My dress was a harsh black, spilling down my legs and ending abruptly at my knees. My shoes were black, too. Polished and so shiny that I could almost see my reflection in them. The air smelled like flowers and fresh cut grass. It smelled clean as if it had just rained. I stared down at my shoes and tried to drown out the Rabbi's voice as he spoke about what a great person Tristan was. As if he knew.
My mom had said that going to the service would make me feel better and I could stop moping around my room as I had been since the day we got home from Rhode Island.
I didn't feel better, though. This service only made me want to scream.
Half these people didn't even know him. None of them understood the way his hands felt or the way his smile could light up the world, brighter even then the sun.
Beside me, Anna sobbed quietly into Ethan’s shoulder. He sat their solemnly, biting his lip. Kevin was sitting with Tristan’s parents. I figured it was better this way, although I wouldn't admit it. Kevin and I hadn't spoken since we got back. I knew it pained him to see me. I could barely stand to look at me after everything.
It was all my fault.
~~~
I'd never been inside Tristan's house before, although I'd seen it from the outside occasionally when Kevin and I had picked him up.
I was surprised at the normality of it. I'd half expected it to be black inside, in mourning of their son. In the entrance hall was a staircase leading upstairs, beyond that was a kitchen and to the right was the living room. People dressed in black were huddled in groups of two or three, murmuring in low whispers, waiting for their turn to talk to the family.
On the dining room table was piles and piles of food. Casseroles, pies, pastas, there was even a roast chicken. The smell wafted into the living room in waves, first a blueberry pie, then a lasagna smell. Underneath the smell of food I recognized another scent. It was Tristan. Naturally, it wasn’t surprising that his house smelled like him yet it caught me off guard. It was an indescribable, delicious scent, a smell I'd thought I would never smell again. I hadn’t realized how much I'd missed it until it was gone.
Standing there, in the middle of the living room, I broke down completely. My breath hitched, my eyes burned with searing hot tears. He was absolutely gone forever, nothing in the world will ever change that.
Around me, the room remained silent, only soft whispers and the gentle hum of a fan in the corner made sound. I collected myself, thinking no one had seen me lose it until I caught Kevin’s eye from across the room.
He looked different, wearied out. Deep purple bags floated underneath his blood shot eyes; further proof of what I'd done. He was standing with his parents who were murmuring something to each other and glancing over to Tristan's parents. It dawned on me what it was like for them. They'd been friends with Tristan’s parents for as long as the boys had been friends. How do you apologize to your friend for taking their son and then not bringing him back? By bringing him on vacation, they were promising his safety. What happens when that promise is broken? How do you make up for something like that?
But what Tristan’s parents didn't know was that it wasn't the Mahoney’s fault at all, they couldn't have prevented what happened. Their only mistake was bringing me along. I had single-handedly managed to cause so many people irreversible pain. Not only myself.
As this sunk deeper I started to lose myself again, I felt physically weighed down. I couldn't stay in this room. Not where Kevin’s parents remained guilty for what I did, where Tristan’s parents had to suffer because of my mistake.
I couldn't leave so I went into the hall, looking for a place where I could be alone. Finally I went upstairs and pushed open the first door. It was Tristan’s room. Once again, I was shocked at what I saw. I didn't excepted the room to be so... lived in, as if Tristan were going to come back tonight and go to sleep as he would every other day.
It was rather small. Basketball posters littered the wall. On his desk was his school binders; he hadn't gotten around to throwing out old papers. His bed was unmade; it was covered with old clothes he had probably discarded while packing for the trip.
I hadn't realized I'd been shaking, my knees knocking together so hard it became difficult to stand. This room made him seem so alive but he wasn't. He'd never come back to put his clothes away, clean out his binders. He'd never come back to talk to me, to hold me, to kiss me.
He'd never come back again.
It was too much. I collapsed onto his bed, tucking my knees under my chin, rocking back and forth in a fit of sobs. The tears rolled in streams down my cheeks. Pouring down my neck onto my jet black dress.
I buried my face into my hands. They filled with my salty tears, little tiny oceans.
I was crying so loudly I didn't even hear the door open.
"What are you doing?" The voice, a male voice, broke through my sobs harshly. For one split second I thought it was Tristan, a stupid yet hopeful thought. I imagined him coming in to laugh at me for being so silly, he was right here. I looked up to see Kevin standing in the doorway, looking like a wearied old man. The sight of him only made me want to cry harder but I bit my lip.
He looked angry as of he knew this was all my fault. He had plenty to be mad at me about. But at the sight of my face the lines of his softened to pity.
"I'm sorry," he said, coming in a melting onto the other end of the bed, "You're probably hurting, too."
Now he was apologizing to me? I should be the one begging for forgiveness, not that I would, I didn't deserve forgiveness.
"Don't be sorry," I told him honestly. I sounded miserable and shaky. "You should be the one being consoled," I lowered my voice to a whisper because I couldn't even bear what I was saying, "he was your best friend and now he's... gone."
He didn't answer, just stared past me. His deep brown eyes empty. Neither of us spoke, I noticed his hand trembling slightly where it rested on his knee.
Without taking his eyes off the wall he spoke again. "Did you love him?"
I was surprised at this. Surprised he would want to bring that up after all that happened.
When I didn’t answer he turned to me, locking his eyes onto mine. "Did you love him? Or did you just not love me?" I felt as if I'd been slapped, was this what he thought? That I had simply hated him so much I decided to cheat on him.
"No!" I practically choked on my own words, "it's not because of that. I did love you."
He waited patiently for me to continue. I looked down at the ruffled blue sheets, playing with them in between my fingers. "I loved him, too."
He nodded as if he'd been expecting this. "I just wish it could have happened differently," he said, rising from the bed.
"Me, too," I whispered.
He started to leave but turned around in the doorway. "I guess I'll see you at school."
I nodded, tears were rolling down my cheeks again. "I'm sorry," I whispered again, but he was already gone.
) I liked the beginning paragraph the most. 
