Pride

Pride.

         The dead may do no wrong.

         That’s how I saw it anyways.

         I checked my wrist watch for the time. 8:43 a.m. He was late. He shouldn’t be late- he never was. If anything, Benjamin was a pragmatist- my dear, punctual, penny-pincher.  He was dear, now that I think of it. He actually came to the funeral service.  Watching the service from afar, I’d seen the guy, who’d never shed a tear, mourn until his eyes gleamed red. It’s such a pity he could never understand the truth.

         As I waited, one train like a cunning silver serpent whooshed by, sweeping my hair back and blowing the newsprint into my chest. Around me strange tides swirled as people flooded in and out. Another serpent whooshed passed. The people kept flowing. Never stopping. Never caring to stop. I was nothing- a stick caught in the current. No one knew who I was and if they did, I doubt they cared. This was a city where no one sleeps, apparently no one stops moving either.

         I didn’t get it. Things were not supposed to be this way- that, there, was three days after my funeral. Three whole days after my loved ones poured dirt over my coffin. There should be none of this hustle – I, of all people, had so tragically passed away… or that’s the official story anyways.

         I straightened out the newspaper and searched through it, flipping through the articles. Then I found it- the Obituaries.  There I was, center of the page, name in bold letters.  “Virginia Ann 'Ginny' Roper. Born: March 6, 1986. Died: November 15, 2010.” What followed was vague- I could bet that Benjamin had paid by the word. He always had been frugal. He chose his words too cautiously. But there I was- my name in print, and still no effect. These were tides of an impenetrable nature.

         I tore the page from the newspaper and shoved it into my coat pocket. 

         Then, among the tides, I noticed a familiar face. The curl of his grin made my heart sink. Each sauntered step as he drew nearer made me grow colder- the situation was becoming real.  I had only been gone three days and now even Benjamin no longer cared. My throat tightened as though all the air had left the tunnel. The newspaper slipped from my grip spilling onto the subway tiles- the loose pages fluttered.

         I didn’t know whether to scoff or cry- no, I couldn’t cry. I wouldn’t let myself do that. Suddenly, this was all too much; the burden, unbearable.  I backed away, stepping back over the red line on the tile floor, I could feel the edge of the platform. My gaze never left him.

         Benjamin’s eyes met mine. His skin went pale and his smile vanished. He gaped with a sentimental fear, uttering but one word: “Ginny…”

         I could hear another steal serpent wriggling in its hole.

         Things weren’t supposed to happen this way.

         It was too late to turn back. My plans failed- my “death” had meant nothing. The serpent wriggled ever closer, squealing as it rolled over it tracks.

         I took another step back, off the platform and onto the tracks.