wanted her funeral
to be in the morning, afternoon, or evening? Would she have even wanted me
there?
These were questions I kept asking myself all morning,
but the only person who could have answered them was gone, for good. One minute
I was yelling at her at the side of a road, and the next, she was dead. I was
grateful for our encounter at the coffee shop, that her last memory of me
wasn’t my screaming like a maniac—but still, as her roommate, and as her
friend, I could have done better.
Lukas pulled out of the complex and headed down
Canterbury Street, toward the 405 freeway. “Do you know what the parking
situation is there?” he asked.
“I'm not sure, actually. I've never been to this part
of the city.”
“You know the exit we take, right?”
“Yes. Here, I have the directions.” I pulled the paper
out of my purse, and unfolded it. “So the place is called Oakwood Memorial
Park. Take the 118 east to Topanga Canyon. It's in Chatsworth.”
“Chatsworth? Really?” Lukas let out a quick laugh.
“I’ve been there before. That’s where they make the porno movies.”
I rolled my eyes. “They do not.”
“They do, too! I read it online. Apparently if you
rent a place in Chatsworth, you have to check off on your lease agreement that
you’ll let them film sex scenes, gay and straight, in your bedroom. And if you
say no, then you have to...”
He stopped his lame joke when I started crying. I’d
cried enough for five years in the never-ending week following Melanie’s
passing, and I didn't think I had an extra tear to shed. Of course, I was
proven wrong last night, and again now, as we pulled onto the freeway.
“Aww, Sydney…” Lukas said. He grabbed the box of
Kleenex from the back seat and handed them to me. The man had come prepared.
I blew my nose, then shoved my hands over my face. “Oh
God,” I said. “It’s horrible, it’s just so horrible …”
“I know.”
“How could I have let this happen?”
“It's okay. We've gone over this—”
“How could I just let her die?” I struck my fist
against the glove compartment.
Lukas didn’t yell at me, didn’t scold me for beating
up his car. He just said, as he always did, “Shh. It’s okay.”
“I was so stupid,” I said. “I was such an idiot. Three
whole fucking days…”
“I know,” he said.
“She was dead in the room, all that time, and I didn’t
even know. What good is an A on my sociology final when I can’t fucking see
that my roommate’s dead?”
“Hey, you deserved that A—”
“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. If I had just paid
a little more attention to Melanie than to my goddamned finals, maybe she’d
still be alive.”
Lukas bit down on his lower lip, like he was trying to
find the right choice of words to put me at ease. “You don’t know that, Sydney.
Melanie died in her sleep. Even if you had found her the next
morning—hell, the middle of the night—there’s nothing you could
have done.”
I shook my head. I thought back on that weekend over
and over again, like a nightmare I could never wake up from. It had been two
weeks since her death, eleven days since we found her rotting in the dorm, and
all I’d accomplished since that catastrophic moment was moving into my new
apartment and learning the joys of insomnia.
“I should have gone with her to that party,” I said.
“She asked us if we wanted to go. I might have, if I hadn’t been such a pathetic
little bitch at that party Friday night.”
“Hey, hey, don’t talk about yourself like that!” He
raised his voice. Lukas never raised his voice. “People say it all the time,
and it’s true, as much as I hate to admit it. Sometimes... shit happens. Things
that are always meant to happen, that we can't possibly stop, even if we try.”
“But... she told me at Starbucks she didn't want to
get wasted that night, didn't even want to stay out late. If I had been there, I would have kept an eye on her. I
wouldn’t have let
to be in the morning, afternoon, or evening? Would she have even wanted me
there?
These were questions I kept asking myself all morning,
but the only person who could have answered them was gone, for good. One minute
I was yelling at her at the side of a road, and the next, she was dead. I was
grateful for our encounter at the coffee shop, that her last memory of me
wasn’t my screaming like a maniac—but still, as her roommate, and as her
friend, I could have done better.
Lukas pulled out of the complex and headed down
Canterbury Street, toward the 405 freeway. “Do you know what the parking
situation is there?” he asked.
“I'm not sure, actually. I've never been to this part
of the city.”
“You know the exit we take, right?”
“Yes. Here, I have the directions.” I pulled the paper
out of my purse, and unfolded it. “So the place is called Oakwood Memorial
Park. Take the 118 east to Topanga Canyon. It's in Chatsworth.”
“Chatsworth? Really?” Lukas let out a quick laugh.
“I’ve been there before. That’s where they make the porno movies.”
I rolled my eyes. “They do not.”
“They do, too! I read it online. Apparently if you
rent a place in Chatsworth, you have to check off on your lease agreement that
you’ll let them film sex scenes, gay and straight, in your bedroom. And if you
say no, then you have to...”
He stopped his lame joke when I started crying. I’d
cried enough for five years in the never-ending week following Melanie’s
passing, and I didn't think I had an extra tear to shed. Of course, I was
proven wrong last night, and again now, as we pulled onto the freeway.
“Aww, Sydney…” Lukas said. He grabbed the box of
Kleenex from the back seat and handed them to me. The man had come prepared.
I blew my nose, then shoved my hands over my face. “Oh
God,” I said. “It’s horrible, it’s just so horrible …”
“I know.”
“How could I have let this happen?”
“It's okay. We've gone over this—”
“How could I just let her die?” I struck my fist
against the glove compartment.
Lukas didn’t yell at me, didn’t scold me for beating
up his car. He just said, as he always did, “Shh. It’s okay.”
“I was so stupid,” I said. “I was such an idiot. Three
whole fucking days…”
“I know,” he said.
“She was dead in the room, all that time, and I didn’t
even know. What good is an A on my sociology final when I can’t fucking see
that my roommate’s dead?”
“Hey, you deserved that A—”
“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. If I had just paid
a little more attention to Melanie than to my goddamned finals, maybe she’d
still be alive.”
Lukas bit down on his lower lip, like he was trying to
find the right choice of words to put me at ease. “You don’t know that, Sydney.
Melanie died in her sleep. Even if you had found her the next
morning—hell, the middle of the night—there’s nothing you could
have done.”
I shook my head. I thought back on that weekend over
and over again, like a nightmare I could never wake up from. It had been two
weeks since her death, eleven days since we found her rotting in the dorm, and
all I’d accomplished since that catastrophic moment was moving into my new
apartment and learning the joys of insomnia.
“I should have gone with her to that party,” I said.
“She asked us if we wanted to go. I might have, if I hadn’t been such a pathetic
little bitch at that party Friday night.”
“Hey, hey, don’t talk about yourself like that!” He
raised his voice. Lukas never raised his voice. “People say it all the time,
and it’s true, as much as I hate to admit it. Sometimes... shit happens. Things
that are always meant to happen, that we can't possibly stop, even if we try.”
“But... she told me at Starbucks she didn't want to
get wasted that night, didn't even want to stay out late. If I had been there, I would have kept an eye on her. I
wouldn’t have let
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