The Writer’s Corner features poetry, essays, short stories, satire and various fiction and non-fiction from SCAD Atlanta students. To submit your own work for the Writer’s Corner, email features@scadconnector.com.
‘It’s Your Funeral’ by Amanda Glover
Part of me knows I don’t need to be here. But, the other part couldn’t stay away. Maybe being here would get rid of the throbbing pain inside me. Maybe it would erase some memory of that night. Maybe it would partly make up for what I did. No, you idiot. Nothing can make up for what you did.
“Thank you both for coming,” Mrs. Castillo said to Elisa and me as we entered the church. The song being played on the organ made me think we were marching to our deaths. A man standing next to her handed Elisa and me pamphlets with pictures of Anna in them. Gosh, she looked so happy in these photos; so beautiful and alive. I took that from her, and I’m so sorry. But, there is no one to apologize to without coming clean.
Elisa is my coworker at The Coffee Barn. Apparently, she and Anna had been really good friends. Elisa and I aren’t that close, but she really wanted someone here with her today. We sat in the second row. Anna’s casket was in clear view. It was burgundy with sunflowers on top.
Elisa said those were Anna’s favorite flower. She also said the casket was filled with mementos from friends and family. I’m glad she’s surrounded by pleasant things; not blood, dirt and roadkill. She once was. I didn’t mean to make that happen.
I haven’t been to a funeral since cancer took my father when I was thirteen. My mother isn’t dead, but she might as well be. She took off after my Dad died and got me dumped in foster care for five years. I’ve only been out of the foster care system for seven months. I live in a
rat-trap apartment paycheck to paycheck. I have no family. Everyone I
ended up liking in the system had moved on. An eviction notice was recently
slapped on my door.
The night of Anna’s accident, I’d gone out for a drive. My dad’s grave was just an hour away and I needed someone to talk to, even if they weren’t really there. The tears had blurred my vision, so I’d bent down to get tissues from my purse. When I’d risen, a young woman with a frightened look on her face was in front of my car. She was out for a jog and ended up under my car. It was dark out and as far as I could tell, there was no one else outside. No, I didn’t (couldn’t) call 911. I already have a DUI haunting me. This could get me thrown in jail. Maybe the police would believe it was an accident. An eighteen-year-old, broke former foster kid with a DUI? Don’t humor yourself, Beth.
I checked for a non-existent pulse. Her long, black hair was in a neat ponytail. Her green eyes were still open, but lifeless. She lay on her stomach. She was bruised and scarred. Blood escaped her nose and mouth. She looked to be around my age; too young to have it all end this way.
How could I do this? How could I have been so distracted by my own issues that I didn’t see what was literally in front of me? How could I grab her legs, and drag her into the nearby forest? How could I sit at her funeral and pretend I wasn’t why it was taking place?
“Anna was the kindest person I’d ever met…She could make me laugh at the saddest times…She was beautiful inside and out…I loved her so much…No parent should have to live with the fact that their child was murdered.”
I got up and scurried like my feet were on fire out of the sanctuary when I realized I was blubbering. A few of the guest had turned their attention to me.
“Beth?” Elisa
whispered as I’d gotten up; but I had already made my way outside, where I’d
collapsed on the lawn in a heap of uncontrollable tears.
I’d stayed sitting on my knees in the grass watching the cars pass until the service was over. I tried focusing on people I saw in their cars briefly as they drove by. I wondered what their lives were like. Were they happy? Were they overwhelmed with life? Were they married with children? Had they ever been heartbroken? Were they hiding secrets? Were they ever arrested?
Did they ever kill someone?
Once everyone had pretty much emptied the church, I saw Elisa talking to some of Anna’s cousins. She’d asked me why I’d run out, and I’d told her this funeral reminded me of my dad’s.
I walked up to Mrs. Castillo, who was stared vacantly as four men in black suits put Anna’s coffin in the hearse. “Mrs. Castillo?”
She turned around to reveal red eyes and a tear-stained face.
“Hi, I’m Beth. I came here with Elisa Prowler,” I cleared my throat. “I just wanted to say how sorry I am for your loss. I didn’t know Anna, but I heard she was a lovely girl. People obviously loved her.”
She smiled briefly. “Thank you, Beth. Anna was so much more than that though. She was perfect, the best daughter a mother could ask for.” Her expression hardened. “Somebody took that away. But mark my words; whoever did this, they will be caught and punished.” She walked over to an older couple who followed her inside a black limo.
I’m so sorry I killed you, Anna. You’re sorry? That’ll make my Mom and Elisa sleep better at night. I didn’t have a choice. There’s always a choice. Did Mrs. Castillo say “murder?” Is that what the police think? Obviously. They could believe she just fell, right? Yeah, that’s a possibility. She just fell. Into a car. Over and over again!
Elisa’s hand on my shoulder jolted me out of my trance. “Ready to go?” “Are we going to the burial site?”
She shook her head. “No way. I was barely keeping it together hearing Anna’s mom’s eulogy.”
As the two of us walked to the parking lot, I fantasized what it’d be like to get run over by a car; because that’s what I wished upon myself.
