On the third ring, I snatch the phone off the wall. ‘Hello, Mom?’ For a moment there is nothing but silence. Maybe I let the phone ring too long and she hung up or maybe there is a bad connection. ‘Hello?’
‘Hey, Dawn.’
The male voice at the other end of the line sounds only too familiar.
‘Perry?’
‘I’m not disturbing you, am I?’
His voice sounds so calm and friendly. I haven’t heard this voice in so long, I had almost forgotten what it sounds like.
‘No, not at all. I’ve been worried about you.’
I take the phone, stretching the cord across the kitchen, to look into the living room where Brian is sitting on the couch, and motion to him. He gets up and quietly walks into the kitchen and waits. I put my finger to my lips and he nods, understanding my gesture to stay quiet.
‘No worries, I’m fine.’ Perry says. ‘I know you have been leaving messages and stopping by. I shouldn’t have given you the cold shoulder like that. I’m sorry.’
‘I deserve it.’ I know that now is my time to pour out my heart to him. ‘Perry, I am so sorry about everything. I don’t want to fight any more. I want things to go back to how they were with us.’
‘Dawn, it’s okay.’ His tone is so calm, so forgiving. ‘Everything’s okay.’
I should feel a wave of relief, but instead I am feeling a twist in my gut. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something isn’t right.
‘Perry, are you okay? Can I come over?’
‘Yes, I’m okay – and no, you don’t need to come over.’
‘I know I don’t need to – I want to.’
‘Have you read my manuscript yet?’
‘Yes. I think it’s great. You should get it published.’
Perry chuckles. ‘Do me a favour? If you believe that it is really that good, can you find a publisher?’
‘Of course!’
‘But first I want to change the ending. I was hoping you could help with that.’
‘Sure, that would be fun.’
Perry goes quiet. My stomach twists again as I wait out the silence.
‘Dawn – you know I’ve never stopped loving you, right?’
There’s a change in his voice. And there goes my stomach again, feeling as though I can vomit right here on the spot.
‘Perry,’ I try to compose myself. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I just wanted you to know that I love you.’ He pauses. ‘And by the way, Brian is a good guy. You should give him another chance. He really does care about you.’
I look over at Brian who is leaning his back against the wall, watching me, listening, waiting.
‘Perry?’
‘You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Dawn. For that, I will always love you.’
‘Perry…’ I want to say more in my weak voice, but it is too late. He hangs up. I put the phone down and turn to Brian with a sense of urgency. ‘Do you have the car?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I need you to take me to Perry’s house. Something’s wrong.’
‘Let’s go.’
Brian gets his hat and gloves and hurries out to start the car as I put on my shoes and coat. Before heading out the door, I check my pocket for my house key and then lock the door behind me, walking steadily down the slippery pavement to the car.
Fighting the sickening knots in my stomach, I tell Brian how to get to Perry’s house and the fastest way to get there. Brian drives as fast as he dares on the icy roads.
We pull up in front of Perry’s house in a matter of minutes and I jump out before Brian has the chance to take the key out of the ignition. I struggle up the snow-covered walkway and up to the door. Brian is coming up behind me to stand at the door with me. I try the knob. It’s locked. Just as I raise my fist to knock, there is a loud crack.
I jump. My hand is frozen in the ready to knock position. I look at Brian; his eyes are wide and I watch all the colour drain from his face. Time seems to stop.
I can only stand and watch as Brian wrestles with the door, slamming it with his shoulder, kicking the solid oak to no avail. Brian steps through the deep snow over to the window, takes off his coat and wraps it around his arm, then turning his face away, he punches through the glass. The glass gives way in large shards and falls away from the frame. Brian hops up and crawls through the window and hurries around to the door to unlock it from the inside. He grabs my hand and we walk through the clutter, stopping at the hall that leads to Perry’s bedroom.
‘Perry?’ Brian calls out. ‘It’s Brian and Dawn.’
My stomach begins twisting with unbearable pain when there is no answer. What was that sound? Why doesn’t Perry answer?
Slowly, we step down the hall, looking into the side rooms as we pass. All empty. When we get to Perry’s door, Brian stops to look at me, squeezing my hand. Then he pushes the door. The door creaks open, revealing a messy room and something lying on the bed. Not something; someone.
Perry is lying on his bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Blood is spattered on the wall behind him, all over the Pretty In Pink poster. One arm is dangling off the bed and within inches of his fingertips, on the floor, is something black and shiny. A handgun.
I pull my hand free of Brian’s grip and step forward, my eyes fixed on the shocking scene before me. I am vaguely aware that I am panting, that my heart is pounding hard in my chest. Nausea and rising vomit leave a bitter taste in my mouth. I can make out the blank look on Perry’s face. The slack jaw and the blood on his teeth. The hole in his skull and the puddle of blood, skull and brain matter soaking his bed. I feel like I’m going to faint. Like a zombie I step over to the foot of the bed, fall to my knees and then I do throw up, all over a pile of dirty clothes. When I think my stomach should be empty, I heave again and again, until I’m sure that my guts will come out through my mouth.
From behind me, Brian pulls back my hair and hands me a dry shirt from the floor. I wipe my mouth and push myself up. Turning away from the bed, Brian puts his arms around me and walks me out of the room.
‘I’ve called for help,’ he says.
Brian must have made the call when I let go of his hand to go stand by the bed. I shouldn’t have done that. Now that image of Perry’s defiled body will be burned forever in my mind.
In the living room we sit on the couch. I hold on to Brian like he is the only solid thing in this world. He is shaking. I can feel it, even through my own shaking. All I can think of is where the hell is that ambulance?
Pretty soon I can hear the sirens. They are getting louder, coming closer. Then I hear a noise outside, and the front door flies open. A man in uniform steps in, followed by another, both carrying bags of equipment. Brian points to the hall.
‘The last bedroom,’ is all that he can say.
I can tell it is taking every ounce of his strength to remain calm. I think that it should be easier for him; Perry was not his friend. He did not get a close look at Perry lying back there. He didn’t see the dead eyes, the bloody teeth, the hole, the brains, the skull fragments. He didn’t see those things, and for that I envy him. And curse myself.
We are still sitting on the couch when the police arrive soon after the paramedics. Brian does most of the talking. I can’t do more than nod or shake my head. I temporarily forget how to form words. The paramedics look me over; they tell me that I’m in shock. I can understand what the paramedics tell me. Everything else seems more like just blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, like in the Charlie Brown cartoons, where only the kids can speak real words and all of the adults speak an incomprehensible language.
After the police are done talking with Brian, they let us go. We walk back to the car, where Brian opens the door for me and helps me inside, like I’m some invalid. I sit, looking at the house. I’m watching the paramedics leave and more police cars arrive. I watch the scene for as long as I can while Brian fires up the engine and pulls away slowly down the street.
Bac
k home, Brian opens the car door for me. I’m on autopilot. I get out of the car, and stick my hand in my pocket to retrieve my house key as I walk up to the door. I put the key into the lock and, with a twist of my wrist, I turn the knob and the door opens. Autopilot.
Inside, I slip out of my parka and shoes and curl up on the couch. My parents are still away. Brian takes off his jacket, hat and gloves and squats down in front of me.
‘I’m going to call my parents,’ he says. ‘Do you need anything? Something to drink? The remote?’
I shake my head.
Brian gets up and disappears into the kitchen. I hear him talking on the phone. I can’t quite understand what is being said. But it’s only words. Meaningless words. Afterwards we sit on the couch together; not speaking, just sitting there as the room darkens with the setting sun. At some point Brian turns on the light and the television with the volume down so low it is barely audible.
It’s getting late and Brian is trying to hold back his yawns. I am exhausted and want very badly to fall asleep, but I doubt that would happen. There’s still too much of today in my mind.
There is a noise at the front door. I look over just as my parents are coming into the house, shaking snow off their coats as they step inside. Mom looks over at us on the couch. She seems surprised.
‘Grandma will be okay,’ Mom says as she removes her coat and boots.
Dad steps in behind her and shuts the door. ‘You kids shouldn’t be up this late on a school night.’
I look over to Brian with tears in my eyes. I want to tell them, but I know that if I try to speak I will babble like a fool. The way Brian looks at me before he stands up, I can see that he understands.
‘Uh, I don’t quite know how to say this…’ His troubled eyes look to both my parents, ‘Perry has killed himself.’
I draw my knees into my chest and bury my face in them to weep. I can’t watch my parents for their reaction, it would be too painful. I just can’t bear any more pain right now.
‘No…’ Mom starts to cry.
‘What happened?’ Dad demands in a trembling voice.
‘He shot himself.’ Brian answers, but his voice is now starting to fail him. ‘By the time we got to his house, it was too late.’
Next thing I know, Mom is on the couch holding me and we both cry. I can hear Dad talking with Brian and at some point, I don’t quite know when, Brian leaves. Then, from somewhere in the darkness of the kitchen, I can hear Dad crying.
CHAPTER 7
It’s the next day. I do nothing but lie in bed, drifting in and out of sleep. After thinking last night that I would never sleep again, when it finally does come, it hits me hard. I get up once or twice to go to the bathroom and even though my stomach howls with hunger, I ignore it, preferring the empty void of sleep. Every time I wake up, my body aches and the numbness in my brain leaves me feeling weak and empty. Mom came in once in the morning to tell me that she had called the school. The school allows five days grievance for approved absences; but that is the last thing I care about.
At night, Mom comes in to my room to tell me about Dad going over to Perry’s house to speak with Perry’s mom. Perry’s mom can’t afford a wake or a funeral. That is no surprise to me. She can afford all the alcohol in the world, but she can’t afford to keep food in her house or pay for her own son’s funeral. I start to get angry with Perry’s mom, until Mom tells me that Dad is offering to pay for the funeral. Somehow that brought me some relief. Perry’s mom never did much for him while he was alive, and she isn’t about to start now. In fact, she is letting Dad take care of all the arrangements.
Mom’s on my bed telling me all this and when she is done, she just sits there. She’s waiting for me to say something, but I have nothing to say.
‘We loved him too, Dawn.’
Why did she say that? I know she did. They both did, Mom and Dad. Does she want to make me cry some more? No – she just wants me to know, that’s all.
‘We’ll get through this together.’ Mom’s voice is shaking.
I roll over; I don’t want her to see the tears running down my cheeks. I just want to sleep and forget. It takes energy to cry and I just don’t have that energy. But when she leaves the room, I find enough to cry myself back to sleep.
It’s three days before the funeral takes place. That’s three days of lying in bed, or on the couch in front of the television, in the same pyjamas, just existing. I feel safe in the comfort of my own home. I don’t have to see anyone or talk to anyone. At some point during those three days, I’ve managed to carry Perry’s bag up to my room and toss it into a corner. Having it there, it makes me feel like he might be coming back for it somehow. Wishful thinking, but it brings me some odd comfort.
My parents are being kept busy between Grandma in the hospital and the funeral arrangements. They give me lots of space when they are home and only speak to try to get me to eat something. I just don’t have the energy it would take to chew and swallow. I can’t stand the thought of eating.
Now it’s the day of the funeral, and I don’t want to leave the house. I don’t want to talk to people, to view Perry’s body in an open casket, or see others cry. I don’t want to go. I feel like I’m the worst person in the world for not wanting to go to my best friend’s funeral. But I feel that by going, it makes it all real. Perry is dead. I am alone. Going will only make me face reality.
There is a knock at my door. I look up from my pillow to see Dad, all dressed up in one of his best suits. He sits down on the edge of the bed and with one hand he sweeps the hair out of my face.
‘We leave in an hour,’ he says. ‘This is going to be hard, Dawn, but you need to do this. This is the last time you will get to say goodbye and if you don’t go, you will regret it for the rest of your life.’
The rest of my life. I just can’t see that far ahead.
‘Get up, take a shower and get dressed.’ It’s more of an order than a request. ‘We’ll be waiting downstairs for you.’
Dad leaves me. He knows that I will do as he says, for Perry as much as for him and Mom. I look deep inside myself for the strength to push my weary body up off the bed. Get up. Fine, I’m up. A good shower will help me. After three days in the same clothes, I definitely need one. Okay Dad, I’ll shower and dress. I’ll do it, but I’m not going to like it.
I sit in the back of Dad’s car on the way to Masons Funeral Home. I don’t notice the ride and pretty soon we pull into the car park. There are quite a few cars. I doubt they are all for Perry. He didn’t know a lot of people.
I walk behind Mom and Dad. Maybe no one will notice me or speak to me if I’m hiding behind them. That’s what I want. It seems to work.
As we approach the room set aside for Perry, I stop at the open doors while Mom and Dad sign the guest book. From here I can see the casket on display.
One of the funeral attendants – I’m assuming a Mason, since this is a family-owned business – is standing outside the doors, greeting the mourners and asking them to sign the book. He is speaking to my parents in a soft voice, a comforting tone for mourners. It makes me feel sick. I take the pen from the book and look over the signatures. I recognize a few of them; Brian and Carla, and then the names of a few teachers. I don’t see Perry’s mom’s signature. Maybe she isn’t here yet.
I sign my name and avoid looking at the attendant with his sickening, soft, understanding smile. I wander over to stand in the open doorway and hover, counting heads, looking to see who is where. I see a lot of familiar faces. I can’t help but feel that we’re all dressed up like we are at a freaking party and not a funeral. At the far end of the room, a dark oak casket with gold trim is laid out surrounded by flowers. Not too many flowers. The biggest arrangement is from our school. The small arrangements scattered around the casket are those picked out by Mom. One end of the casket is open, revealing the white satin liner. And the object of my fear. My heart is pounding in my chest, I have to remind myself to breathe. Inhale. Exhale. I can’t d
o this. I want to run. Just turn around and run away.
‘Dawn?’
I jump. I turn to the familiar voice and familiar face and look at him. I know this person. What’s his name? I know his name. Of course, it’s Brian. A brief smile curls one corner of his mouth.
‘You look like you need a hand to hold.’
I look down as he holds out his hand to me. Maybe a familiar touch will bring some comfort. Maybe it will be the distraction I need. I reach out and he closes his fingers gently around my hand. I am surprised to see him here. I am surprised to see Carla and the teachers. They are mostly here out of a sense of obligation. Perry really didn’t have many people to care for him. There are still many empty seats in this room, the smallest room available.
I walk with Brian around the laid-out seats and up towards the front where Carla is talking with Mr Valentine. I try not to look over at the casket. We are so close now that I am afraid I might accidentally see what lies inside.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ Mr Valentine says, laying a gentle hand on my shoulder. ‘If you need anything, I’m here for you.’
How am I supposed to respond to that? ‘Thanks.’
‘Have you seen him yet?’ Carla says.
‘What?’ I look at her.
‘They did a good job with the make-up, you can’t even tell…’
‘Carla!’ Brian interrupts.
A look of disgust is written all over my face, but I know Carla just doesn’t think before she speaks. She is an idiot.
‘I’m sorry,’ Carla says as she is ushered away by Mr Valentine.
‘She doesn’t think,’ Brian says, shaking his head. ‘Do you want to see Perry before the service begins?’
Brian motions to the priest who is entering the room. I look the room over once more. I guess this is all who will be attending. This is all there is for Perry, my best friend. I glance over at the casket. I feel like Perry’s spirit is calling me over to say hi. Stupid, I know, but…
I hold Brian’s hand a little tighter. Maybe I can draw from him the strength I need to walk by the casket and peek inside. I know I have to go over there. ‘Come with me?’ I ask him.
Breaking Dawn Page 6