Chapter 51

I spent most of the funeral with Becky. I met her at the hotel, with Saphrin, giving Saphrin a long hug and apologizing for everything. "I'm so sorry…" I kept saying to her, and she kept crying and telling me it was okay. Becky was very quiet, humble, stricken by her own grief and at the same time suffering mine. She felt bad, and it made me feel worse, like it was my fault.

There wasn't really a great funeral ceremony, just a few people gathered around, some of Amber's friends talking about her. I was probably the one person who should have said something but I couldn't bring myself to do it. It upset me greatly when I saw the coffin, closed forever, shut, suspended above a perfect cut rectangular hole. It wasn't raining or anything, but the skies overhead were gray. Stereotypical funeral weather…and it was cold. Everyone who was there bore heavy coats, and we stuck out in black from the white snow that covered most of the other land. It had fallen overnight, about three inches, and from the look of things it seemed that it would snow again.

I just held my head, my hair down and gelled so that it wouldn't poof out. It hung in front of my face, a veil, a shield. I covered my eyes with the fan of my hand, hiding my tears, listening to the drone of soft voices, a hum, buzzing in my ears.

About fifteen people were there. I didn't take time to count but looking back on it, that's my guess. Me, Mark, Saphrin, Raven, Evan, Becky, Glenn, Mike, a couple of Amber's close friends, and then the crew from the cemetery, ones who would bury them. We were very lucky to have a mild winter, in my mind. There hadn't been a whole lot of snow and it was fairly warm for winter…all I mean to get at was that the ground wasn't frozen…

For people reading my lovely narrative…in certain climates, in places where there are in-ground cemeteries…during the winter, if the ground is frozen, a person cannot be buried. For that reason, often in cemeteries there will be a large shed where they can keep bodies until the ground thaws…incredibly macabre, isn't it? I'd never thought about it until that time in my life. I knew the deal, of course. Why shouldn't I? I grew up in a funeral parlor. These are the kinds of things that I know. But what I'm saying is that…I never took the time to consider that. How completely horrible it would be if you're wife or child…or both in my case, were killed, and you had to wait three months with them in some shed for a burial. It's fucked up.

Usually at burials, the diggers wait for everyone to leave before they do their job. After we stood there for a while, tossing flowers onto the casket and around the hole, no words spoken, most people just kind of left. Not abruptly, like they were putting a black and white line on when it was over, but kind of meandering away. In truth I was the first person to do it. After a while, after a couple of her friends had addressed the group with reminiscing, I turned and walked away, deeper into the cemetery, up a hill. My back was to everything, I didn't want to see it. I sighed heavily, feeling my stomach turn, my heart ache. It was some horrible nightmare. I wanted to wake up already.

I felt Becky's hand slip into mine and felt a kind of peace. She put her hands on my arm, without words, leaning her head against me. I pulled her into a hug and felt her crying, felt the heave of her body though I couldn't hear her. I didn't cry. I don't know why…it came and went. At that point I just didn't.

We held each other there for an unknown amount of time. All that I knew was that I was holding Becky and I was at my family's funeral. That I would never see Amber again. That I would never be able to kiss my wife. I would never play with my daughter. I would never know my son.

Becky urged me away, bringing me back to the car. As we were passing the gravesite I stopped. They had begun to lower the coffin, slowly, and I could only see the top, the tapered lid. I bit my lower lip, sharply, tasting blood a moment later as the coffin exited my vision. I stood still, unwavering to Becky as I watched the dirt fall upon them, making known the individual grains, sparkling, floating as they landed. I clenched my fists, felt all my muscles tighten, fighting myself. I made some small protesting sound, hearing myself but not doing it on purpose. I felt like running there, pulling them out of the hole and discarding the horrible box. But I held back, knowing that it wouldn't bring them back.

A sufficient amount of horror came over me as I watched the dirt being poured over them. It made the hair on my arms stand up, a chill run through me. I realized that at the funeral, in the morgue, I could see them. I could physically see them in front of me and touch them and at least have them there…it was a strange thing. Because now they were being detached from me. And that scared me. A lot.

I had to, or at least try to, learn to accept that. It's called reality. My family was dead, and I wasn't. I tried to deal with it, tried to rationalize. People die every day, and their survivors learn to deal with that. Why was I so different? Why should I be exempt from the rest of the world? Or actually…why should all of them be exempt from sorrow? I was confusing myself. I didn't know what the fuck I was supposed to do. To me, there were three options:

1) Move on. Take a few weeks off from wrestling and get better, then not let it consume me. People did that all the time. If the death of a relative or a friend was unbearable, then death would be contagious, and the world would cease to exist. One person would die, and then their survived would kill themselves, then those people's friends would kill themselves over the misery…it could just go on and on. And since that doesn't happen, it means that people get over it. Hell some people even have second spouses. I highly doubted, though, that I'd ever remarry, even if I would get over her. She was my one and only.

2) Live my life mourning for her. Not misery, necessarily, just mourning. Dedicate the rest of my life to worshipping her and missing her and loving her forever. I wouldn't always be miserable, I guess. Eventually the shock could wear off and I would feel better about it. I would just be loyal to her.  I wouldn't remarry, wouldn't look at another woman…and suppose there existed a Heaven, though I doubted it at that point, but suppose there was, and suppose I was to go there and meet Amber. If I were to find a new love, a woman who loved me as much as I loved Amber, what would happen then to the three of us? Religion was dead to me so I had no thoughts to ask a priest or someone who could answer these questions for me, I didn't care enough to find out. And it was only a slight possibility anyway…by worshipping Amber and keeping her sacred, it would make this problem nonexistent.

And then my third option…I pushed my hair out of my face. It seemed like the burial was taking years. It almost reminded me of a movie, something that Amber would need a box of tissues and her husband to watch, where she would cling to me and sob as some tragic concerto played over the scene, a terrible bittersweet legato cacophony, the music so pretty and liquid, yet sporting such a horrible message. I covered my eyes and closed them, breathing slowly. My third option, in my own logic, would be…to join them. And how terrible that was, contagious death. It was all in my hands, I suppose, my choice of when and how and if I should do it. It seemed to me that this was the only control I had anymore. My decision, my life, my hands. But that would take a lot of consideration. If it were just up to me I would've done it right then and there and been buried at that moment with them, with thoughts of no one else except for myself. But pensively I realized how cruel it would be to Mark, Saphrin, Raven…three of a list who were devastated already.

My heart started to pound as I remembered that I had fans. I shuddered, thinking of my fans, realizing how there were kids and people all over the country who loved Amber, not just me. And that at the same time there were people who liked me. Girls who would probably drool over me, kids who wanted to be me. It made me sick to think of, like there was too much weight upon me, from people I hadn't thought of since all of this had happened. But it was true as I thought of it now, that my life was kind of in a glass house. And it would hurt a lot of people if I were to be gone.

I'd attempted suicide five times as a teenager, twice during my twenties. But ever since Mark and I had reconciled and I'd gotten a job with the WWF I'd been, overall, very happy with the way things were going. The thought of suicide hadn't crossed my mind at all except in the form of memories, memories which I kept concealed from Amber. It wasn't really something I distrusted her with or something I wanted to lie to her about, just something that I hated to bring up. She didn't need to know, I didn't need to upset myself over it, and it had nothing to do with the two of us as a couple. Just every once in a while I would be reminded by a book or a movie or a nightmare. Firework flashes of memories; blood and blades and pills and hospitals. Of doctors, doctors who didn't know what they were doing and that I hadn't thought of in years until the funeral.

Back then I don't think that anyone would have missed me. Paul wouldn't have cared at all, Mar…I don't know. I hadn't been talking to him then. But I imagine that it bothered him. I don't know why it wouldn't.

"Let's get out of here…" I was shaken from my thoughts by Becky's voice, and adrenaline pulsed in a little jolt as it happened. She pulled me away and I followed, trudging down to the parking lot, turning my back on the grave. It burned into my back, and burned my eyes. I forced myself away. Becky had rented a car there, and had driven us to the funeral, so walked me to it, unlocking it and having us both settle inside. She sighed heavily and leaned back in the seat. I was looking down at nothing, my gaze resting on the consol of the car but not on purpose. Becky didn't start the car right away and I realized that she was looking at me. I turned to her. Over her shoulder in the distance I saw the diggers still. I shuddered and shifted my vision so that I looked into her eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked me. I wiped my eyes with my hand and nodded. Her forehead creased. "You sure?"

I gave her a dark, sarcastic half-grin. "For someone who just watched their family being buried…yeah I'm okay." She smiled weakly.

"Right…" I heard the jingling of keys as she turned them in the ignition. Her CD player resumed play and sounds of cellos filled my ears, soft percussion, Melora's beautiful voice. I closed my fist tightly, gasping a bit, shocked initially for a moment as the music struck. I closed my eyes as she pulled out of the cemetery, somewhere on the road outside to ask me where I wanted to go, to which I absently replied: home. She nodded her head and we drove in slice, lost in music.

Amber had liked Rasputina. She would listen to them sometimes when she was tired, after a long match she would bring a stereo into the bathroom with her and listen to them to take a bath. And she liked to listen to them when it was raining and she would just sit in the house in Vermont on the carpet next to the window, staring at the rain. Christ…I missed her. I held back my tears as we drove.

Some time had passed, four songs maybe, and she parked on the sidewalk next to my building, turning to look at me. Her eyes said what she didn't, silently begging me not to leave her alone. I unbuckled the seatbelt. "Do you want to come up?" I asked. She nodded and gave a tight smile. The two of us got out of the car and entered the building, walking up the stairs. I let us into the apartment.

She stepped in slowly, like the walls themselves would crumble, like the place was something sacred that she was afraid to desecrate. I closed the door behind us and led her into the living room, gesturing for her to sit down on the couch. I looked out the window, glancing to see snow falling again, the sky slightly dark. I shivered, fighting the tears, swallowing the lump in my throat as I turned to Becky. She looked uncomfortable…not physically but like she was upset to be there. A wave of paranoia crossed my mind that she was afraid of me, but I shook it off, knowing that she wasn't.

"Are you okay? Do you need anything?" I asked her. She shook her head. "Be honest, I'm just trying to be a good host. You aren't making me go out of my way or anything…"

Becky's mouth pulled into a frown quickly and then went back to placid, as if she were struggling to not cry and lost herself for a moment. "I'm kinda cold…" she said softly. I nodded and approached the fireplace, struck by memories and shoving them out of the way as I lit a fire, leaning back on my heels and staring at the dancing flames.

I longed to join them.

With my back to her I spoke. I didn't know why I was telling her what I did, maybe just because I couldn't deny any longer that I needed someone to talk to, and she was here for me and I was ready to take advantage of that. I choked on my words, staring into the orange and yellow, entranced. "I feel bad for them…" I said. She made some small sound of understanding, and nothing more, like she was expecting me to continue, which I was. I sighed. "Sometimes…when kids go to new places for the first time, they get scared. Like when a kid moves, and they're afraid of their new room and all the new shadows, or when they sleep over at one of their friends houses for the first time…in my life I've never really felt this but I understand. I've read it in books and seen in movies and I'm compassionate enough to imagine what it's like for a child. Things are always like that, though, you know? It's incredible how uncomfortable something can be when you aren't used to it, as an adult when you get a new car and don't want to part with your old one, when you buy new furniture…it just isn't the same and it can take a while to get used to. Unless, of course, you want the change. Like you could buy a new couch because you want one or you could just buy it because your old one was destroyed. Either way, it's uncomfortable and unnatural. Claudette was never old enough to know this, and I've spent nights awake before thinking about her future. I always wondered…" I paused because I was choking on the words, strangled. I breathed deeply for a moment. "I always wondered what she would be like as a teenager, imagined what her life would be like, how she would be treated in school, how she would think of having retired wrestlers as parents. And I wondered what kind of young woman she would develop into, if she would be happy…I wondered if she would be some bitter kid that hated her parents, and hoped that she wouldn't because I wouldn't be able to take it, but at the same time couldn't possibly imagine that happening. Amber is –was- too beautiful a person to have anyone ever hate her. She was too…perfect for that. And she loved Claudette so much…she would've made the best mother in the world when Claudette was older. Because Amber's mother died, and she never had a mom to show her girly things, and I knew that she would've been so good to our daughter. And…I would've, too…my parents died when I was so young…and Paul wasn't exactly a father figure…I would never do anything so cruel to a person as he did to me, and Claudette…I would worship her. I would treat her like a princess, as we did already. I'm not afraid to admit that we spoiled her, because I don't care that we spoiled her. She was too young to let it get to her head, and I loved her completely too much to deny her of anything. She was my daughter, a creation of mine. And then comes…our son. A son who I didn't get to have or even know about until it was too late. One that was never given a chance to be born and be loved. There is no pain greater than this that I've ever felt…and I don't know if I can handle it…"

I stopped again, my sight blurring, fixing onto the flames and they hugged the wood in the hearth. The wood popped, crackled, the heat came against me in waves. I closed my eyes, still seeing the light, the brightness in my mind, being too experienced with fire to not see it. "I told Amber once this philosophy I had…about fire…I wonder now if it's true, that this demon could give everything back to me that it stole. I wonder if for some reason it could raise sparks in the air to form the shapes of their bodies, come together and purge the filth of all of this, reform two beauties. They…they didn't deserve this. I would be burned all over again, relive the torture I went through as a kid…I would do it all over again if it meant that they would be saved. No one deserves what happened to them, no one deserves to be killed for no reason," I started to cry. "Why would anyone hate her that much? Amber was the nicest person…" I fell back and drew my knees up, covering my face with my hands as I wept. "She didn't deserve this! And what the fuck did Claudette do!?! She was only two years old! What great evil could she have done for this!?!? Or…was it me? Is this some type of karma for me? Did I do something to deserve this? And why did they have to pay for it? Why couldn't the bastard have just killed me instead? I wish I was dead now!"

Becky rose and came around the coffee table to sit down on the floor next to me. She put her arms around me, just holding me there. She was the same size as Amber…it was almost as if I could try to pretend…

But I couldn't. It wasn't the same. I knew it wasn't the same and nothing would make it the way it had been. All that was over. But perhaps…perhaps finally I was learning to deal with it. I hugged Becky back and cried. "And I just think about how uncomfortable things are…I'm so scared that they don't like where they are now. I'm so scared of Amber being afraid, that she's somehow in her body and afraid of being enclosed in a box, buried. She never told me what she wanted done with herself. Maybe it was wrong to bury her…maybe I should've scattered her ashes. The thing is that I don't know! And even if it was…how could someone destroy something so beautiful?"

She rubbed my shoulders and ran her hands over my hair, trying to comfort me. I calmed, opened my eyes to look up at her, mirrored misery staring back at me. We were equal, we were one, hearts beating together, lost in each other. The tears stopped flowing from both of us and I sat up, still on the floor. Her hand rested on my thigh. I pushed her hair out of her face slowly and leaned in, not thinking twice as I kissed her. It lasted only for a moment before I felt her hands on my chest, softly pushing me away. I pulled away from her, seeing her looking horrified as one of her small hands reached up and touched her bottom lip. I could taste her, and wanted her. She had a bit of fear into her eyes, and for some reason at the moment it didn't mean anything to me. Maybe because I was stressed out, maybe because funerals seem to make people want to have sex and after the day's events, that's what I needed. Maybe just because I wished she was Amber. Either way, I was gentle when I spoke to her.

"Becky I'm not going to hurt you," I said softly, and stroked her cheek with my knuckles. "Trust me," I said to her, and went to kiss her again. I saw a transition in her face as it happened, almost like a twitch, and she didn't resist, putting her hand around the back of my neck and kissing me back. For a few minutes we did this until we got to more serious things. As corny and cliché as it was, it was by the fire, and warm. And afterward I was exhausted, and she fell asleep. I just stared at the flames, not realizing the full extent of what I did until Amber told me.