Epilogue
In this little piece of typical tragedy
It is Monday afternoon around 1 pm and I'm sitting at Sil's coffee table. The apartment is quiet, I'm sitting with a cup of steaming coffee much like I did only a few days ago, but this time there is no sunlight illuminating the room. Outside, sludgy rain is falling that can't seem to decide whether it wants to be rain, hail or snow. Grey light falls through the kitchen window and I'm sitting with the newspaper and a slice of toast. I'm alone, and relishing in my quiet time.
Sil's at work but I've taken a week off. They let me go graciously enough; probably figured that I have lots of stuff to do with my house being burnt down and all. It's true, I've done a lot of calling with the insurance company. They've offered me to renovate the place but I've declined – I am going to find me another place. The apartment has served its purpose and I just don't want to be there anymore.
Thus I've moved back in with my cousin again until I can find something else. Sil is a friend as true as she can be; she has always been there for me and I love her to bits. We might spark sometimes because in some ways, we're too alike, but she's as solid as a rock. She is dependable, lovely, and most of all, she's my friend. I don't think I can thank her enough for all she's meant for me during the past few years with first my mother and brothers, then with Marlene, and now with this.
True friendship does exist, and it lasts through bad times.
Musing on friendship and munching on my toast with honey, I open the newspaper and leaf through it idly. I'm scanning the headlines and waking up slowly after a bad night filled with nightmares. I dreamed of Marit's tear-streaked face and a car in the mist, and I woke up crying in the dead of the night. It took some time to fall asleep after that, but over the years I've learned how to deal with nightmares. My head is still fuzzy from the large dose of sleeping pills that I took. I'm not quite awake yet and I probably won't be for most of the day.
But for now, it doesn't matter. There is just me, the coffee, the paper, and the gray light of the afternoon. That's enough for now. The fuzzy edges of my mind do not bother me right now. I'm quiet and content just to be, for now.
In a few days, I'll think about my next bold move. In a few days I'll plan my life and go and do something about a new life, one where I move on past my old pains and regrets – but now I am taking my time to slow down and to grieve for a girl that should have lived, for a boy who is on trial for arson this Thursday. For people who were hurt when they shouldn't have been. For the innocent ones… and for myself. And so I do.
I turn over the page and my eye automatically falls on the obituaries. Perhaps it's a reflex after Marit died, but I can't help it. I have to check them every day – what if I miss something? Last time, I was a day late with finding out. I had not even known that she had crashed. I don't want to miss out. I need to know.
And I don't miss it. I see it right there, outlined in black, much like Marit's was.
"In loving memory. Robin Aldaine."
The phone begins to ring, but I don't pick up. I am too busy wiping tears from my eyes.
Whether they're laughter, grief, guilt or relief, I do not know.
All I know is that it is over now. For better or for worse, it is completely over. We've all paid our prices now… and I think I can move on.
I really think I can…