The mood on the inside of the lake house was much different. A man no older than thirty two could be seen from the front window on the second floor. He stood in front of a full length mirror. His shaky hands ran over his shaven head. His azure eyes filled to the brim with tears, blood shot from a full night of sobs, his usually tanned skin looking pale and frail. He had woken up that morning gripping a bottle of whiskey he had fell asleep with. His nose was pink and as he ran his hands along his cheeks he could feel the tracks of tears as they dried over night.
He stood to the mirror, and as he flattened the collar of his button down shirt, his hands turned to his tie and he tightened it to his neck and swallowed hard, his Adams apple running along the silk of his white button up shirt as it bobbed up and down.
The man thumbed the ring on his finger, twisting it around and around. His eyes struck forward as he walked away from his reflection and before he stepped out of the room he picked up his black over coat and slipped it over his shoulders.
As he walked down the stairs the silence that had overcome the house was broken. The heels of his shoes ticked against the hard wood of each step. His hand ran along the slick wood of the railing. His hands were sweaty making the move down easier.
He ignored the photos as he walked past the living room. Knowing one glance would be his end. He didn t look back as he exited the front door and locked it. He walked towards his car; He got in and was out of the drive way in less than three minutes.
Taking in deep breaths as he pulled up to the cemetery, he put the car in park and turned off the engine. His hands gripping the wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. His eyes glued to the leather of the passenger seat.
There was a knock at his window and he was awoken from his thoughts. His closest friend motioned him from the car and he followed him up the walk way. The grass of the cemetery was just as green as the grass at his lake house. If not softer, he burned to lean down and run his fingers through the blades, as if they were sharp enough to make him bleed. Maybe the free flow of his crimson fluid would make the pain go away.
He stopped in front of the dark hole in the ground the casket only feet away from whole scene was covered by a large black tarp held up by hoary poles. He stood in the front row. A throng of people had already arrived, he almost felt bad for being the last. He folded his hands in front of him and tilted his head down. He could feel his friends hand on his back. He rubbed back in forth. He held back a snarl. He couldn t understand how people thought one simple gesture could make pounds of pain and sorrows go away. He held back the urge to push the others arms away and scream to the high heavens for him to not touch him.
As the man before him began to talk he could no longer hold it back and the tears began to spill once more. And he yearned for the bottle of whiskey he had stashed under his kitchen sink nights before. He ran his tongue over his chapped lips at the thought of the coppery liquid burning its way down his throat.
The habit of thumbing the ring on his finger picked up again and it only proved to be more depressing as he slid it from his finger, and quickly slipped it back into his pocket next to a similar one. His teeth came down to clamp over his bottom lip as the tips of his fingers slid across the silver ring.
Would anyone like to say a few words? The man stepped down from his pedestal and motioned to the crowed.
He felt himself being nudged and he glanced side ways. He glared and pulled the sheet of white crumpled paper from his other pocket and walked forward, and past the elder man to stand on behind the pedestal.
He cleared his throat and unfolded his letter. He looked up once more, his eyes were blurred and all he saw were indistinct figures of what he knew were family and friends. His hand came up to whip away the fresh tears making their way down his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.
Hello, my name is Randal Orton and I am Cody's husband by common law. He began; he paused to clear his throat once more free of sobs. I met Cody when he was just starting his wrestling carrer at OVW. I had never met any one like him. He was determind, and believed in himself in a way no one else ever had He looked back up at the crowed. His eyes falling to his friend once again,he held a soft smile for him and his head nodded for him to continue. Randy hated the way he was always there for him.
As the years passed on it became clearer and clearer to Cody and I that we were meant to be. But Cody was always one to do things different so instead of a huge wedding we decided on Common Law. And with that came a ring I had engraved for him. His hand slipped into his pocket to finger in and out of the smaller sized object.
I heard about Cody's death while I was out of town. His father had called me. He took in a deep breath as his grey eyes meet those of Cody's fathers, just as blue as his sons. He winced at the similarity between his lovers own and the older man. I rushed home as fast as I could, knowing it was too late. But I couldn t believe it. He could hold it in no longer and a loud sob escaped his lips as he began again. Cody was god s grace to this world. He never harmed anyone; in fact he saw to it that he avoided all people who did. God didn t take him away to spite anyone; he took Cody away for selfish reasons. And I do not blame him. The penned writing was smudged by his tears as he continued down the page.
Someday I hope to see him again, and when I do we will continue where we left off, in love and happy. He ended and folded the paper back up; stuffing it in his pockets he stepped down. As he walked by the casket he pulled Cody's ring from his pocket, brought it to his tear stained lips and placed it amongst the white roses atop the mahogany wood.
He ignored the others as he walked past, back to his car where he slid back in and before he took off he dug into his pocket and placed his ring back onto his finger, a small smile came to his lips and he started his drive home. Knowing that when he got there his own bottle of hard alcohol would be calling for him.