FOUR
Corrie came home at about six in the evening. She had been gone for several hours into the vast black hole of what was once known as the town. Rain continued to bathe the landscape and the clouds were thick above, making sunlight impossible. I had been staring at my refridgerator, deep in thought, when the noise of my front door distracted me. At first I thought I was being robbed, but then it occured to me that it was most likely my niece. She didn't say anything when she walked in, and I called out to her, "Hi!"
I didn't get a response. She just walked into the guest room and closed the door behind her. I exhaled heavily, recalling the days where I had been a difficult teenager.
"You might want to start getting ready for the funeral," I threw my comment out into the wind, to be accepted or rejected by the stubborn ears of my niece. "Lay your clothes out, take a nap. You're going to need to be ready by about eleven so we can get there early."
There was no sign that she had heard me. Her voice didn't mumble a response and there was no movement in the guest room that my ears could detect. In my frustration I rested my head on the table-top and closed my eyes. With each passing moment Corrie reminded me more and more of her mother. She always was an ignorant creep. For most of our lives I despised her for that. In fact, it wasn't until she had moved to the city where I could no longer see her daily that we began to act like sisters. Abense makes the heart grow fonder, I suppose. Without our frequent bickering the house felt dormant. Although mother and father were in the other room, there was no one I could bully or steal lip gloss from. I realised through this loneliness that I really cared about Celeste.
And so I began to ring her, and we'd stay on the phone for hours each night discussing what was going on in our lives and how the other should properly address their problems. We became best friends because we both missed being enemies. I would always tell her that I thought the way she left was unfair, and she would agree but say that there was nothing anyone could do, she would not come home.
She did come home eventually, but within the confinements of a wooden coffin.
What hurts me the most is that I never saw her death coming. It was as though one day she was living her life with a smile on her face and the next... She loved life in the city from what I could tell. Her job was stable with good pay, she had a cute little apartment near the ocean and a decent guy for most of the years as well as Corrie. Everything was going great for her, or so she let on.
That's the thing with Celeste; you never know quite what she's feeling or what's going on through her head. Years of abandonment and social belittlement had made her withdrawn and suspicious. I never knew what it was she did for a living, or who her boyfriend was. She told me almost nothing about Corrie. I knew nothing about my sister and yet I consider myself the best friend she ever had. It wasn't outside of her personality to behave in mysterious and unusual ways.
I suppose that's why, when I found out she was dead, I wasn't surprised.
