Page 19 of Dead Love
But thinking about those what-ifs wasn’t useful. Instead, I judged the arrangements for their tight designs, none of them showcasing the flowers’ natural beauty. These people—Nyla’s friends and relatives—obviously knew that Nyla loved flowers, but they didn’t understand anything about her floral style. I went through the arrangements, propping up their petals, restructuring them into patterns that were more whimsical and outgoing. Like Nyla.
A hand landed on my shoulder. My mother. I knew she wouldn’t leave me alone for long.
“What are you wearing?” Shea muttered under her breath.
“Nyla gave it to me,” I said.
“You look like a—” She stopped, holding back her words, the derogatory term itching to get out. “People will talk, Kora. This isn’t a good look for the daughter of the sheriff. They’ll think—”
“I honestly don’t care what they’ll think.”
I stared at her; my mother’s stare seared back. She wouldn’t make a scene in public. It was one of the only places I had a small amount of power.
“We’ll talk about this at home,” she said under her breath. Then she fixed her frown into a tight smile. “Remember, this is a time to celebrate Nyla. No tears today, remember?”
“I’m not crying.”
“Good.” She pulled up my dress. “Only happiness.”
As Shea found another person to talk to, I looked down to a glowing window at the end of a hallway, in the middle of a door. I went forward, drawn to the light. I didn’t know where it led, but I knew it was better than here.
The door slammed shut behind me. I breathed in deeply. The air hummed with insects, a cool humidity clinging to my skin. Hexagonal stones lined the dirt, leading around the funeral home. I glanced back; through the door’s window, my mother had her back to me. For once, she wasn’t following me.
Maybe there were positives to a day like this: a chance to be by myself.
I followed the path around to a garden in the back, full of a mix of flowers: gardenias, roses, hydrangeas, azaleas, and lilies—everything white. They were arranged in a brick enclosure, blocking off the funeral home from the cemetery like a gate. If Nyla were here, she would have made a comment about the lack of color.
But I couldn’t think about her right now.
I closed my eyes, forced myself to erase her from my mind, to think of anything else, so I wouldn’t cry.Vincent.Where was he? He must have been somewhere on the grounds.
Just thinking of him woke my senses. It had felt like my entire body was coming apart from the inside. Like he was calling to a different side of me.
When I opened my eyes, the same lifeless colors were there, like beautiful ghosts. Footsteps knocked on the stone steps behind me. From my peripherals, I could see him: the tall frame, the deep white scar slithering up his neck. He stood to the side of me, his suit fitted to his body, drawing attention to his broad shoulders.
“Do you like it?” he asked. My chest tightened as I stared at him. Was he actually asking me that? A flush covered me from head to toe under his gaze, but I grit my teeth. Where did he get the nerve to manipulate me like he had last night and act like everything was normal now? And how was it he could have a garden in his funeral home, but I, the florist’s daughter, could only nurture potted plants in my own bedroom?
“It lacks color,” I said.
“They were left behind.”
I winced; maybe I should have said something nicer than that. Why didn’t he throw them out, like the families that neglected them?
I couldn’t stand it. These feelings inside of me. Anger. Sadness. Frustration. Envy.Guilt.I wanted to bury it all deep in the ground where I’d never find it again.
But it bubbled up.
His gaze didn’t waver, but I turned quickly, heading back inside of the funeral home. Being around him didn’t help anything; it just forced me to face it. Charging through the lobby, my mother smiled and lifted a hand toward me, but I ignored her, going straight into the viewing room. I marched toward the casket, displayed on the bier, alone in the front of the room.
I held my breath, lowering my chin to look down at the casket. Her yellow hair was bright, her cheeks smooth, with a hint of color. Her eyes and lips were shut, as if she was simply breathing through her nose. There was no visible damage from the car accident, but the pink blazer covered her neck and wrists; maybe it was hard to tell. It seemed like she could wake at any second and say that she had finally gotten the rental agreement. Buds & Buds could be our new reality.
But none of that would happen now. This was what happened when you contemplated the future. When you hoped for something else. Something better. I had to be in the moment. With my friend’s body.Here.
A dark figure appeared at the edge of the room. Vincent’s presence was heavy, as if he was scanning my body. He stepped forward, standing by my side once again. I bit my lip. Was he following me? The coffee shop, the flower field, my bedroom, and now, here?
No… He worked here. There was a reason for him to be here. A good one, at that.
But that didn’t explain all the other times, or why he kept talking to me.
