65. Time Is Relentless

Laura - The cemetery
Today I remembered how I can still feel lonely even when surrounded by a lot of people. Their blurry faces kept dancing around me when Alisa told them I was the deceased’s niece.
I should have cried my lungs out, shouting that I was Beatrice’s older sister. But I merely stood there, frozen in place with my gaze on the floor, nodding from time to time.
Many of them didn't even bother to look at me. Some stared at the floor while others looked at the coffin.
I’m tired. A knot in my throat formed after hearing so many worthless words of comfort. Nothing can be said to soothe the aching inside my chest. So why do they keep spouting their useless consolations?
Whenever I think of her, my chest grows tight, and my throat dries.
It's hard to believe that she is gone. I remember all those times I snuck into her room to play with her when we were younger.
Time will pass me by regardless of whether I shield my eyes or close them firmly. Others' lives flash by in the blink of an eye. However, even if a match burns out in seconds, it may blind you more than any starry sky.
My jumbled thoughts are like the ocean waves, wandering, drifting, and torn apart. Various images of Beatrice, from when she was a baby until just a few days ago, flash before my eyes like an old, broken movie roll.
One by one, people start leaving. Why would they stay now that the dirt has settled upon the casket? They all came here solely to make an appearance anyhow.
If someone asks me what I'm thinking, I won't be able to answer them. Instead, I would shrug my shoulders and mumble something meaningless.
When the bench I’m sitting on screeches under a new weight, I turn to my right to see who’s there. My eyes widen at the sight of Paul.
He looks exhausted as if he hasn't been sleeping well. His hair is unkempt and his tie is loose as if he has rushed here.
He simply sits next to me, no words of consolation flowing from his lips. He doesn't try to touch me, yet the warmth he radiates dispels the typical chill inside me.
Birds chirp all around from the trees that give shadow to the graves. They have no care in the world; they don’t have any consideration for the dead.
The silence gives me enough room while pressing me to break it. “Why when someone dies, the world keeps going?”
The moment I utter my first words since his arrival, his gaze lingers on my face.
As if aware of the fact that there is no right or wrong answer to my question, Paul remains silent. Even though I haven't uttered a word in days, now they effortlessly flow out of my mouth.
"How many people can keep a secret to the end as she did? Beatrice kept my secret her whole life. She didn’t have a family of her own, as if she were afraid. I ruin everything around me. Can’t you see? I knew this moment would come when I won’t have anything left."
“You’re smart and strong, but that doesn't mean you don't need anyone by your side.” His hand slowly lands over mine. “You don’t have to feel lonely. I’m right here.”
I look straight into his eyes. My already shattered mind can’t keep up with his words; the sweetness in there is too much for me now. Does he really have to hit me with his kindness and leave me speechless like this?
A bird perches on the top of the cross with Beatrice’s name. The tiny creature, colored yellow and red, sings a lullaby, and tears well up in my eyes.
My existence feels like a sham. It’s empty and meaningless, utterly pointless. More so than the bird’s song.
“How can you keep living without knowing if a loved one is well now or not? And yet everyone can. How? I still haven't found out how.”
I burst into tears and feel like I’m shattering into pieces. But truth be told, I broke down a long time ago. I never thought that crying and mumbling crazy stuff would ever soothe me.
The more I talk, the more I feel the pain inside slipping away. I feel bad for losing the ache in my chest. I deserve that pain; it defines me.
But then Paul leans over me and kisses the top of my head, washing the last remnants away.
“You can cry as much as you want. I’ll be here to celebrate the good times with you. I’ll be here to help you when you’re in trouble. And I’ll be here to console you when you’re upset. And I’ll cry with you if need be.”
He sniffs my hair and wraps his arms around me as he continues, “I won't let anyone hurt you. Not even yourself. You've gone through hell, and I want to bring you out of it. Together. With me. Because we're meant for each other."
Emotions I denied myself before seep through his skin and his clothes together with his warmth, from one body to another. We stay like this, unmoving, for several long minutes.
How can he sink in with me and my soul as if this is how it was always supposed to be?
He’s gentle, warm, and tender when he’s with me. Ironically, these things make me uneasy. I'm not used to this.
"Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this now," he whispers in my ear. "You smell so good as if you were born to be mine."
A breeze blows through the graveyard and lifts my hair. I pull away, pushing my hair behind my ear to not get it stuck to my tears.
"I like how you tuck your hair behind your ear whenever you’re flustered, even if you still put on a straight face."
"Can we not do this here?" I ask, sliding another strand behind my other ear without even realizing it.
Paul rises from the bench and reaches out to me with a hand floating in the air, his palm up, inviting me to take it.
“Come with me. I’ll take you somewhere nice.”
I step forward and place my hand on his. He pulls me closer to him, and I fall against his chest. His heart beats fast and loud enough to drown out any sound.
When I look up, he gives me a caring smile. Through the cloud of my sadness, I see brightness. My lighthouse glows brilliantly once again, guiding me back to shore.