CHESS
Chapter Two
The pew is hard, I decided, shifting yet again to try and get comfortable. The priest was droning on and on and I glared at my hands, which shifted restlessly in my lap. I was so angry I almost didn't want to be here, but I knew I had to.
For her.
The priest told us all of her beauty and her virtue, of how she died tragically, with no one but the angels to care for her now. I didn't know this girl he spoke of. The Diana I knew loved playing poker and drank whisky with the best of the boys. The Diana I knew was a hothead and she was shallow, but she was also very kind and generous. The Diana I knew fancied herself with Racetrack, admiring and pining from afar, waiting for the right chance to tell him.
She would never get that chance now.
The priest did not mention the terribleness of how she died. He didn't tell us why the casket remained closed, so nobody would have to see how mangled her body was from throwing herself so carelessly down the staircase in Ashfield Manor. He didn't mention that she faced the seventh layer of Dante's Hell for finally taking control of something that was actually hers and ending her own life. But it wasn't like they would. In this life, you were always a good Christian girl, whether or not you actually were.
We followed the procession outside, some elders carrying out her casket, setting it into the large damp hole that was all ready dug out for her. We stood around the hole as the priest led us in one final prayer:
O Greatest Heart of Jesus, ever present in the Blessed Sacrament, ever consumed with burning love for the poor captive souls in Purgatory. Have mercy on the Soul of Thy departed servant. Be not severe in Thy judgment but let some drops of Thy precious blood fall upon the devouring flames, and do Thou O merciful Saviour send thy angels to conduct Thy departed servant to a place of refreshment, light, and peace. Amen. May the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.
And then, just like that, it was over. I watched with pain as the workers began to throw dirt over my best friends' head. Something broke off in my heart and fell away, crumbling in the cave of my belly. Tears welled in my eyes but I wouldn't let myself cry. Not yet.
Medda crossed the grass and embraced me. I leaned into her and sighed, trying to swallow back the thickness that gathered in my throat. "I am so sorry about Diana, Lissa. It must be so hard. I can't even imagine your pain." I nodded mutely, shuddering from the inside. "Is Spot here, Lissa?" she asked quietly.
I nodded again and leaned back, wiping at my eyes before the tears spilled. I hated the sadness that weighed me down like a lead anchor. It crept in my bones and left me frigid and heavy. I just wanted to die, to curl up beside Diana in that casket and keep her safe. Just like I'd wanted to do with my mother, and now with Sean and the birds.
Marcus and Mrs. Pemberton stayed huddled together. Mrs. Pemberton was blubbering on about her poor, unfortunate daughter, but only I could see how she fawned under their worry, their sympathy. Diana didn't deserve such a torturous existence. In some way, I was glad she was gone. At least she didn't have to live in such lies any longer.
People that didn't even know Diana well were sobbing over the loss of another beautiful girl, claimed by the hand of Death well before her time on Earth was over. They spoke like they knew her, like they understood her. It made me sick.
Mrs. Ruby was coming towards us, then, and Medda let me go as Ruby handed me a small book. Goblin Market and Other Poems by Christina Rossetti was printed on the front.
Tears trickled down my cheeks and a sob escaped my mouth. I covered my lips with my gloved hand before anymore traitorous sobs escaped. Miss Rossetti was her favorite poet. She'd given me her favorite poems.
"She wanted you to have them, Miss O'Rourke," Mrs. Ruby said gently. "I'm so sorry for your loss."
I stared down at the snow underneath me, wishing for Sean at that moment. I needed to cry. I wanted to cry.
"I just hope Mr. Blanchett doesn't suffer too much for this. Diana's death was so grisly. How would it look if high society knew that his ex-fiancé had committed such an atrocious suicide?" Mrs. Ruby continued.
Suicide. She said the 'S' word. In front of me. To me. Mother fuc-
"How can you even care about that bastard? He practically killed her! Him and that stupid mother of hers! As far as I'm concerned, you're no better. You all killed her! All of you!" I shrieked, anger coiling around the sadness. "How dare you make this her fault! How fucking dare you!"
An arm curled around my middle, tugging me from the white hot rage I was currently marinated in. I was trembling, glaring at her, blind to Sean as he murmured into my ear, trying to calm me down. Finally, his words broke through.
"Come on, Liss. It's time to go," he murmured gently. And then, just like an abandoned puppet, I slumped down inside myself, walking away quietly with him, his hand inside mine.
I said nothing when he asked if I wanted lunch. He took my silence as consent and we walked to Tibby's, though I sat beside him while he ate and stared hard into the wood of the table. If people spoke to me, I didn't know it. I just thought about the way the workers so carelessly threw dirt over my best friend's head, not caring that she probably needed to breathe in that stupid hole. And not to mention the fact that she was probably bored out of her mind. What the hell were you supposed to do in Heaven?
Deciding to be brave, I looked up slowly. The first people to find my eyes were Pip and Race. They weren't doing anything wrong, of course, just laughing and talking and every once and a while, Pip would lean against Race in a way that was not friendly at all, and they would share a secret smile. My heart constricted. Yes, Piper deserved happiness and so did Race. They were my friends. They deserved each other. But it was too soon for me to see. I didn't want to see that they were becoming close. Not when I knew Diana so achingly wanted to be with Racetrack.
I could feel myself trembling but I couldn't do a thing about it. I felt icy and warm at the same time and my toes tingled inside my boots. I felt like I was going to be sick. I stood up and shuffled outside and into the alley next to Tibby's, retching hard into a trash can I found there. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I slumped against the worn brick, wiping my mouth with my coat sleeve, sobbing softly.
I leaned into the warmth that surrounded me, leaning against his shoulder, not listening as he murmured Gaelic to me. I felt so wooden. It was incredibly frightening feeling nothing. Nothing inside. Nothing outside. Wooden.
"She's dead, Sean. She's not coming back," I whispered. I hated saying it out loud. Hearing it out loud made it real. I didn't want to be real.
"I know, baby. I know," he whispered. "It's all right. We'll be just fine. Me and you, Liss." He leaned back and smiled at me, wiping tears away with his gloved fingers. "Ya know Diana would be pissed if she saw ya blubberin' like this about her."
I cracked a smile but it hurt my face. I was suddenly aware of how cold it was outside.
"I want to go home," I whispered and Spot nodded, pulling me to my feet gently. We walked back into Tibby's together, Spot's hand firmly wrapped around mine.
"Sneak!" Spot barked. The little birdie jumped to attention, rushing double time to his leader. "Escort Angel back to Brooklyn. I'm staying here for a little bit longer. Make sure she gets to sleep."
Sneak nodded, understanding his orders thoroughly. Spot turned to me and kissed the apple of my cheek, but I didn't feel it. All I felt was a tingling sensation, not his mouth. It frightened me. What the hell was wrong with me?
"I'll be home soon. Please try to sleep, Lissa. I love you," he whispered against my ear and then I was gone, ambling beside Sneak as we made the trek back to Brooklyn.
I was so thankful Sneak didn't feel the need to talk to me. He walked purposefully beside me, not saying a word, not looking anywhere but in front of him. The Lodging House was empty, because the winter months meant average (at best) selling days, so most of the boys had to go out and sell the afternoon and sometimes the evening edition to make their normal daily wages.
I smiled half-heartedly at Sneak and then fell hard into my forgiving cot inside Spot's bedroom.
:-:-:-:-:-:
In my dreams, I saw her. She was lovely as ever. Her chocolate hair curled into shining ringlets and her eyes twinkling with that mischief that I sorely missed. She was dressed in white gossamer and though she said nothing her smile said it all:
Hello, Lissie. How are you? All is well. Do not weep. We shall be together again someday. I love you. Thank you for being my very best friend.
I woke up crying, because I knew. I knew that Diana was better off, wherever she was. Be it Heaven or Purgatory, she was safe. No longer bound for a loveless marriage, nor sold to the highest bidder because she was beautiful and in need of money for her family. She finally got what she wanted: freedom. And I couldn't punish myself for that.
Taking up the book of poetry I'd left on the nightstand on top of my music box, I flipped it opened to the dog-eared page she'd marked and read.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
I smiled at the page and then nodded. "I will smile, Diana. Thank you," I said, to no one in particular.
I looked up when Spot entered the room, looking startled for a moment that I was awake, then just smiled.
"Hello, Spot," I said softly.
"Hello, Angel," he returned and sat down at the edge of the bed, running a hand down my arm. "How're ya feelin'?"
I smiled. "Better," I said honestly.
Whether or not Diana actually came to me in a dream or not, I would be happy, because I knew she would've been mad if I did anything beside that. In some ways, I knew that the pain would never really go away. But day by day, it would get easier, the burden would be lighter, and I would feel less and less until I could look back on her life and smile, because she was alive, because she was beautiful, because she was my best friend.
And I was content with that. I really was.
I turned shining eyes to Spot, leaned in and kissed him with all I was. I didn't care about the way he tensed in surprise by my action, but I smiled at him when he pushed me back gently.
"What was that for?" he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. I do believe he was a bit flustered.
I shrugged. "I love you."
He grinned and I pulled him back for another kiss. Well, until the door was thrust open and in marched the gaggle of Brooklyn birds, plus Princess. Spot groaned loudly and pressed his face into my shoulder. I patted his head affectionately and smiled at the birds who clamored to the left side of the bed, all smiling at once.
"How are you feelin', Angel?" Mouse asked.
"I'm feeling lovely, thank you," I told him.
"So will ya tell us a story, Angel?" Avery asked.
Spot's head shot up and he turned around to glare at the birds, who all took a simultaneous step back. "Hell no. Not tonight. Angel's tired and she needs to sleep."
"Please?" Princess pleaded. "Just one little story, Spot."
"Please?" they all chorused, giving Spot there most convincing newspaper-selling faces. Spot growled and ran a hand over his face, which made me smile.
"Fine," Spot groused. "One story. Then ya all leave Angel alone. Period."
They all cheered and then clamored onto the cot at once to get a good spot for the story. I grabbed his sleeve before he could get up, smiling at him when he turned guilty eyes to me.
"Ya too damn soft, Conlon," I teased him, throwing the same words he'd thrown me a few days ago. He smiled lazily at me and then ruffled my hair, which was probably all ready completely messed up from sleeping. I glared at the back of him as he left the room, and then turned my attention to my wide-eyed audience of Brooklyn birds.
This chapter is dedicated to my best friend Matthew Albert Harris. Three years ago today, he took his own life because his father couldn't accept the fact that he was gay. He'd be pissed that I put him in my stories as Silver. He'd be really angry. But maybe he wouldn't. We both had a thing for Gabe.
On a lighter note, I'm glad you guys like my scribblings. I try really hard to write well. :) Keep in mind my casting call that's coming up. Start thinking about your character, because I want it! Teehee.
CTB!
xx Wicked