This is a short story about a girl, who when her sister dies she find consolation in her sister's boyfriend. I'm not going to put it all up because it will take up too much room, but if you want to read more you can use the link at the end (if it works). Otherwise you can go to one of the sites on my profile section and find it on there.
I knew he was behind me, but I could not hear his muffled
sobs. All I could hear was my own yearning cries. The ones that tore through my
heart, and ripped away a part of me. As we stared at the stone erected over the
grave, I felt a hand enclose around mine, and looked to see a suffering as
great as my own.
“Matt?” I had opened the door, to find him standing
there.
“Hey Cass. My Mum baked a lasagne, I thought I’d bring
some over.” He smiled, though I could tell that he had to put it on.
“Thanks. Want to come in?” I pulled the door open wider,
stepping aside as he made in way in. “Want a drink?”
We sat at the table, talking easily. Easier than we’d
ever been able to talk when she was with us.
“It would’ve been three years on Tuesday.
“Lettie couldn’t stop talking about it. You were so young
when you were eighteen. We all were.” We paused, a sigh coming from him.
“She was beautiful, wasn’t she.”
“There was more beauty than I ever thought to look for.”
“Did you see it before…” He trailed off, not needing to
finish his sentence.
“Whenever I looked at her. Whenever I commented on her
ugliness people would say that I couldn’t say that because we looked the same,
but I never believed it, she was always more beautiful. Always will be.”
“It’s hard to think of her, down there-” tears choked in
his eyes.
As mine became foggy I reached out and took his hand,
finding comfort in the sense of another.
“Her beauty won’t die with her as long as we remember
it.” The words came from my mouth, and I knew he heard.
“I promise.”
He left when my parents came home. They were tired, as
they always were now, and thanked him for the food before he took his leave. I
waited until he disappeared up the street.
We ate silently that night, as we always did now. It was
good to have real food. Mum hadn’t cooked for a while. Mum didn’t do much
nowadays. Dad had started going to work again. He went per normal, came home as
normal. Dad seemed to be coping the best. I had stopped crying myself to sleep,
instead tossing restlessly. I woke several times, thinking of her. And yet, she
never entered my dreams. I would lumber about in the days, wishing the
university term could start again. But it wouldn’t for another two months.
People would come over occasionally and they creep around the house as if every
step would unleash a ghost. My friends would treat me cautiously,
double-checking before they spoke. All I wanted was my normal friends, I didn’t
care if they cracked a joke that broke me into remembrance. But they never
dared.
The next time I saw Matt was two weeks after. I was
sitting on the bus when he came and plonked himself beside me.
“What’s new?” He said.
“Hi Matt.”
“Going home?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t feel much like talking, not to him right
now. All I wanted was someone I could spill my thoughts to.
“It’s lasagne night on Thursday, do you want me to bring
some over?”
“Only if you make it.”
“Sure.”
“What! No wait, Matt, you don’t really have to cook the
lasagne.” I staggered, trying to take back my challenge.
“Nonna’s over, she’s too eager to refuse.”
I recalled the one time I had met his bubbly Italian
grandmother. “Belle belle belle.” She
had kept repeating as she gestured towards me and my alike.
“Then I’ll look forward to it.”
He brought the lasagne round and invited himself to
dinner that night. And though the pasta was soggy, the meat chunky and the
sauce runny, it was the best lasagne I had ever had.
It was a year since she died now. So long since I’d seen
him. I never thought I would again. Yet I sat on a park bench when he came and
sat beside me.
“Matt?”
“I’m not that unrecognisable am I? I still haven’t grown
that beard.”
It was definitely Matt.
“Lettie always said that she would never let you.”
“I made her promise that you know.”
“She crossed her fingers you know.”
We laughed, together, a sound I had not expected today.
“How are your parents?”
“They were to the cemetery today. They want us to take a
holiday.”
“You didn’t?” I sensed the question in his tone.
“Her body may lie there but her heart doesn’t.”
He was silent, contemplating I think.
“Where does her heart lie Cass?”
“With you. She loved you so much Matt, so so much.”
“I know, I know.”
Lettie's Love WritersCafe.org
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