Psychopomp Magazine Summer 2014 - Page 28

24 | Psychopomp Magazine

air. He clicked off the skis, running with his heels raised in the boots, his knees straining, as I skidded into the orange fencing separating the run from the brush. I came to with him over my face, shaking me, gently but insistently, repeating my name over and over.

The wedding was beautiful, it truly was. The theme was country rustic, and the whole event was held in her family’s barn. Vera had selected periwinkle, yellow and brown for the scheme. It wouldn’t have been my choice, but she had overseen every last detail, and everyone agreed it was all so lovely. The wildflowers tucked into the cake slices were an especially nice touch.

I had never really imagined my own wedding to Daniel; it had always seemed so far off, so assumed it need not even be considered. I could never have imagined the look on his face as he pulled the veil up and over his bride’s face or his unfaltering voice as he promised to always be faithful and kind. I could never have imagined his happiness at the reception, where he danced like an idiot and ate like a bear.

They will find my body after the happy couple leaves for the honeymoon on an island far away. Daniel will not be at the funeral, as everyone will agree to avoid telling him until he is home. When he hears the news about my body’s final overdose, he will feel heavy and light at the same time. But mostly, he will feel the sensation of coarse sand between his fingers. He will touch his wife’s cheek, smooth and soft, and he will hold her gaze for a very long time.