Crossroads (3 page)

“
I’m fine, Mom, I’ll be
right out,” I replied.

That would explain why my mom’s phone
was ringing like crazy. I could imagine there would be a great deal
of confusion and concern since Claudia Emerson, homecoming queen
and now a drunk-driving victim, had the same name as me. What were
the odds of having a good friend who had the same first and last
name? It was strange and uncomfortable at first, but I had gotten
used to it, since we had been friends and schoolmates since third
grade.

There was another quiet tap on the
door, and I heard Mom’s voice again. “We need to pick up Gamma, and
we should get to church a bit earlier.”

As she spoke, I opened the door. We
were face to face. As I nodded to respond, I was struck by the
beauty of her face. I guess I had never realized it before, but she
didn’t look like she was in her late forties to me. In fact, she
could probably have passed for my older sister. Her skin was as
smooth as velvet, and there was not a wrinkle on her face. Her
ebony hair reached just above her shoulders. At times I wondered
what I would look like had I acquired her emerald green eyes. But
instead, I inherited my father’s brown eyes. I didn’t know if I
looked more like him than her, and I never would because we didn’t
have a picture of him. My parents had eloped, and shortly after,
she was pregnant. Tragically, he passed away in a freak car
accident before I was born. I hardly asked about him anymore since
I knew that I was dredging up painful memories. It was already hard
enough being a single mom, especially one working long hours as a
nurse. Through it all, she was never a woman of
complaints.

Fortunately for us, we had Gamma in
our lives. Gamma was my grandmother’s best friend and also my
godmother. I was just a toddler when my grandmother passed away,
and Gamma filled the void by visiting frequently. She never got
married, so we became her family. She was a great help to Mom and
took care of me, especially when she had to work the late shifts.
Gamma pampered me, which was the best part. But at the same time,
she sheltered me, perhaps too much.

Gamma and I sat in the back while Mom
drove us to church. It was quiet in the car, and we hardly spoke a
word, but Gamma held my hand the whole ride there as her way of
comforting me. What was normally a short ride seemed twice as long
as the anticipation of getting to the church settled in my stomach.
Still feeling numb from Claudia’s death, I walked to where my
friends were standing. We hugged to say hello, but this morning it
was a different kind of hug. I understood the meaning of these
hugs…they were “I’m glad to see you alive” hugs. One by one, they
got the physical confirmation they needed that I was alive. Then we
all stood in a circle in dead silence. I guess no one knew what to
say or how to react around me. They knew how close Claudia and I
had been.

Receiving those hugs reminded me of
how Claudia and I would hug every time we saw each other, with the
exception of last week. I had seen her from a distance. We waved
hello, but that was all. Claudia was missing a lot of church. She
and I were starting to be more like acquaintances than friends. We
had been best friends throughout junior high school, but our
friendship drifted apart when we attended different high schools.
It didn’t matter, though, because the fact that we shared the same
name bonded us forever.

As if having the exact first and last
name wasn’t odd enough, we also had the same hairstyle, and were
even the same height. The differences were that she knew everything
about boys and fashion, was more outgoing, and less sheltered than
me. My thoughts began to reflect back to the last time I saw her.
Why didn’t I just go up to her and give her a hug? The more I
thought about this, the more pain I felt deep in the pit of my
stomach. Had I known that it was going to be the last hug, I surely
would have held on tightly. Now it was too late, and there was
nothing I could do.

Without warning, I felt an arm around
me. It was John, dressed in his usual T-shirt and jeans. I looked
up at him and noticed that his hair looked two-toned under the sun,
brown with lighter highlights. He gave me a half smile, and I could
feel his uncertainty through his body language. It was almost as if
he wasn’t sure whether his closeness was appropriate at this given
time. After a few seconds, he finally spoke.

“
Hey, Claudia, are you
okay?”

“
I think so. I’m not sure.
I don’t know how I feel right now. It’s like a dream. Did it really
happen?”

“
Yeah,” he said, as he
tucked his hands into his pockets. I could tell he felt nervous
because he changed the subject. “So where are we going for lunch?”
He tried to sound cheerful.

“
I don’t feel like going
today,” I said in a monotone as I stared into space.

“
Sure, I understand,” he
agreed, though he sounded disappointed.

There was an uncomfortable silence,
which was unusual because John and I could talk about anything.
None of us knew what to say as we stood next to each other. I was
beginning to wonder how long we would just stand there when Marie
broke the silence. “Come on, we’re gonna be late for Mass,” she
said.

Inside, I felt overwhelmed with guilt
and shame. I stared at the cross. I wasn’t paying attention during
Mass. In fact, I couldn’t even recall if I placed an envelope into
the donation basket. All I could think about was how I would never
see Claudia again. I vaguely heard Father Roy speaking about the
tragedy of Claudia’s death, but all I could do was to dwell on the
last hug I hadn’t given or received. The strangest part was that I
couldn’t even cry. I felt no emotion. Wasn’t I supposed to cry when
someone I cared about passed away? Why wasn’t I crying? I was
always good at hiding my feelings, but this was impressive. Perhaps
this numbness would carry over and get me through the
funeral.

Chapter 2

It had been a week since my friend
passed away. As much as I wanted her death to be just a dream,
burying her was a reminder that it wasn’t. Dreadfully, I looked
inside my closet to look for something appropriate to wear. There
wasn’t much to choose from. My wardrobe consisted basically of
jeans and T-shirts. Besides, it’s not like I would have a funeral
outfit just hanging there. It’s something you don’t expect to
prepare for at such a young age, especially for a friend’s
funeral.

After fruitless searching, I finally
found black slacks and a black button-down blouse. I couldn’t
remember when I bought these, but they were good enough. Maybe I
should have gone out to buy something, but shopping for clothes to
wear to a funeral seemed too morbid.

When we arrived at St. Thomas, Mom,
Gamma, and I slowly walked down the aisle toward the front
together. After we found a place to sit, I looked around. Looking
out into an entire congregation of nothing but black attire
overwhelmed me with sadness so I glanced upward. The sun’s rays
captured each color so vividly, illuminating a dazzling brilliance
of light. Every color of the spectrum could be seen throughout the
church. At the front, one could clearly see Jesus on the wooden
cross. The cross was enormous and hung directly over the altar,
which was made of light gray marble and stood as the focal point. I
was mesmerized by the colorful stained-glass windows, The Stations
of the Cross to be more accurate, portraying the stages of Jesus’
life.

This was a special church. This was
where all of our adventures began: the retreats, gatherings, and
lifelong bonding between friends. It didn’t matter if you were
rich, poor, or had a different color skin. Anyone who attended St.
Thomas found a way to make lasting friendships. I clearly
remembered the first day Claudia and I became friends. It was an
amusing moment for her and a dimwitted one for me. I smiled as I
recalled the conversation that made us simultaneously laugh like
silly schoolgirls. I had asked her what kind of jeans she was
wearing because I thought they looked cute. She simply replied,
“Guess.”

So I did! I was a little bit
scatterbrained since there were so many types of jeans, so I
randomly picked a brand name. “Are they Gap?”

She responded back with a smile, “No,
Guess.”

I really didn’t want to guess because
I was not at all into that fashion stuff. Besides, I was a little
annoyed that Claudia was finding this entertaining.

“
Claudia, could you just
tell me? I don’t know too many brand names.”

She replied, laughing hysterically,
“You are so cute and naïve. Guess is a brand name.”

I started laughing uncontrollably with
her at this point; laughing at myself because all that time I
thought she wanted me to “guess” the brand name of her jeans. That
was all it took. Just like that, we became best friends.

My attention shifted to below the
altar, and that’s when I noticed a picture of my friend. It must
have been her senior portrait. She was smiling, her hair flawless,
and a look of contentment was on her face. This was the face I
would never see again, one whose life was taken so abruptly by a
drunk driver. Would I remember this face in years to come? How I
wished that I could have exchanged some comforting words with her
last week. I’m so sorry, I said to myself, as if she could hear
me.

At that moment, the shock of her death
disappeared, and reality settled in. My friend was gone forever,
and I would never see her again. Tears started flowing down my
cheeks, one after another. I had no control now. No matter how much
I tried to hold back the tears and no matter how many deep breaths
I took, tears were streaming down my face.

Stop crying. Stop crying, I commanded
myself, but nothing seemed to work. I tried to fight back the
tears, but that made the heartache heavier and more painful, as if
I had been stabbed in my heart. The pain of her loss cut so deep,
and I didn’t know how I could say good-bye. It was worse than
anything I had ever endured. Would I ever forget this
pain?

What came next was a sight I had not
prepared myself for—Claudia’s mom. To be in the presence of a
grieving mother was heart wrenching. Watching her mourn the
daughter she loved, knowing she would never see her graduate high
school or college, fall in love and get married, or have a child of
her own to love the way she so loved her Claudia, made me cringe
and tremble. Looking at the father who would never walk his
daughter down the aisle and the sister who no longer had a
confidant broke my heart, and I began to sob. My tears were no
longer just for Claudia, but for the family she had left
behind.

The pain had overtaken me, and I was
gasping for air. My throat felt irritatingly dry, and my heart was
beating too quickly for me to catch my breath. Just when I thought
I was going to faint, I felt a warm body next to me. It was Patty.
She had managed to slip in between Mom and me. As our eyes met, I
saw her teary eyes. She simply took my hand and squeezed it to show
me she was there for me. We didn’t need to exchange a single word.
Her sole presence made me feel better, and having Gamma, Mom, and
Patty next to me gave me comfort beyond words.

After the funeral Mass, we all went to
the burial site. Patty had to leave for work, so I stood next to
Mom, Gamma, and my friends. I’d lost some of the comfort when Patty
left, but I was thankful that she had even come at all. I knew she
had come for one reason only, and that was to be there for
me.

Saying good-bye to someone you love is
hard enough to do. Having to watch them being lowered into the
ground into what is basically a glorified box is excruciatingly
painful. I couldn’t say that I understood why some felt the need to
witness this. A marker on the grass was all that was left of this
dark and miserable day. Everyone was sobbing uncontrollably as we
consoled each other. There was a brief moment of solace as we stood
together united by grief, aching with agony. I didn’t want to say
good-bye, but I had no choice. Her family had no choice. Life would
have to go on, and somehow they would find a way to cope with their
loss.

Then I thought, if they had left for
the dance just a little later or a little earlier, she would still
be alive. I was raised through faith; believing in a higher power,
knowing that all things happen for a reason beyond our control or
ability to understand. Had they been at the wrong place at the
wrong time? Or perhaps they were at the right place at the right
time? I could only comfort myself by thinking that it was meant to
be. It was her destiny to pass on to another world.