Falling for a Memory

Friday, September 27, 2019 cont.

Believe me, I never meant to intrude. I hope you weren't insulted.

During the service, all I could think of was how your friends saw me. Were their noses curling with disgust? Were they pulling at their neighbor's coat, so they could both point and glare at me? Were they whispering in each other's ear, speculating why I had wandered into this sacred ritual?

Instead of thinking of you, I sat there observing your family, watching them and scrutinizing them. I thought about the broad-shouldered usher with a buzz cut and a stony jaw. I worried he might come up and drag me out of the pew so he could escort me to the back, to where I belonged.

Of course, they didn't. I'm not important to them, and I was a fool for thinking otherwise. All eyes were on you, and nothing existed beyond the view of your solemn casket. Did you think me self-centered? I deserve that. I was selfish for assuming I was even a blip on their radar, just as I was selfish for maintaining my seat so close to your cold, silent body. It was my fault for not correcting the usher, and it was my fault for sitting amongst those whom you loved. That seat should have gone to another. What I should have done was just made my peace back when I first saw your obituary.

It was just this morning, when everything seemed like an ordinary Friday. The autumn showers left my apartment damn near freezing, and I was prodded awake as my cat nuzzled further and further into the pit of my stomach. I plucked myself from the sheets, leaving my furry companion, Ophelia, half covered in blankets. My feet slid their way into slippers and shuffled through my shoe box sized room and into the kitchen. I began making coffee from my week old grinds when I heard Lia's bulky body thump against the concrete carpet of my bedroom floor. The little scavenger made her way over, wrapping her body around my legs, begging for the waffles I was warming up in my toaster.

Uninterested in adding to her continued weight gain, I left her there to purr and nudge while I busied myself with the thick coffee that smelled slightly like burnt rubber. I poured it into my cracked Blakeman & Associates mug before Lia jumped up onto the kitchen counter, which also serves as my dining room table. From there she watched me, her eyes wide as her long fluffy tail whipped back and forth across the laminate.

"Don't spread your fur where I eat." I waved my hand at her, my fingertips almost brushing her nose. A low growl curled from her throat, and she leapt from the countertop and landed with another thud before scurrying off. With a sigh, I filled up her bowl with proper cat food and topped off her water. Then I sat down and took a sip of my tar black coffee.

I checked the time on my food encrusted microwave; it was only 6:13, and I didn't have to be at work until 8:00. Not that my bosses would have minded me coming in a little early. However, you were always right on time every morning, stepping into the elevator with a crisp stride at around 7:45, and I didn't want to miss our daily greetings to one another. So, instead of preparing for the day, I grabbed my laptop from the shelf and placed it onto the countertop next to my mug of thick sludge that I wasn't sure qualified as acceptable coffee. I then pulled up Facebook, allowing my news feed to load as I plucked my waffles out of the toaster and poured some water into my coffee to thin it out. Finally, I settled in to scan the posts that littered my feed, expecting nothing out of the ordinary to catch my interest.

However, after scrolling past memes, baby photos, political nonsense, and gibberish about celebrities I've never heard of, I found your face smiling up at me. I scrolled through with such mindless attentiveness that your grim message almost became another pixelated blur to my bleary eyes. But, your smile, your smile was so hard to miss and I couldn't believe what luck I had in finding your sweet face grinning at me so early in the morning.

Apparently you knew an old classmate of mine from high school. I couldn't even tell you what class we took together or if we even had a class together. I was certain I was only friends with this person because I friended everyone remotely connected to me back when I first joined Facebook and only a rare few ignored my request. But, in that moment, I felt nothing but gratitude towards my past self because this small connection between you and me meant I got to see your face on my news feed.