Post Mortem Post Stationery

Chapter 3

Absolutely jarring. It was just shock. It hit her like a train, the one that had left her bruised for a year. After getting hit by the train, she had just staggered for a while. She had staggered to the road. And the pain overtook her. That was the same as what unfolded. At least, similar to it. The shock, the pain. But what was the staggering? What was that odd man calling 9-1-1? What was her lying in the hospital? Recovery, she mused, for the last one. But that couldn't be. Nothing could fix her. She was broken forever.
  The week after the funeral, no one would look her in the eye. Not her teachers, not her friends, not her parents. The most she got was a guilty glance and a look at apparently very-interesting shoes... she didn't see anything special about the footwear. Everyone did that except one. She could hardly believe he looked at her straight, much less remember her name. It was pretty traitorous, what she did. It was quite some time ago, but she could still remember those words, and he probably could, too.
  He not only looked her on the eye, he walked and talked with her. He had started on Wednesday. Before, she was just trying to hold it in, trying to look strong. Inside she was absolutely torn up. But when he came her way, and offered a listening ear, and a hand to hold, it all came out. It was Wednesday afternoon. She was walking around outside, what she had to do for P.E. She hated it. It gave her more time to brood. When she was with other people, even if they wouldn't look her in the eyes, or talk very much, they were still something to keep her mind off of James. In this class, there was no one. They all had different classes. All except him. Everyone had separated, walking at different paces. He came up from behind. "How are you? Well, no, I know how you are. How can I help?" That was wonderful. He always was very sweet. "Just be here. Look me in the eyes. Talk to me. No one else will." He gave her a grin. A small one, tainted with sadness, but still a grin. She talked to him, day after day, letting out some sadness, and fear. She had barely unstoppered her great cask of sour wine. But he seemed to hold the vinegar as well as her cask. Better. If this was a nightreaver, it wasn't doing its job.
   He just kept walking and talking with her. He did that as much as he could. He did that every weekday, and then, on the 27th, a week after the funeral, he had come by. He had knocked, and asked if she wanted to hang out. She had ran into her parent's room. Both of them were in there, and both said that they thought getting out would be good for her. He took her, hand in hand, down to the inaccurately labeled ice cream parlor, Thomas's. It actually belonged to Jay Hoffman. He was such a friendly guy. Everyone went there. It was homemade ice cream, made by Jay and some family members. She and James had gone there many times before. She could feel tears welling up as they crossed the threshold.