Marine Snow's
Ep. 10. Dying Massage
Today, my brain isn't running the way it should. There are some things that inhibit every impulse that is sent to be processed. I know what caused it to crash. My memories, my memories, everything. My whole body refused to forget. Even trying not to think about it, it felt like cutting wood using a kitchen knife. It takes a very long time and has the potential to fail almost 100 percent.
“Your turn, Aiden.”
I lifted my face to face the one who had reminded me of the farewell I had to do. Shofia looked at me. Her tears were still flowing and she did not want to bother to clean them up. It's a farewell to Victoria's body. Let all the tears spill. This woman must have thought that way.
I left an iron chair that was set up exactly one and a half meters from Victoria's grave. Just a few steps closer, a girl ran up to me. I raised next to my brow as he thrust out a white rose.
“For Mrs. Black,” said.
Mrs. Black's. Victoria was known by her surname at the school where she taught. I turned towards the original little girl with blonde hair. There, behind some men and women who had friendly faces, some children were trying to stick their heads out. Curiosity was more domineering on their faces when compared to expressions of sadness.
It'sit's okay.
They're still kids.
“Thank you,” my word. “Can I give it my own way?”
The blonde girl nodded excitedly. “Mrs. Black always says, there is nothing better than being sure of yourself.”
He said that? Victoria Black's? Now I want to laugh. But the serious face of this little girl made me desperately hold her back. “Good advice, Little Girl.”
After seeing the blonde girl return to Victoria's coworker's arms, I faced the burrow where the chatty lady would stay for good. Victoria's in that box. The coffin made of teak wood looked luxurious with a black color basically and a gold V engraving in the middle. I don't know why David Black put all his power into the funeral of a woman who won't even buy a new blouse.
Crouching down, I looked at the white rose and the black chest in turn. “If I had been Laertes, I would have jumped into your burrow, V. And if I become Hamlet, I will ask to be buried with you. I am Aiden Johnson. Here's what I'm gonna do.”
My fingers began to move to pluck out each petal of the white rose in my left hand. I let the petals fly in the autumn breeze and left one on the stalk. “A rose like this fits you better. Stalks that are as hard as your head and all your behavior. And the petals.You always give all of yours to others. So, leave one petal to comfort you. Rest in peace and do not disturb my life again.”
Just a few seconds after I stood up, Dominic appeared beside me while patting me on the shoulder. I was about to leave to give them some time when the clap on my shoulder turned into a pretty strong grip. Reflexes, I looked at him sharply. Trying to find the right reason why I should stay.
Almost a minute Dominic was silent. Nothing changed from the look on his face, before and after the man threw a red rose into Victoria's burrow. I felt, he was saying a lot of things in his residence. Talk of those who love each other ─or somehow their relationship. For now, I still doubt any speculation about Victoria Black accepting Dominic Miller's feelings.
“You're done?” my many. My shoulder started to ache because of Dominic's pedestal. “What are you talking to him about?”
Dominic smiled wryly as he let go of my shoulder. “Declaration, Aiden. You don't need to know. And by the way, thank you for your shoulder. Ever since I saw the casket lowered, I wanted to run and jump in with it. Even while patting your shoulder earlier, I almost jumped there.”
It'swrong.
Dominic was supposed to scream asking to be buried with Victoria, not just jump into a grave like Laertes. But it would be better if the man jumped into Victoria's burrow, swore death would continue to love her, and made another fuss by asking that the land be immediately taken down. My hair shuddered when I imagined it. If that happens, this funeral will be remembered all the time.
“Let's give another chance,” Dominic said as he stepped back into the lined iron chairs.
I followed his steps and sat down at my place. From here, I can see the entire cemetery filled with a sea of black-clothed humans in various ages. Victoria's students and co-workers were four feet away from where I was sitting. I also recognized some of the faces that used to be her High School friends. And what surprised me was that there were two people with curious faces behind a horde of Victoria High School friends.
The two men whispered to each other. Every now and then stare at me ─or maybe at Dominic-and clash my mouth. They look like debt collectors who are deliberating over who they should charge Victoria Black's debts to. To someone who loved him, or to this stranger.
And they decided to point me.
Damnit.
***
“You named Aiden Johnson?”
“Ya,” I said while stopping the pace.
The two men with curious faces were actually intending to hunt me down. I've been trying to disappear among some of the mourners and come home in David's Jeep. Dominic wanted to come with me. But I forbid it for the three men to be a little fooled. It turns out what I've done was in vain.
“I'm Marcus Wright from Memphis Police. Can we talk for a minute?” ask the man with the striking purple tie. From his neat and slickly ironed clothing style, I knew he was not someone who was used to serving in the field.
Marcus looked at me with his narrow eyes. I can't lie if right now, his face is funnier than Natalie's poodle. But from any angle, the man was holding back his emotions. His hands were clenched, veins around his neck were sticking out to the surface, and faintly, I heard the sound of teeth clashing.
“It. Look as much as you can,” Marcus said as he handed me his ID and badge. He then gave orders to his skinny friend to do the same.
Marcus Wright is the chief investigator of Memphis Police. While the man next to him, the skinny man, named Cody Hicks. His experience in fieldwork is only 3 months. That's why Marcus is here to stand by. Automatically, these two people are handling the case of Victoria Black's death.
After digging up some important information, I returned their identities. “Good, please ask me a question, Mr. Wright.”
“Here?” He asked with a slightly high intonation. His eyeballs combed around my empty yard, then clucked in dislike. “Although it is now quiet, talking about something as important as this in the open can trigger the unexpected. Our conversation could have been eavesdropped on someone else.”
I nodded with no interest. “Good, if you force.”
I led Marcus and Cody into the house. I gave them permission to sit in the country-style living room. I cleared my throat for a while as the two were engrossed in the interior design created by Dad. Quickly, Cody picked up the small notebook and the ballpoint pen he had in his pocket. While Marcus reached into his briefcase.
“We found your pocket book not far from TKP. Can you explain why this book is there?”
My mouth was gaping and almost half of my sanity came out from there. I just set foot in Memphis. It is not because of my own will. And now, what do I get? My pocket book, which somehow, is in the hands of this man before me.
Dear God, I can't even let you breathe quietly for a few minutes.
The pocket book was waved in front of me. I can't do anything else but look at her. The cover is green and has been consumed by age. There's a Memphis High School crest printed embossed in the middle. But I can still see traces of ink that are beginning to disguise age. AJ16TH.
Aiden Johnson, 16.
“Mr Johnson?” Marcus again put his probing gaze. “Explain why this book could be on TKP?”
My arm is getting stronger. “Entahlah. Thirteen years ago, I still had that book. If you were aware of the death of someone named Aaron Johnson, this book should be in the evidence storage box of that case. “
Cody stopped taking notes and asked spontaneously. “What do you mean, Mr?”
Marcus glanced at him with a deadly look. But he immediately focused on me. “Aaron Johnson is your father?”
I nodded slowly. “Police considers it a case of suicide due to lack of evidence. There was only a short message on the last four pages of the book as a hint.”
The thin man who was very quick in taking notes, suddenly stopped due to the orders of a Marcus Wright. Glove. The man in a bright purple tie needed gloves to tamper with rare evidence from a case 13 years ago.
At nearly the same speed as a snail, Marcus read and flipped through dull papers containing homework notes when I was 16. He then muttered some things beyond his observation that were caught by my ears. Marcus Wright commented on my writing, my homework, and some pictures of cars that he thought were very ugly.
“Is this a message from Mr Johnson Senior as you have delivered?”
I increased the focus of my eye lens until the thin, high-end writing was clearly read in my retina. I know the type and the way to write that book. The ballpoint pen used should have a diameter smaller than 0.5 mm. You can't write too pressurized. Two things are needed in writing Victorian Black.
“Not, Sir,” muttered unknowingly. I even added. “That writing belongs to Victoria.”
Marcus and Cody looked at each other. I know, the case 13 years ago is beyond their authority. But with evidence of the old case coming up near the CTF who had just been given a police line for less than 24 hours, doubts in our minds grew rapidly.
Is it true that the cases of Aaron Johnson and Victoria Black only stalled at the decision that they committed suicide?
“Read, Mr. Johnson. This message is addressed to you,” Marcus said as he handed me my old pocket book.
My smile expanded for a few seconds and vanished as soon as I started reading every sentence Victoria wrote. Bad memories of Dad's last message blend into one. Both Dad and Victoria apologized at the opening. Dad's first message was to look after Shofia. Victoria silenced me with a paragraph about my return.
“I know you'll be back, Aiden. Someday, it will happen. Sure. But not on the anniversary of Mr. Johnson's death. Not on Shofia and Daddy's wedding anniversary. Not on my birthday. On the last day, I breathed. Thank you, Aiden. Thank you for getting rid of a little ego for attending my funeral.”
The tip in my eyes is heating up. In the next second, I could feel every tear drop rapidly and could not stop it. I wiped the remaining tears with the back of my hand, then looked at her with great amazement. Thirteen years ago was the last time I cried. And now, right in the same funeral home, I'm crying over Victoria Black's departure.
