I'd be spending a Sunday morning at my best friend's funeral.
My heels sunk into the soil as I crossed through the cemetery. The sun was barely pushing through the clouds, the grass still damp with morning dew. A chill filled the air, nipping at my bones. I reminded myself to breathe. I reminded my feet to move forward when they so desperately wanted to run back.
A small group of people had gathered for Katie's funeral. Her casket sat closed beneath a willow tree. A priest stood behind, a figure of black, a looming reminder of death. The rows of seats were sparsely filled. I remembered her mom mentioning the funeral would be small, intimate. Not crowded with rowdy kids from school and the boys whose hearts she had once broke.
Truman and his parents sat in the front row. A weighted silence filled the air, like a dark cloud looming after a storm, one that would never lift. I watched Truman from across the grass. I haden't seen him since the brief moment in the hospital. We haven't spoken since the night of the wedding, when we said good-bye in his car and went our separate ways.
He looked hollow, all bones and sharp edges. His eyes were hooded, clouded with dark circles. His black hair was rumpled, blowing lifelessly in the wind. He was a shell of the boy I used to know. I knew if he looked at me, he would think the same.
Since the night Katie died, time ceased to exist. Minutes, hours and days all bled into one another. There was no sunrise and no sunset. Just the ticking of the clock, waiting for each day to end so I could close my eyes and pretend none of this was real. The sadness was bone deep. It was impossible to describe. I'd carry it in my chest for the rest of my life. It would always be there, gently weighing me down until the day it faded to an ache.
Minutes ticked by and the seats began to fill with aunts and uncles I had never met. Old family friends, grandparents, a few faces I remembered from hazy summer mornings and chilly nights. I watched Truman stand, shake their hands, hug a few of them. He was a corpse brought to life, a flame completely fizzled out. I could see he was trying—trying to hold it together, but I didn't think there were enough bandages in the world to put this boy back together again.
Eventually, nearly all the seats were filled. I kept telling myself to go, sit down, pay your respects. Hug Katie's mom and then her dad. Touch Truman's shoulder, let him know you're here. But I physically could not move. The thought of stepping one inch closer to her casket made me want to claw out of my skin.
I settled for standing beneath a nearby tree. The funeral began. The priest said a few words, rekindling the pasts and the highlights of Katie's life. I wanted to shove him away. Get out, I'd say before taking over and telling my own memories. The real memories of the real girl who lay there, moments from being gone forever, buried in the Earth, lost like all the other souls.
