Until Death Do Us Part? (Completed)

Chapter Nineteen: Heather McCarthy

I continued to stare at the two figures, feeling at a loss of words.

The last time I'd seen Heather McCarthy (before my funeral, of course) was seven years ago, in the school parking lot, watching the car carrying her get smaller and smaller in front of my own eyes, until I couldn't see it anymore. Ever since then, Tris and I rarely ever mentioned her, save for a few unfortunate times when her or her brother's name accidentally escaped someone's lips. Every time, her name either resulted in an argument, or the subject would be changed as quick as lightning, as though doing so would erase her existence from our mind, as though Tris and I would be able to erase a whole year from our memories.

I would be lying if I said that I hadn't thought of her, though. I'd thought of her many, many times. I just hadn't mentioned her out aloud, afraid of Tris's reaction, and my own. I'd wondered if she'd forgiven me, or if she could hold grudges for as long as I could. I wondered if she thought of me, or if she'd tried to forget me like one tried forgetting bad dreams and memories. I wondered if she missed me and if she wanted to meet me, though her own actions proved otherwise.

I knew one thing, though: if I ever saw her again, if I ever had the courage to dial the number I had branded in my head, I would thank her with my whole heart. Because she'd given me the one thing no one else could ever give, the one thing I'd wanted the most in my life, but just hadn't realized it: Tris.

But I knew that the number would never be dialed, and I knew that even if I saw her again, I would never have the courage to speak to her. To tell her that I was sorry and that I never meant to hurt her, and neither did Tris. Because thinking of her brought back a flood of memories of another person entirely. I person I wasn't sure I wanted to remember, ever.

I hadn't ever tried to contact her, and neither had she. Festivals went, time passed, until she didn't seem like a real person anymore, but just a part of my past; our past. A part I knew I could never forget, no matter how hard I tried.

But the girl standing in front of me was very, very real.

I felt rooted to the spot, unable to move forward. My legs seemed to have a brain of their own; they refused to take even a step ahead. I couldn't hear what they were talking about, and a small, buried part in the back of my mind wasn't sure that I wanted to.

I didn't know what she was doing her; I didn't know why Tris was talking to her. I was sure that he'd buried her as deep in his mind as I had, he'd never mentioned otherwise.

But then what was he doing with her right now? Why was he speaking to her all alone? Why didn't he take a step away from her?

I didn't know for how long I stood there, staring at the two figures in front of me in stunned silence, unable to think. Briefly, I wondered if Tris had been the one who called her to the funeral, but the idea was quickly buried under bigger, more serious thoughts.

I didn't know for how long I stood there, watching Tris talk to a girl I never thought I'd see again, before suddenly, he took a step away from her. I hadn't realized that I was holding my breath, and let it out slowly, a small, relieved smile forming across my face. Then Heather did something which made the smile fade as fast as it'd appeared.