Writing prompt 3:
While at summer camp over a decade ago, five teenager's lives became irrevocably entwined. Now their paths have crossed again, now they must all come to terms with what happened that summer.
Right before service, the DiCaprio family gathered at the house. Friends that I've lost throughout the years were there. Past acquaintances, neighbors and even teachers. It held everybody that's the life she influenced. Marci, gone-too-soon.
I came only this day, back to this town. When I greeted her mother I held her hand solemnly. She trembled, swallowing down tears she smiled. Later in the evening, she'd glide her way from person to person like a ghost her face was pale as the grave. I was numb, quite frankly still in a state of disbelief. Marci was supposed to outlive us all. She was the glue of the group, the diligent student. Upon first hearing the news I was at a loss for words.
The service was swift, without pause. My mind kept drifting off to the people surrounding me. Old faces turned new, I could barely recognize any of them. I never liked funerals, they are draining. Leaving me with no energy for about a week or so. But today was about Marcie. I didn't leave immediately when the service was over and we were near the burial site. I All else around seemed to be moving at a speed I couldn't compete with. The incredulity of it all was astounding. I didn't even notice the group surrounding me. Old friends. Gretchen, standing next to me with her fruitful smile. She aged like fine wine, and her cheeks were still plump.
We could no longer linger outside, the rain started pouring. All four of us, no longer five-left to the church.
It was a huge turnout. I felt a bit claustrophobic, the humidity with the stench of tears made my eyes water. The others seemed despondent to the setting. Clara, on the far left, kept staring at the stained-glass windows. They were beautiful, coating Mary in an array of colors. She looked celestial. In front, the stage was decorated in black roses. Black roses were symbolic, they were beautiful and mysterious, like Marcie.
We were all cordial, by the time were able to speak. I noticed that Gretchen had a twang, a French lisp she caught from her husband. Clara's artistic personality was represented in the clothes she wore. With her black clothes, she wore neon bracelets, neon-highlights in her hair and bright heels. Tiana caught my attention, she was quiet. She was usually the rowdy one, always having something to say. Today, she spoke only when she needed to.
Out of blue, possessed by a question, "Do you think she came to terms with it?". We all looked at her, in shock and awe. Now that I could look at her more closely, she was quite beautiful. Her ginger locks accentuated the freckles dotting her cheeks. "I met her the other day, Lilo not Marcie". When we all heard that name, we each reacted differently. Some ceased from eye contact, others face it head-on. I nodded, not knowing how to react. "And?". Gretchen spoke first.
"She's happy". Like a light switch, the mood turned from one of guilt to gratitude. We each looked on, at the assembly of Marcie-lovers and felt humbled to be part of it, honored in fact. The rain was not harsh, it speckled across the rooftop. A sudden warmth seeped into the building, one of love and longing.