As Seen On TV

What Comes After {Epilogue}

The little graveyard was at once the happiest and the saddest place I had ever been to.

As the funeral ceremony finished up, not a single one of the mourners, all clad in black, clutching brochures and bouquets of flowers and huddled around the fresh grave plot, was not on the verge of tears.

I had already cried enough to fill a river, and I could sense I was only about to cry more. But I had to see him. 

As the small crowd began to disperse, murmuring in somber tones to one another and muttering prayers, I hung back, watching the family stick by the grave.

They stood there for maybe half an hour more, and soon, one by one, they turned to go. The father took the two smaller boys, one of which lead the dog. The taller brother and his wife corralled their children slowly toward their minivan. 

Soon, there was only one man remaining.

I sighed and emerged from behind the crook of the tree I had been huddling near, so as the rest of the family wouldn't spot me. I had been there for the entire funeral, but no one had recognized me, by some stroke of luck, and I just blended in with the sea of black.

I approached quietly, my heels sinking into the damp green grass, and stood mere feet from his back, finally. I realized with a start that his cuts and bruises had mostly healed, and that the bandage covering half of his face was no longer tangled in his red hair. I stepped forward and drew in a sharp breath, not even sure how to begin.

Andrew turned around to face me.

Everything that I had been continually rehearsing in my head immediately disappeared. My mind was epically, thoroughly empty.

Tears welled in his eyes, and the area around his cheeks and nose was raw and red. He was wearing a crisp black suit that looked a bit rumpled in areas, but still fit him perfectly. His tie was slightly crooked.

His face looked a lot better than when I had last seen him, but it was still yellow and green in some areas, and I tried not to gasp when I saw that the left half of his face, that beautiful face that had haunted my dreams for the past week, was covered in burn scars. He was wearing a black eyepatch, and if I hadn't been bawling before, I would have melted into a hopeless puddle right then and there.

He looked surprised at first, but quickly recovered, reaching up a hand to wipe at his nose and sniffling, momentarily stopping his tears.

I realized I had to say something. He wasn't going to make this easy. I suppose I deserved that.

"I realize that... this isn't really the best time."

His lip trembled, and I thought that he would begin to cry all over again. He said nothing, and his face gave nothing away. He didn't look angry or like he was even listening, just impossibly sad.

"Andrew, I am so, so sorry. About everything. First, I'm so..." I choked back a sob and pushed through, determined to get out everything I had to say before breaking completely.

"I'm sorry about your mother. She was such a good woman. I know you loved her a lot."

He turned slightly, back towards the grave. I slowly floated up next to him as we both looked down at the flowers and freshly turned soil.

He finally spoke, his voice raw and emotional.

"At least we had some warning."

My heart was breaking for him. I wanted to make it all better, but there was nothing I could do but stare on, helplessly.

I reached tentatively towards his hand hanging limply at his side. My hand was shaking uncontrollably. I thought better of it and flinched away, but before I could step back, his hand shot out and grasped mine tightly. He didn't meet my eyes yet.