Post Mortem
I floated up out of my chair, drifting past all of the people in the room, gesturing as though in slow motion
December
I floated up out of my chair, drifting past all of the people in the room, gesturing as though in slow motion. Their lips were moving, but the words were muted. They seemed frozen, only moving when the ripples of my movement reverberated into their bodies, displacing them with little protest. My Aunt Margaret turned to me as I swam past. Anna was standing, suspended, with our father, near the far wall. She caught my eye and seemed to be beckoning me over, but I tore my eyes away, focusing on my destination ahead. Finally, I saw the doorway to the kitchen in front of me, the few feet left to reach it seeming an impossible stretch of space. I grabbed onto the doorway and pulled myself the rest of the way in. I felt a faint touch on my shoulder and pivoted around to see my mother standing there, her mouth was moving, but all I could hear were incomprehensible grumbles and bubbles.
Then all of a sudden, my head broke the surface and I crashed into the loud, bright world around me. Sounds came rushing into my ears and the sunlight seemed to assault my eyes. I breathed in sharply, catching the breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. I looked at my mother, standing in front of me, and felt my feet firmly on solid ground for the first time that day.
“What?” I asked her, realizing that she had been speaking to me.
“I said, you should eat something,” she answered, gesturing to the full plate in my hands. There was concern written across her face.
“I just don’t feel like eating right now,” I said not meeting her eyes, setting the plate down on the counter. “I’m going to go lay down for a bit.” She nodded as I walked upstairs, her gaze following me.
I plodded up the stairs, my eyes fixed on my feet, but I was hardly paying attention to where I was going. I just needed to make sure each foot hit its mark. My eyesight blurred with the attempt to concentrate on my feet, while my mind focused on a million other things. I turned left at the top of the stairs, auto-pilot guiding me down the hallway to my room. I entered it and looked around. The room was cleaner than it had ever been when I was in high school and hardly felt like mine anymore, The decorations and pictures on the walls seemed like they were from an entirely different era. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The room was far too cheery and brightly lit. I stood and went over to the windows to pull the blinds.
The door creaked open, and I turned around to see who it was. Matt poked his head around the door. I heard him enter, and shut the door fully behind him as softly as possible.
“Are you okay? You disappeared,” he asked tentatively, from his place by the door.
I turned around and really looked at him, taking in his suit jacket and tie, his nice slacks, all in somber black. He looked older than I remembered, and I suddenly realized how much he had changed in the two years we’d been dating.
“No,” I responded finally.
He nodded simply.
“I just want everyone to go away. I’m tired of pretending I care about their concern,” I said.
Matt was silent.
“I know that they mean well, but I just couldn’t give a fuck today.”
“It’s okay,” Matt said, coming closer, “I get it.”
I nodded, looking down at my inappropriate, floral dress. I couldn’t bring myself to wear black. I hated the way we were supposed to deal with death and funerals. You’re supposed to put on a show of coping and moving on, and if anyone were to really lose it and just scream and cry uncontrollably, no one would know what to do.
“All I want to do is cry, but I’m sick of crying.”
“Do whatever you need to do, Liza, I’m here for you. No matter what,” Matt responded, grabbing my hand, and giving it a squeeze.
I stared into space past him, the full reality of the situation washing over me for the millionth time. I looked directly at him. “She bought the gun months ago.” I paused, needing him to understand, “And yet, she just bought a new furniture set. It doesn’t make any sense.” I squeezed his hand back hard in frustration.
He said nothing, but pulled me to him, enveloping me in his embrace. I hugged him back and felt tears welling up in my eyes again, even though they were tired and raw from crying. I sobbed into his chest, shaking hard, pouring all of my endless grief into him with each teardrop. He stroked my hair and stood with me patiently.
“I-I just saw her, a few days ago,” I choked out between sobs.
Finally, the shaking subsided ever so slightly, and the tears fell from my eyes effortlessly. “How could she leave me with these people? It’s so…selfish.”
I looked up at Matt, and kissed him wetly on the lips, the tangy salt of my tears mixing in with our tongues. I grabbed at him desperately. My hands pushed at his suit jacket, starting to slip it off.
He pulled back a little. “Woah, Liza, we shouldn’t.”
“Why not, Matt?”
“I-I just mean, do you really want to fool around right now? In your parent’s house, with everyone downstairs?”
“I don’t care about them.”
“I know, but you’re a mess right now. It just doesn’t seem like a good idea.”
I grabbed onto his lapels for support, “Matt, right now all that I can think about is her.” The way her curly hair bounced when she walked, and how bright her smile was, and the endless summers we spent together on Cape Cod, and how gorgeous her singing voice was. These same stock memories were running over and over again through my head like a film reel that was on repeat. “I just need something to distract me.”
He was silent again. I grabbed his tie and pulled his lips down to mine, he slid out of the jacket and walked me back to the bed. We fell onto the bed, with him on top, and he slid his hand up my dress. His lips migrated along my jawline and down to my neck, he knew all of the right places on my body. I squirmed against him, pleasure coursing through my body, and temporarily obliterating all other thought. I spread my legs and fumblingly undid his belt buckle, unzipping his pants. My hands moved to his back, and clung to him, holding him close to me. A few tears were still escaping from the corners of my eyes, trailing odd patterns across my face and down my neck, the coolness of the tears creating a tantalizing contrast to the hot wetness of his mouth. He finished before me, and immediately he moved down, head between my legs. I interlaced my fingers into his hair, and cried out in pleasure, not caring if anyone heard me. I arched my back, and for that blissful few seconds, I forgot anything could ever be terrible. I lay frozen on the bed, eyes still closed, breathing heavily. Slowly, the world came rushing back onto me.
He pulled my dress down and we just lay there together on top of the covers for a little while, his body wrapped around mine. My crying had subsided, but we said nothing.
After a bit, I removed myself from his embrace and went to the bathroom to clean up. When I returned, he had put himself together as well and was straightening the covers on my bed.
I walked up to him and laid the crown of my head on his breastbone, “I love you,” I said, the words were muffled.
“I love you too.”
I looked into his eyes, “Don’t ever leave me?” I said.
“I won’t.” He pecked me on the lips.
I thought of everyone, everything, downstairs, and felt a heaviness on my lungs making it hard to breathe. I thought of how her smile alone could fill a room with light.
“Shall we head back down?” Matt asked placing a light hand on my shoulder.
I nodded, patting my hair self-consciously, and headed out of the door.
March
I held my beer with two hands, resting it between my knees. With my long thumbnail, I scratched at the foil wrapped around the neck of the bottle carving small triangles in the foil creating a pattern. As I sat on the porch, flashes of memory swam before my eyes. Walking through a park with her in Lake Geneva, when she stopped and listened to a busker with the same amount of attention she gave to bands she’d paid for. That one summer I’d gone to visit her in North Carolina, and I’d gotten a little tipsy for the first time on a cosmo, and decided that would be “my drink”. Making dinner together in my kitchen here just a few weeks ago.
I heard the porch door open and bang closed. I glanced up and saw Matt coming out onto the porch. I kept my eyes focused intently on my task rather than look him directly in the eyes.
“I was looking for you,” he said, sitting down next to me. He leaned in closer to me, slipping an arm around my waist and I leaned back into him, taking a sip of my beer.
I appreciated the coolness of the night air against my skin, as a respite from the hot smoky air of the party inside. Though part of me kind of wished that Matt had stayed inside too so I could be alone with my thoughts.
He grabbed my beer out of my hand and took a sip and then handed it back to me. I turned and looked at him. “Why do you always do that?”
“What?” He asked, confused.
“Just take a sip of my drink without asking. There are a million beers inside, why don’t you just get your own?” I snapped, scooting away from him.
“I’m sorry…I didn’t know it bothered you so much.” He looked at me like I was acting crazy.
I fell silent, staring at my beer to see how much was left. It was warm and I didn’t really want it anymore anyway, but I just never understood people who thought everything belonged to them. Matt moved closer to me again, and I felt his lips on my neck, his teeth lightly biting down. I scooted away.
“Matt…please, no.”
He exhaled, frustrated, “What’s going on, Liza?”
“I just don’t feel like it.”
A tense silence fell. “Whenever I touch you nowadays you act like you’re disgusted by me.”
“No, I don’t. I just don’t feel like fooling around right now.”
“You are constantly snapping at me, and pushing me away, I just — “
“I’m in a pissy mood, Matt, I don’t feel like making out right now ok?”
“I just mean that we’ve barely had sex since the funeral.”
“Well, Jesus, Matt, I’m really sorry that I’ve been too preoccupied to have sex with you.”
“God, Liza, you know that’s not what I mean. It’s just, if something more is wrong, you should tell me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, I’ve just been wondering if maybe you felt weird about sex since the funeral, you know, weird circumstances.”
“It has nothing to do with that, Matt.”
“OK, well then, what is it?” He asked scooting closer again.
“I don’t know!” I exploded standing up and walking off of the porch.
“Liza, I’m not trying to accuse you of anything. This isn’t even about the sex. I’m worried about you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now, Matt,” I said, crossing my arms across my chest.
“You used to tell me everything. I don’t know what to do anymore,” he said, defeated.
“I’m not asking you to do anything!” I snapped.
“Okay, fine. I won’t do anything then,” he breathed out, frustrated, “I’m just trying to be there for you.”
“You can’t help me through this, Matt! No one can.” I was shouting now, rage boiling up from somewhere inside of me.
He took a deep breath and walked over to me, “Liza, I’m just trying to help remind you that there are still good things in this life. That life still goes on.”
My rage dissolved as suddenly as it came, and I felt it give way to the pit of sadness that was now my perpetual state of being, “But that’s the worst part, Matt, shouldn’t things be more different? I know I am. But everything else is exactly the same.”
Matt came over to me and hugged me, for the millionth time. Comforting me yet again.
“I feel like you just want things to go back to how they used to be, but I don’t think that’s possible,” I said quietly leaning my head on his shoulder.
“Why not?” he asked.
I broke away from him and looked him in the eyes. He stared back, silently.
“You know what? I think I’m just going to go home,” I said, depositing my beer on the porch.
“I’ll walk you,” he offered.
“No, actually, Matt, you stay. I kind of just want to be alone right now. I just need some time to think.” I walked away from him, wiping my tears off my face furiously as I made my way back to campus.
July
Laying on my bed, computer open, I clicked on the jobs section of craigslist. Bypassing all of the sketchy, STUDENT? NEED MONEY NOW? FAST CASH!!! ads in search of more legitimate sounding professions. I came across one promising upward mobility and travel options but brushed that off as another scam. There was one as a sort of camp counselor, leading high school students around Florence, Italy. The idea of traipsing through Europe with a bunch of obnoxious sixteen-year-olds all trying to sneak off and get drunk sounded dreadful, but it would be a cheap way to travel. I opened another window and started clicking through pictures of Florence on Google images. From Florence, I moved on to Rome and Paris, Prague, London, Budapest. Aimlessly typing in names of places I desperately wanted to go, gazing longingly at beautiful skylines.
So far, post-college life had been less than amazing. I think people were still kind of giving me a break, but I was getting restless. I wanted to move on with my life, but with all this extra time on my hands, I was finding it harder than ever.
My phone vibrated on the bed next to me. I picked it up and saw Matt’s name flashing at me. I sighed and opened the message. It was a casual “what’s up?” message. I stared at it not knowing how to respond and felt instantly guilty at the feeling of dread in my stomach.
I stared at the screen of my phone, almost angrily, reading his banal text over and over again. I finally typed out my response, and closed my computer, rolling off the bed, and putting on my shoes. I opened my closet door and looked myself over in the mirror, making sure I looked mildly presentable to the outside world. A small lilac purse hanging in the closet caught my eye and I lightly fingered the soft, waifish material. I lifted it to my nose taking in the floral, peaceful scent of hers that still lingered.
I felt like I was constantly grasping at memories of her, trying to remember, to hold on because this house was practically devoid of her presence. We didn’t grow up together, so my memories of her were displaced and scattered all over. Her fingerprints weren’t all over the surfaces of my life. It made losing her both easier and more difficult. I felt like it was my duty to actively remember her, or no one would. This had been my problem for the past six months; I wasn’t trying to move on, but trying to hold on.
I walked alongside Matt. He grabbed my hand, interlacing our fingers together. My hands felt clammy, and I felt as though his fingers were holding onto mine desperately, clinging to me like a vice. I looked over at him and he smiled at me. I smiled back weakly. I’d grown tired of fighting with him about everything, so I’d finally stopped bothering. I just kind of went along with everything silently.
He stopped and turned to me, drawing me into a kiss. I kissed him back, embracing him lightly. His lips felt like a distant memory coming back to me. We broke apart and kept walking. We turned into a coffee shop, ordered our drinks, and sat down at a table.
“Everything all right?” Matt asked lightly.
I nodded, “Yeah.” He looked at me, intently, “I just…I’m frustrated with the whole job search process.”
“No luck still, huh?” Matt had gotten an internship right on the heels of graduation that actually had the potential for a real job. I was happy for him, but it certainly exacerbated my feelings of restlessness.
I think he just kind of started to ignore the veiled sadness. Or maybe I was hiding it better, coping better on the outside than I actually was. Things were really looking up towards the end of senior year, but between moving home, and having no luck with finding a job, my end-of-year high was wearing off.
“You’ll find something soon, don’t worry. It will work out. These things just take time,” He grasped my hand across the table.
I sipped my coffee. “I know, I just feel like I’m constantly waiting for things to work out.”
“It’s been a rough year. Graduating college is hard under normal circumstances.”
I nodded, sick of bandying this around again. I was honestly done with all the excuses, my own excuses. I was actively trying to feel better now, trying to move on.
I thought of her again, singing to me, her soft, rich voice, flowing over my skin in the eerie silence afforded by a car. He played his guitar in the night, he played his guitar out of tune…he was no friend of mine, just another passerby… I had wondered if she were singing about someone she’d actually loved or if it was pure fiction.
I pushed the memory away though, refusing to allow myself to wallow any more. I would never forget her, but I couldn’t start crying about it every few minutes.
He smiled at me warmly, “I’ll always be here for you.”
I just smiled back and took another sip of my coffee, my mind already drifting to somewhere else.
© Katherine Packer 2019
