The house was mercifully empty when he got home. He didn’t want to have to explain to his parents why he was so silent, or why his eyes were so red. At dinner he wondered briefly if they already knew. They carefully didn’t ask him about his day, something they had done every day for as long as he could remember. When he said he was going to bed, his mother hugged him for a long time.
The next day he went to school as usual. Every once in a while he’d catch other students talking about Lina, or rather, her death. Bryce wouldn’t say anything but he listened intently to their conversations, as if their words were a final glimpse of Lina herself.
Despite it all, Bryce was able to get along almost like nothing had happened. But there were things that were markedly different. Smiles seemed absurd to him. Laughter made him jump. And there was always the feeling that something was off, not quite right. As if a color was suddenly taken from the world or everything had turned fuzzy around the edges. It wasn’t the same feeling as if something was missing, like a puzzle piece from a picture. Bryce didn’t always expect to see Lina walk through a door or down a hall because he’d never seen her that often in the first place. Yet he felt her absence.
Then there were the emotions. Often he’d find his mind wandering. He’d imagine Lina running in the park, her bare legs flashing as the grass whispered under her shoes. She’d vault over the low fence like he’d seen her do so many times in track practices and meets.
“I can fly, too, Bryce. Just watch me,” he’d hear her pant as if he were running right beside her. And then with one final leap, she’d throw herself out into the open air. He couldn’t bring himself to imagine the horrible moment when she actually hit the rocks. But he could imagine the after image: her body crumpled over the rocks, limbs twisted and bent in angles they shouldn’t. Her hair fanned out about her and a red bloom of blood framed her body. No matter how many waves he imagined crashed over her, the blood stayed, unmoved.
The guilt and the sorrow would leave him paralyzed.
It was after school on the third day that he decided to visit Lina’s house.
Her mother answered when he knocked. Her face was grim and gaunt. Dark shadows haunted her face, making her red eyes look all the more prominent. Her hair was swept back from her face but remained a tangled mess. Her clothes were wrinkled and she clutched a tissue in one hand.
“Bryce,” she said and before he knew it, she was hugging him. She didn’t say anymore, just held him tightly.
The sight of her, more than anything else, brought the hysterical sorrow to the surface. A few tears dropped from his eyes and he struggled with his features for a long time. He was glad Lina’s mother was hugging him for so long and couldn’t see him. Finally she drew away.
“I’m sorry,” he said thickly.
“I’m glad you came,” she said. “She left something for you.” Bryce raised his eyebrows. “A...A letter.” A suicide note.
A strange feeling of dread spread in Bryce’s chest. Lina would condemn him, he was sure. The whole idea of killing herself, of jumping off a cliff, would be blamed on him. How could it not? And at the same time, Bryce craved the blame. He hoped she would blame him. He deserved it.
Lina’s mother lead him down a narrow hallways and opened a door on the right, Lina’s bedroom. On the neatly made bed was an envelope with Bryce’s name on it.
“She left one for us, and Carrie, too,” her mother said. Her voice was shaking. Bryce walked over and picked up the envelope. He stared at it for a long moment. Finally he looked up at her mother.
“Do you mind if I sit in here for a while?” he asked.
“No, of course,” her mother said. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” The she quietly shut the door behind her.
When her footsteps had faded down the hall, Bryce sat down on Lina’s bed and looked at the envelope again. His name was written in neat capital letters in blue pen. Slipping his thumb under the flap, he tore open the envelope. The letter inside was written on notebook paper in black ink. “Dear Bryce,” it started. The two words sounded so formal but he could hear Lina’s voice in them.
