Guns, Not Roses

~Chapter Eighteen: The Black Parade~

Ginny Cooper felt like the world had given way under her black-and-silver ballet flats.

Standing beside Anita Bonham, she felt ten sizes smaller than she actually was, and it wasn't just because Anita Bonham was easily ten sizes bigger than her.

No, it was the overwhelming, consuming guilt that was eating away at her insides like a disease. Anita Bonham had made it very clear what she thought about Ginny. In fact, when she'd first heard the news of her only child's death, Anita Bonham had likened her only child's long-time girlfriend to a no-good slag - a whore that hadn't given her any grandchildren to love and cuddle with.

Ginny knew how much grandkids had meant to her almost-mother-in-law. It didn't even matter if the herd of them were bastards, born out of wedlock into a world that couldn't give two fucks about things like that. She knew how much Luke had wanted a little sprite to call his own - a boy, he'd told her: A boy that was the carbon copy of him.

It was earlier in the year that he'd come up to her, when she had been curled up in bed with another corny Danielle Steel novel in hand and hot cocoa at her bedside, with a crazy proposition.

"I'd like us to try for a baby, Ginny," he'd said, his eyes turning big and wistful at the thought of teaching a mini-Luke the correct way of throwing a baseball, as well as the way to tell if a woman's boobs were real, or bubbles of silicon.

Ginny had spat her hot chocolate out, staining the pages of her book with the brown liquid. "You want to try for a what?" she'd said in a high-pitched voice.

"A baby, Gin. A little us."

Ginny had felt her heart jump into her throat at the dreaded thought. A baby would just about ruin her life! And she couldn't continue to work for Anthony if she had a godforsaken child in tow! In fact, she could picture Anthony's reaction: He'd congratulate her, tell her that he's giving her "leave", and then replace her with someone else. Probably a saucy French maid who wore short and flirty skirts, and no underwear, and insisted she wanted to call her Tony "monsieur".

No. A baby would ruin everything.

But she couldn't very well refuse Luke's desire, could she? Despite their ups and downs, Ginny knew how lucky she was to have a real gem like Luke. Many girls would cut their right nipple to be with someone as gorgeous as him. Luke really was gorgeous.

"Sure, love," she'd forced herself to say cheerfully. "That would be perfect. We'd have a real family then."

And Luke had been thrilled, insisting on starting their babymaking right then and there, her novel falling to the floor with a thump.

Now, standing  beside her almost-mother-in-law, she regretted the secret stash of birth control pills. She regretted the lies. She regretted disappointing Luke in that way. She regretted it all. It was as though Anita Bonham knew. It was as though Anita Bonham knew without a shadow of a doubt, as though she could see the little pills hidden underneath a pile of old T-shirts she didn't wear anymore and couldn't bother to trash.

"He would've wanted his favourite band to play."

Ginny's head snapped to her side as she regarded her almost-mother-in-law. "Pardon?"

"What was his favourite band, Ginny?" Anita's tone was accusing. A glimmer of tears was apparent in her baby-blue eyes, so much like her son's that Ginny felt as though she were looking into his.

Ginny grabbed at her black lace shawl at the first billow of wind. "It was My Chemical Romance," she murmured, staring at the russet-brown coffin as it was lowered into the russet-brown earth.

Anita squeezed her eyes shut. "His favourite song?"

"When I was... a young boy," Ginny sang in a soft voice, hating the woman for doing this to her; for making her feel guilty, "my father... took me into the city... To see a marching -"

"Just stop," Anita hissed, her eyes snapping open. "You are a little bitch. You are a selfish bitch! My Luke... he just wanted to love you! And you continued to fail at giving him something he'd wanted so much. And I told him that you didn't love him, that you didn't want his kids... But he wanted to make it work. And now he's dead!"

A few mourners curiously glanced at them. Anita's voice was rising.

"I don't ever want to see you, you lying, skinny bitch!"

Ginny gaped at the older woman, her face reddening. How could she say those hurtful things?

"Go! Right this minute!" Anita spat, giving Ginny a heavy shove.

Ginny stumbled back, tears beginning to cloud her vision. People were full-on staring, she knew. This was a show for them.

"I'm sorry," she choked out. "I'm ever so sorry." And she turned on her heel and fled, her hair loosening from its tight bun.

Oh God, Luke. I'm so sorry. I did love you; I really did!

She picked her way through tombstones, bumping into the ones she didn't see, until she reached the exit of the cemetary. Her small Fiat was parked there, amidst the Mercedes and Benzes and Beemers of the other mourners. She fumbled in her purse for the car key when she felt a presence right behind her.

Shivering, she slowly turned around, coming face to face with a big, burly man.

"Ginny Cooper, is it?" he said gruffly, his voice slightly accented.

Ginny could only nod.

"Come with me, beautiful. I just need to ask you a few questions." The man's meaty hand was on her arm before she could blink. "Please come quietly."

Her head moved of its own accord as she followed the man to a black SUV parked inconspicuously.

"What... what's this about?" she managed to say, although her voice was shaking terribly.

The man looked down at her, a smile suddenly pasted on his lined face. "It's about a friend of yours. We just want to find out where he is, Ginny."

"What friend?"

He shoved her into the back seat. "Dekker. Anthony Dekker." He slammed the door shut, simultaneously sealing Ginny Cooper's fate.