NATASHA

While sitting on the couch, both my parents drinking coffee, the perfect shade of milky brown, the birds chirping outside, on the most perfect sunny day; it was a great day to go out. But, today was about Arthur Dauntridge. The flowers we were going to be taking with us were prepared on the bench top.
"I cannot believe he passed away so soon." Dad said, while putting his empty coffee cup on the coffee table.
"Neither can I." I said, while slouching a little, "well, we've got the flowers; I think that should be enough."

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I turned the steering wheel around.
"It's this turn right?"
"Yep." Mum said, while she held the small bouquet of white flowers in her hand.
Once we got there, I parked a little faraway; the spots were all taken. The whole town was here for his funeral. As I looked around, I saw his two daughters sitting on an vined outdoor swing, with their ashy brown hair curled. They were twins, about the same age as me. It was a pool of black, everyone was wearing black. Hopefully I don't come across Ian here. There's a good chance I will. I don't want to talk to Clara ever again, but she was my best friend. She deserves a second chance after all. Forgive, but don't forget.
In the middle of the outdoor plot, lay the white, unopened casket, with a pile of white flowers balanced on top of it. My mother walked towards it and placed the bouquet next to it. A few paces away from the casket, was a stand, with a microphone on top of it. His wife, and two daughters were here. I cannot imagine how they feel, losing a loved one like this. Somebody tapped my shoulder, and I turned around.
"Hi Natasha." Dane said, "don't worry Ian didn't come. But Clara did."
"Hi um-"
"She wanted to talk to you. She couldn't find you though."
"Yeah I-"
As I was about to speak, there was a loud ringing sound coming from the speakers connected to the microphone.
"I'm Amanda Dauntridge. I met Arthur nearly 30 years ago when I first moved to this amazing little town. He became my best friend. He knew how to always make me laugh, always knew how to comfort me when I was down. We had 27 truly joyful years of the deepest love, happiest marriage, and truest partnership that I could imagine. . . He gave me the experience of being deeply understood, truly supported and completely and utterly loved- and I will carry that with me always. Most importantly, he gave me the two most beautiful, amazing, and kind children in the world; Lilah and Amerie." She said, while gazing her eyes toward her daughters, "Arthur was my rock. When I got upset, he stayed calm. When I was worried, he said it would be ok. When I wasn't sure what to do, he figured it out. He was completely dedicated to our children in every way- and their strength these past few days is the best sign I could have that he is still here with us in spirit. Arthur and I did not get nearly enough time together. But as heartbroken as I am today, I am equally grateful. If the day I walked down that aisle with Arthur, someone had told me that this would happen- that he would be taken from us all in just 27 years- I would still have walked down that aisle. Because 27 years of being Arthur Dauntridges wife, and 26 years of being a parent with him is perhaps more luck and more happiness than I could have ever imagined. I am grateful for every minute we had together. As we put the love of my life to rest today, we would bury only his body. His spirit, his soul, his amazing ability to give is still with it. Things will never be the same- but the world is better for the years my beloved husband lived." Tears fell down her cheek, but she wiped them away, and there were claps from everyone in the crowd.

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If Clara wanted to talk to me, why would she do it at the Mayors funeral? Dane stood beside me, and signalled me multiple times to go talk to her.
"Clara should try finding me if she really wants to talk to me Dane." I rolled my eyes.
"How is she meant to find you in a place where everyone is wearing black." He said. Then I received taps on my shoulder from the left side.
"Natasha. We need to talk. Now." Clara said, her eyes glimmering with hopefulness and guilt. I couldn't say no to the girl that watched me grow up.
"Fine. But not here- you know."
"Yes yes. I know." Clara said, while she pulled me over to a place where there were nothing but trees in the colour of auburn. There was something different about Clara. She dyed it back to brown again.
"Okay I know you probably hate me a lot but I- I miss you Tash." She said, fiddling around with her freshly done acrylics.
"I don't hate you. I hate what you did." I said. "What did you want to say?"
"Ian isn't in my life anymore- thank god. I couldn't stop thinking about us and our friendship and I just-"
I leaned in to hug her. She was a little shorter than me so her glammed face dug into my shoulder.
"We should go out; catch up on each other again." I said, grabbing her two shoulders.
"Yes. You don't understand how much I've wanted to talk to you again. My best friend of god knows how many years. Maybe tonight?" She chuckled, while she wiped away the anticipating tears from her reddened eyes.
"Sure. Tonight I'm totally free."

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The funeral ended hours ago and I was sitting in my single bed, wearing my fluffy polka dot pants, with a cold bowl of boysenberry ice cream sitting on my lap, leaving cold residue on it. I'm also wearing a shirt that I wore ten years ago, back when I was eleven. The digital alarm clock next to me on the small bedside table; that was on the verge of imploding; shined the numbers "6:57" on it. That's when I realised, in an hour or so, I was gonna go meet up with Clara. Maybe I forgave her too easily. But it was over Ian. Ian frickin' Walton. So does it really matter that much? Clara realised that Ian was a piece of shit eventually anyway, so mutually we agreed that Ian is just- well, a piece of shit. So I learnt my lesson: don't date a guy you found through your phone. My phone buzzed, and its blue screen shone brightly.

Clara: So Saltlake Bar?

Natasha: yeah. I guess that's the closest one

Clara: and the best one. Undeniably.

Natasha: 😂😂

Clara: see you there 😉🥂

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I decided to wear something simple; although elegant. So, I chose to wear a white floral dress, that flower with every step you took. It was perfect. I just hope that Clara and I really resolve the dilemma we had and work it all out it depth. I put on my mascara and applied shiny clear lipgloss, and brought my white purse with me, that funnily enough had my card, my phone, another clear lipgloss, small bits of makeup, some cash, and an expired condom from likely 3 years ago. Great.

When I went downstairs, it looked like mum and dad were having a highly theoretical discussion. Her gaze turned around to me.
"Natasha where are you going?" She smiled.
"I'm going out with Clara; to Saltlake." I said, while I readjusted my necklace so that the charm faced the right way. "I'll call you, I promise mum."
Dad pressed his lips to together. "Have fun, but stay safe hermosa."
"Yeah, of course I will. And don't worry, my one year experience in Brazilian jiujitsu might help as defence." I chuckled.
My parents waved goodbye to me, and I opened the door to be greeted with the Uber I called minutes before.

It's an awkward drive. So awkward. No one ever tells you how awkward it is sitting at the backseat of an Uber silently all alone. The only sounds I could hear were the sounds of the indicators and the rocks that the wheels tread on. But, after all of that, eventually we got there. The lights at the front of the Uber made it easier for me to spot Clara. She was wearing a short red dress, holding nothing but her phone. We saw each other and waved like little girls coming to school on their first day.

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Men. The bar was filled with many men. Obviously there were girls but- barely any. The bartenders seemed nice, and experienced, but it was so full and-
"Ugh I feel so claustrophobic right now. I'm gonna go try find us a spot to go sit at. You go get us some drinks- and then we can talk. I don't mind anything." Clara winked.
I went up to the front barstools where I saw the bartenders constantly creating drinks over and over again in perfection. One of them caught my attention. A tall, slender man wearing sleek glasses. He had sharp features but soft eyes. And he looked young, but well experienced.
"2 martinis please." I said, while he nodded his head creating the perfect alcoholic amalgamation he seems to be making. He placed them down and I slipped the cash. Now was the hard part. Trying to find Miss Clara Crawford. I had to be careful with the precious drinks in my 2 hands. Clara was waving around her hands frantically, while I was trying to focus on trying not to make the olives fall onto the ground.

I sat down with her successfully with the two martini's somehow still completely intact with the olive still sitting in it.
"Do you remember that day we went looking for a red dress for you?" She said, while she sipped.
"Yeah. I do." I said.
"Did you end up selling it?"
I grinned. "Thanks for reminding me. I'll try selling it when I get home."
"Or you could just lend it to me. I'll even give you some money for it!" She said.
"Fine. I have to get rid of it somehow." I chuckled. "By the way, I need you to explain the whole- Ian- thing. I need to get it off my chest." I said, while finishing the last bit of my drink.
"Okay. Well, he texted me first. He said he didn't know what to get you for Christmas, and he actually had no intention of well- you know. He didn't want this to happen. He was happy with you. But one day, when we finally met up with eachother to work together and find a gift for you, we ended up switching plans. Ian said that he'll get the gift later but "right now all I need a little drink." He said. So we went out to get a drink, but we both got a little drunk and. . . Things turned around. I wanted to forget what happened and I didn't want it to escalate like this but I was addicted because- I craved someone's touch. Anybody. And in this case it was Ian. It was so wrong but I couldn't stop because I felt like we both had a passion for eachother. But soon I came to my senses. He's a horrible person, Natasha. He craves lust, not love. And it's easy to see."
"I totally get it Clara. You deserve to find someone who loves you, for you." I sighed. "Thanks for being honest."
"That's what friends are for right?" She chuckled, tears falling down her cheek, ruining the well-done makeup she did. "My makeup's fucked isn't it?"
"Don't worry I brought some stuff you could use." I chuckled. "Come."
"Thanks Tasha." She smiled, the numbers "9:18" flashed on her phone.
We both stood up, and I held her forearm tight as we pushed past to get to the bathrooms. Inside the female bathroom, it was nice and cool. It was a well lit area, almost like a linen colour. It was quiet. I opened my purse and looked for some foundation. "Here use this" I said, while handing it to her. But for some reason she didn't grab the bottle.

There was a black, gloved, hand around Clara's neck, with a syringe attached, connected to her spinal cord. There was a loud thump on the ground when her unconscious body laid there. I was in a state of shock I couldn't even scream. The man steered his attention to me. I didn't know who it was, half of his face was covered with a black bandana. His sunken, and soulless eyes peered into me, and the index finger of his hand was extended vertically in front of his bandana.
"Shh. Stay quiet for me. This'll only hurt for a millisecond."
He put his cold hand around my neck and stabbed the syringe into it. This last thing I remembered were his piercing eyes. There was no reflection in his eyes. Pure darkness it was. My eyes slowly started to dim down and blur away.

"Wh-who are y-you. . ."