The Space In Between(2)

But I had tasted it—the salty sweet mix of my blood dripping into my mouth as I sat in the car. It’d taken a moment for me to realize I was upside down. I tasted the coppery sensation that infested my tongue with its disgusting flavors. My eyes were filled with tears mixing with the deep red liquids as I screamed out in angst. My left leg was abusively tucked in between the door and driver’s seat.
None of that mattered the moment my eyes shifted to Derrick’s seat. His hazelnut eyes shot open and pierced my soul by saying the last word he would ever say to me— or anyone for that matter.
“Andie…”
In three days, I would be pushed down the aisle in a wheel chair, in my black dress, inside the beautiful St. Peter’s Church. I would be suffocating from a misery that can’t be expressed in words, but only in a feeling. It would be a cold feeling of knowing that, once I reached the end of the aisle, Derrick would be there.
In three days I would be saying goodbye to the only love I have ever known. Three days, five hours, and twenty-two minutes.
But who’s counting?





SITTING IN A metal chair that my dad pushed me around in was annoying. My family and I waited outside the church as all of the townspeople gathered around to say they were sorry. I heard some of the gossiping old ladies whisper there might have been alcohol involved. I didn’t even have the strength to roll my eyes. Michelle’s best friend, Rachel McLean, approached me. Her eyes were heavy with tears as she shook her head back and forth. We were never really close, but she looked as if she were as broken as I was.
“Andrea…” she whispered. I waited for her to get her thought out, but she kept crying, saying she was so sorry, over and over again. My brother came over and walked Rachel away. I was thankful for that. I couldn’t watch anyone else fall apart.
Everyone disappeared, traveling in a single-file car line in the direction of the graveyard. I couldn’t stop tugging on my black lace dress. My leg itched so much in that damn cast, but I didn’t complain. Mom didn’t complain either when she dressed me. It was a new chore for her, but she never let it appear that way. I was thankful for that, too.
I stared at the church. My wedding church. Mom looked at me with the gentlest eyes and bent down so she was closer, seeing how I was so low. “Andrea, we should get going. It’s been a long day. And if you don’t want to stop by the graveyard, we should still stop by Derrick’s parent’s house…”
I could feel Daddy’s hand on my shoulder. I wasn’t sure how long it had been there, but I wasn’t in a hurry to have it removed. Eric was there too with Michelle, who looked awful. She never really felt comfortable in uneasy situations. Who could blame her? The smile always plastered upon her was erased that day. As I looked around, I realized everyone’s smiles were gone.
Eric didn’t know what to say to me. What could he say? There were no words that could make any of this better. Stupid tears kept falling. There were so many times I didn’t even know I was crying. Eric bent down and wiped my eyes.
“It’s all right, Andie.”
“Don’t call me that,” I whispered as I smiled brightly towards them all, “Listen. Really. You can all stop looking at me as if I’m broken. I’m not. People die.” I couldn’t stop giggling.
“Grammy Tammy died and you guys didn’t throw a fit. So why should we be freaked out now that my twenty-two year old fiancé is being buried into a deep hole in the ground as we speak? You know what’s shitty?” I watched as my mother’s eyes widened. I never cursed in front of my parents, and I could tell it was a surprise to her ears. Especially in front of the church. “Sorry, Mom…you know what’s crappy? Derrick didn’t even like cemeteries. He hated them. He wanted to donate his organs and be cremated.”
The way everyone remained silent as they watched the first of my many breakdowns was pretty amusing. I continued. “And I mean, how did you all not know that? He wrote a song about it. ‘Windy Sunday’. I’m sure you didn’t listen to it though. But he talked about how cemeteries were a waste of perfectly good space and how he wanted to float away into the winds. Why didn’t anyone say, ‘Hey, Andrea, do you know how Derrick wanted to be handled after you killed him?’ Why didn’t anyone ask me, Daddy?”
I looked at my dad, whose eyes were filling with emotion. “Why didn’t anyone ask? Because I wasn’t his wife? Because I had no say in how to bury my dead fiancé’s body?”
I couldn’t speak anymore. I sobbed into my brother’s arms. I was surrounded by love, but I’d never felt so alone.
 

I SAT IN my old bedroom and listened to Mom and Daddy send away the guests who’d showed up to look at me with their pity eyes. I hadn’t cried since the funeral, and that was a few weeks ago. Mom thought I should see a therapist or something. She said I wasn’t dealing with my feelings in the right way. Who knew there was a wrong way to feel?
The engagement ring on my left hand remained in place, glimmering from the light shining through the window. I shut the curtains. The ring didn’t deserve to shimmer in such a perfect way anymore; the meaning behind it was now void. While I was in my college dorm, I practiced my wedding vows in the mirror, wanting to perfect them. What a waste of time. I moved the ring up and down my finger as I stared at the white, zipped-up bag hanging on the top of my closet door. My wedding dress was inside it. I couldn’t confront it yet. I was almost certain I could never deal with that.