Hidden - a novel

Hidden a novel by Catherine McKenzie

(Excerpt)

Despite being only five hundred miles away from one another as the crow flies, there are no direct flights between my Springfield and Jeff's.

I consider driving to the funeral, but since I don't think I can stand that much time alone with my thoughts, I take a connecting flight through one of those hubs whose terminals splay out like spokes on a wheel. An hour there, an hour lay-over, an hour to the other Springfield, and I'll be there.

I'll. Be. There.

But what am I even doing here, on my way to Springfield, on my way to the funeral I told Zoey I wouldn't be attending?

The day after the day, after the shouting, the crying, what I hope was the worst day of my life, I managed, somehow, to pull a cloak of normalcy around me. I sat at my desk, answered my phone and emails, and processed paperwork.

For the next three unfortunates who were being terminated, I pretended I wasn't the object of stares, of whispers, of questions, of doubt. In my silence, I hoped, I'd reinforce the hasty explanations I gave on the ride home with Lori, and that would be that. If I was lucky, there'd be some other event, or someone else, to talk about tomorrow.

At midday, an email went out to the memeers of the HR department. It had been decided that someone from the company should attend the funeral. Be an envoy. Say a few nice things about how devoted Jeff was, how well liked. It wouldn't be a pleasant mission, so a volunteer would be appreciated.

The email felt like a bomb sitting in my inbox.

Where my co-workers expecting me to diffuse it?

As the minutes ticked away and no one their raised hand, my chest started to constrict and I worried I might start hyperventilating. I wanted to go, and I knew at the same time that it was the last thing I should be doing.

In the end, I couldn't help myself.

I'll go, I wrote and hit Send before sanity restored itself.

As my email pinged into my department's inboxes, I imagined I heard a collective sigh of relief. Oh, thank God, a dozen people were thinking – or so I imagined. I won't have to be surrounded by sad people, or search for the right words to say. Besides, my thoughts ran on, she should be the one to go, anyway.

Shouldn't she?

The complicated nature of love, griefs, truth, and the place they hold in our lives... Illustration by Elena.