Young Writers Society

Second Always Comes Last:

Family Matters

Chapter 42

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“I’d just have never taken him of all people to be suicidal.”

I stirred, nodding. I had been stirring for the past while. A while past the drink going cold. I hadn’t touched a sip. Ordered the most expensive coffee on the menu. I didn’t drink coffee. Juliet’s words did sound familiar. Familiar thoughts. Thoughts from so long ago.

“Why not?”

Juliet glared at my mug, frowning, but didn’t mention it. Instead she tilted her head to the side and looked at me sincerely.

“He loved history. Of course he did. That’s why he became a history teacher- he was obsessed in it. That’s how I met him actually.” She smiled to herself, deciding to pour out on me her life story.

“He was a student teacher and I was in high school. Yes, sounds slightly scandalous, but we didn’t get together until my final year. By then the seven year gap didn’t seem so big.”

I refrained from rolling my eyes. I had no interest in her ventures with her ‘Romeo’. I didn’t see Sir that way. I didn’t want to see Sir that way.

“It wasn’t until we moved in together that I learned about his biggest... secrets? Flaws? I don’t know how to put it. But most of it was driven by his irrational fear.”

“Fear?” I questioned, prompting her with my interest. I saw her grip tighten on her tea cup. Emotions. She had handled herself surprisingly well up until now, and for that I saluted her. She seemed reasonably open to talk about it. I don’t know what I would have done if I had gotten a wailing widow.

“Death. He was terrified of death. Not in the general way either. Many people fear death, but not like him. Not like him.” She sighed.

“Every few nights, perhaps once a week or more, he would have a breakdown. He would completely break down, curl up, become unmovable. He would be in tears. All because he was thinking so hard about death and what it meant. He confided in me a few times. Normally he would talk about different things. Sometimes he would claim to be so small and useless. Doubt his existence. Other times he would go into a frenzy, claiming he was big, the biggest thing there was in his life and he had to make a point of it. But most of the time he would fear being forgotten. He loved history, and he wanted to be a part of it. Just he couldn’t believe he ever could.

He wouldn’t- couldn’t possibly be able to kill himself. He valued life too much. He valued the one life he had but spent his time worrying about wasting it. He would get hyped up over historical figures and how they died, scolding them like most men would scold a rugby player on TV when they messed up. He would yell out to the historical figure about how much potential they still had if their life ended prematurely and if they had ended their own life.

I knew he was scared. But every other moment he acted fine. Sane. Smart. Amazing. He loved me and he loved life. Even more than that he loved history.”

She set her cup down so firmly against the saucer I was surprised it didn’t crack.

“Or so I believed.” She focused on the sinking froth at the surface of my cup. She smiled, not gently. “Why did he do it? I know you know more than you are leading on. We had a deal. Kid.”

I almost chuckled. The way she had said ‘Kid’ had sounded so pathetic coming from her lip-glossed mouth.

“Spit it out!”

The idle chatter around us dulled as the other customers turned to stare. I wiped the smirk off my face.

“Sir died for us, not for you.”

“He would have died for nobody!”

I wheezed. A failed attempt at a choking laugh. “Why else would he tell that to us before throwing himself in the path of an oncoming engine. I can even show you the faintest blood stains on my uniform shirt.” I began unrolling my sleeve.

“That’s not true! We were his life. HIS FAMILY.”

She was yelling now, the way a worn mother would scold a child. It was embarrassing.

“Seems you didn’t really know him. I don’t know what he is to you, but he’s a god to me. A god to us.”

Juliet dropped a string of profanity. It was really unexpected. Then again, you could probably always expect the anger issues to come out of the people you least it expect it from.

“Why did he die for you then? Tell me again what worth you little buggers had in exchange for his life.”

“Cause and effect. His Death, and event, that triggers events following it. That’s how history works. Haven’t you seen the news recently? It’s the biggest it’s ever been. We’ve got a quaint little country here. This stuff makes national headlines with excitement.

“An idiot can connect the dots between those deaths.” Juliet grumbled. “I’m still in disbelief that students could become so obsessed with a teacher they would imitate him. There’s something not adding up.”

“Of course not. I’m just as curious as you are.”

“Don’t act snark with me. I have one final question for you.”

“I’m listening.” I leaned forward, resting my chin on the back of my fingers.

Juliet’s next words deafened me. Her lips moved, but I remained stock frozen after her first utterance. My name. My full name. I had never even told her part of it.

She picked up on my reaction immediately, her eyes widening into a fresh craze as she smiled tightly.

“So it is you. The school boy he was so concerned about. The little school boy he took pity on because of his terrible terminal illness. The one he left a generous donation for treatment in his recently edited will.”

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t feel.

“Am I any better to assume that you are single-handedly the motive for my husbands death?”