-1A neighbors dog barked through the fence, somewhere two kids laughed and yelled at one another, the hammock made a soft scrapping noise as it swayed to and fro, scratching against the porch railing. Some familiar everyday noises. It could have been any day. It wasn't just any day though. It was the day after. It was what would have been her wedding day.
I would have been your wife by now if you had just had the sense to stay alive. I wouldn't be forced to deal with your estate. Estate. I had thought it was just a generic term for a person's belongings after they died. At least that is what I thought in your case. How could you keep it from me Denny? How could you keep something like that from me?
The keys were where they always were. In the old urn painted to look like a light house that sat rusting next to the hammock. Heart beating wildly, she unlocked the door. As expected, the house was silent. Tears blurred her vision as she spotted a string of ribbons on the finial at the end of the banister. She walks toward the stairs, then tangles her fingers in the ribbons. Paper flowers hung from the end of each one. Meredith had made it for her. A bouquet of sorts for the rehearsal dinner. Four nights ago. She had hung them there herself, laughing at the silly girly touch in the bachelor pad. A hint for George and Preston. One they wouldn't get. She was a bit surprised the ribbons were still there.
Sighing, she looks in the direction of Denny's room. It wasn't intended to be a bedroom. Just off the living room, two sliding doors separating it, most likely the builder had envisioned a den of sorts. Extra space for entertaining. Crossing her arms, she pauses outside the doors. They were closed. Had they been closed the day she had said goodbye? She couldn't remember. Not that it mattered. Preston or George had most likely slid them closed.
She took a deep breath, reaching for the little indentations that served as handles. "You can do this," she whispers. Letting the breath out slowly she slides the door open. The room smelled of his cologne. Everywhere she looked were reminders of him, of his life. The framed photos on the wall from his various fishing trips. Ratty running shoes kicked carelessly to the side after a long jog. A suitcase packed in anticipation of their honeymoon. Fighting the urge to cry, she crosses her arms again. Self comfort. She had no idea where to start. What was she suppose to do with his belongings?
A groan from the bed had her gasping, a hand flying to her racing heart. The maroon and cream striped comforter moves. A tan back with an eagle tattoo on the right shoulder blade comes into view, as does the waist band of navy blue boxers. Her eyes narrow. "What the hell are you doing here?" She hisses.
One hazel eye peers at her from under the pillow. "I was sleeping," Alex mumbled. The pillow fell to the floor as he sat up. Muscles rippled as he stretched his arms over his head.
"Yeah. I can see that. What are you doing here though? In Denny's bed. You have no right to be here. None!" Hysteria threatened to consume her. This was Denny's room. His bed. She needed it to stay that way. She needed to picture him lying next to her, not his arrogant ass of a friend catching a few winks between one night stands. "Just…get out! Get out now!"
"Alright. Fine. I'm going." The comfort as thrown back, landing in a heap on the floor. His long body slides off the mattress, dragging the corner of the sheet with him.
"Shouldn't you go back to Los Angles? I'm sure there are plenty of funerals to crash and caterers to screw." The blow was low. At this point she didn't care. She wanted him gone. Needed him gone. Looking at him made her sick. It wasn't fair. Denny was gone. Denny, a loving, kind man who thought more of others was gone. Dead. While as selfish ass like Alex Karev was alive. Alive and making everyone around him miserable.
"I decided not to take the film. Once you've done one you've done them all." The muscles of his back ripple as he tugs a pair of faded and ripped jeans on. Not bothering to button them, he reaches for a black t shirt. His head disappeared as he pulled the shirt on.
"Oh, so you look at work the way you do women." Another low blow. Another moment of disgust that he was here and Denny was gone. Unable to stand the site on him in a room that should been a place of solace for her, she grabs his arm. The skin was warm, soft. A tingle of sort runs up her arm. She lets his arm drop as quickly as she had touched it.
"You're funny," He tweaked her cheek in passing as he wonders from the room. She raises a hand to wipe his touch from her face. Her blood boils as he toys with the ribbons on the finial.
"Stop touching everything." Stepping between him and the ribbons, her arms cross over her chest once more. Denny's house. Denny's room. Denny's bed. He had ruined it all for her. Had ruined the sense of peace she had hoped to find.
"Kinda hard to not touch," Alex teased, tweaking her cheek once more. There was a sparkle in his eyes, a hint of a grin on his face. Bastard. He had the audacity to smile and crack jokes. As though they hadn't just held a memorial in Denny's honor. As though everything was okay. Nothing was okay.
"Why did you even come? You don't even act like you miss him." Grabbing the ribbons from the end of the stair case, she practically runs from the house. Later. She would come back later. To discuss the account. With George and Preston. Denny's real friends. Friends who didn't make a mockery of his death and memory.
He wasn't really your friend was he? You didn't actually respect him did you? If so, I don't understand why.
