Under the Influence

Six: Sentimental Value

"You were right," a weak voice whispered. Kevin studied Lucy's reflection in the bathroom mirror as he set the down the bottle of hair gel that he held in his hand. She had come up behind him to stand in the doorway with her arms folded protectively against her chest. Wet tear streaks that ran the complete length of her face were reflected in the fluorescent light.

Kevin watched his wife as she continued. "I was doing anything and everything in my power to not think about Ruthie. And as long as I wasn't thinking about her, it felt like everything was normal…or kind of like she never existed."

"Oh, Luce. I'm so sorry," Kevin said, turning to gather Lucy in his strong arms.

Lucy allowed herself to be held. "I just couldn't begin to think about how she died. I still can't imagine life without her."

Kevin rubbed her back. "It's going to be okay, Lucy. I promise you. We're all here for you. We'll get through this together."

"But what if we won't?" she asked, looking into Kevin's eyes. "Every second of the day, I keep asking myself over and over again, 'what if I had been there for her more?' and, 'what if I had let her in on my life a little more – what if I had talked to her about more things?'"

Kevin stepped back, taking hold of Lucy's arms and squeezed them. "Lucy, understand that this is not your fault. It's no one's fault. There was nothing you could have done to prevent this from happening. Ruthie chose her own actions. You didn't choose them for her." He expected Lucy to say something – anything – but she didn't. When he searched her eyes, there was nothing. "I know on some level you know that," he added quietly.

Lucy shook her head, hanging it in sadness. Tears dropped from her eyes onto the floor. She tried to swallow the sobs that were forming in her throat, but they escaped anyway. Slowly, Lucy slid to the ground, feeling like there was no reason for her to be happy again. Kevin went down with her, refusing to let her go.

"Baby, I love you. It's not your fault," Kevin repeated, he himself feeling close to tears. "Say it. Say, 'it's not my fault'"

"I can't," she faltered, her crying becoming more intense.

"Lucy, please," he begged. "Say it for me?"

She looked up at him, instantly becoming eerily quiet. Her eyes were searching him, looking for anything she could translate as being a lie, but he was clean. Everything he said was in her best interest and she knew it.

Sighing shakily, Lucy began uneasily, "It's…not my fault."

Kevin smiled a little. "Again. Say it until you believe it."

"It's not my fault."

Clink.

Kendall's glowing golden halo hit the floor with a soft, high-pitched sound. She stared at it while Kendall hadn't seemed to notice it was missing. He was busy scanning multiple papers in a manila folder that he had pulled out of thin air with a very professional expression gracing his pale face. Ruthie felt as if she was in a job interview and whether or not she got the position would be decided right then.

"Ahem," Ruthie cleared her throat to catch his attention. Kendall, startled by the sudden noise, jumped and sent the papers of the file flying everywhere.

"Oh, shoot," he exclaimed. "What?"

Ruthie suppressed a giggle. "Sorry," she apologized. "I was just going to tell you that your headband fell off."

"It's a halo," he said corrected her, sounding irritated, "And it's always falling off."

"Are they supposed to do that?" she asked. "You know, fall off?"

Kendall shrugged and kneeled down to pick up the scattered documents. "Occasionally. When they get old, it's really time to replace them. The Big Guy special ordered one for me…it just hasn't come in yet."

"The 'Big Guy'?" she asked.

"Yeah…you know." He got to his feet and smiled at her. "God."

"Oh," she sighed. "What is that anyway?" She nodded to the file that he gripped tightly with both hands.

"It's your entire life. Everything you've ever said, everything you've ever done, every thought. It's all right here." He tapped it lightly with his fingertips.

Her jaw dropped. "How can all of that possibly fit into one folder?"

As Kendall immediately began to reorganize the pages, he replied distractedly, "God works in mysterious ways."

Ruthie was reminded of her father with those simple words. He had always told them that anything was possible with God, had even used that exact sentence. If she hadn't known any better, she would have thought Kendall was mimicking him.

Kendall raised an eyebrow as he looked up at her over the folder, "If only your father knew what you were thinking during his sermons."

Ruthie shrugged and smiled menacingly. "What can I say? I wasn't perfect," she replied, unknowingly referring to herself in the past tense for the first time.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head at her. "No. I'd say you were downright naughty."

She laughed, giving Kendall a wink. "Only sometimes."

It was late at night, long after Kendall had left her alone to her thoughts and to her family who didn't even know that she was still there. To the extent of their knowledge, she was in her grave, slowly decaying with each passing day, if they wished to think that way. Although, that was highly unlikely, as she knew each of them thought she was resting peacefully along side God. The house was silent – all but one living person were asleep.

Ruthie stood in Simon's doorway, watching him lay awake in his bed with a familiar article of clothing clutched tightly to his chest. It was the T-shirt she had been wearing the day of the accident. She wondered how he came across it, thinking for sure it had gotten thrown away at the hospital. Why did he want to keep it? She was certain that it smelled like booze, cigarette smoke, and blood – nothing like her.

She stepped further into the room until she was standing at Simon's bedside. Over the past few days, she had been listening to him and Eric fight and it was painful to have to know that she caused all of this. How could she have been so selfish? All of her actions were meant to benefit no one but herself. The only thing she could think about was changing her image, but that didn't work out, needless to say.

Simon tightened his grip on the fabric as Ruthie noticed the gathering tears in his eyes. The last time she had seen her brother this upset was the summer of the Accident. No Camden member had ever gone through that tough a time, and it killed Ruthie to see Simon like that. She wished it had been she who killed Paul Smith just so she wouldn't have to see Simon in that much emotional pain. Everyone had changed that summer.

This time was different. She couldn't go through this pain for Simon because she was the one whom he was grieving. A kind of chill ran throughout her body as his clouded eyes drifted unknowingly over her grim face. He turned onto his side, pulling the shirt up by his face.

Ruthie climbed onto the bed, occupying the open space next to her brother and laid on her side so they were face-to-face. She watched him close his red, puffy eyes and waited until his breathing slowed.

"I'm so sorry, Simon," she whispered, wanting desperately to reach out and touch his face, to feel the warmth of his skin; though she knew she would come into contact with nothing but the open air.

Everyone in the family had someone, a special someone, to give extra support. Annie had Eric, Matt had Sarah, Mary had Carlos, Lucy had Kevin, and the boys had each other. But Simon had no one. Now that she was gone, he was alone. She wished he knew that she was here, actually lying right beside him. She wanted him to know that she would never truly leave him. Death wouldn't stand in her way.

"I love you."