A Deadly Wish

Ken furrowed his brow as he saw her approach. It was evident he was equally disgusted at the sight of her as she was of him. He slipped his fingers into the pocket of his jeans. Perhaps, ready for another humiliation by her wife's best friend.

Whitney hissed. "I see you are having the time of your life while my friend is about to become food for some fucking organisms underground. Huh?"

Only muffled voices accompanied her angry words. Ken pretended not to have heard her, so he tried to walk away. What guts!

"You're the worst person in the universe, aren't you?" she asked, causing him to halt. He swiveled so that their eyes met and her breathing ceased.

From such a close distance, he was tall. Huge. Terrifying. She never for once considered that.

He was nothing below six foot three, he had dark ravenous hair, exactly like her except that he had silky straight in place of her thick curly. His eyes were hazel, a perfect contrast to his hair. Was it right that her eyes were glued to his shoulders? His constant visit to the gym paid off well. They were enormous, finely muscled, and almost breaking through his black button-up shirt.

Damn you, Whitney, she thought. It was crazy that she was at her own best friend's wake and staring at her husband's shoulders. She shook the perverseness away from her mind.

"Do you want me to join her in the casket?" Ken asked. At a second look, he did not seem like the I-don't-care type of guy. His eyes were faintly red and his eyebags were a little protruded. Had he been crying?

"I would not mind if you want to," Whitney replied, reminding herself not to feel sorry for him. He was a bad guy. The type to cause his sick wife much more pain than her sickness was causing. And him not knowing she was sick was no excuse at all.

He stared at her intently with his hazel pair of judging eyes. "You are a lot worse than I thought."

That hurt. Why the heck did that hurt her?

"And you?" she returned. "You wore a fucking pair of jeans and a shirt to your own wife's funeral. You were even flirting…"

"Flirting?" he interjected. "That was my cousin." Well, she could have been "another of his numerous flirts," as Stefflon always described it. He brushed his hair back. He looked like one of those models Whitney used for book covers.

"I do not know what gave you the impression that I am such a despicable type of man and I honestly do not care to know."

For a starter, his late wife who happened to be her best friend had told her all about his dark side. His pretense was not going to buy him the sympathy he was seeking. "I know more about you than you think."

"Fine." He yelled, pulling the attention of the guests. "Believe whatever it is you think you know," he said in a lower voice. "But I hope you do not ruin today, for me…and your friend. For everyone." There was genuine sadness in his eyes for the first time.

Brokenness lingered deep within.

Whitney did not utter another word to him till the wake ended and they kept a very good distance away from each other until they reached the cemetery for the funeral.

Mrs. Grey had insisted on a priest to perform her daughter's last rites. Stefflon would have protested if she were there but she wasn't and Whitney figured the poor woman would have a little closure with the hope that her daughter's soul would be let to light with some problems, she did not bother to protest against it. It was the last thing she could do for her daughter.

Prayers were said, tears were shed and wishes were made for all for Stefflon's soul. None of them knew, Stefflon was not confined in a white casket that would not even leave room for her to roll to either of her sides. She was the freaking sky. Limitless!

So, while others stared into the six feet grave that was dug for the body, Whitney looked up to the sky. We will meet again, Stefflon. We will. Her eyes spat more tears.

It was time for the casket to be lowered into the grave. Mrs. Grey became hysterical. A part of Whitney wanted to tap her on the shoulder and tell her whatever was in that box was not her daughter. She wanted to point up and show her Whitney but she resolved it would not be a wise thing to do in such a situation. She kept her and Stefflon's secret to herself while a piece of her lowered into the grave with Stefflon's body.

Panic rustled over Whitney; The casket stopped halfway into the grave. It would not budge even after the technicians from the funeral home tried to fix it. Perhaps, Stefflon didn't want to go. To leave Whitney, her mother, and maybe, Ken, her husband.

Whitney's eyes met with Kens'; he was equally sharing in her panic. She was not just panicking, she was furious. She scowled at him. And he dared to scowl back.

To be honest, he deserved an award as the worst man to have ever existed and for many, it would not make sense that she would blame him for the failure of the casket-lowering system but it was truly his fault. She had insisted on changing the funeral home that would handle the lowering but he had insisted they were the best to handle everything. Well, so much for being the best.

Thirty whole minutes passed and nothing could be done yet. The sun was scorching and some of the funeral guests had settled themselves on other tombs. Ken stood under a tree far away.

She was no longer having it. She marched up to him. "This is all your fault, Ken; it is okay if you didn't like Steff but why would you let this happen at her funeral?"

He sighed like he was not in the mood for another one of her naggings. It upset her even more. "What did I do this time?"

"What did you do this time?" Unbelievable that he was even asking. "If you had just listened to me and changed the funeral home, that." She pointed towards Stefflon's grave-to-be. "—would not have been happening."

"Now it is my fault a device failed?"

"It is your fault everything failed," she roared.

"Every single thing that has to go wrong is your damn fault."

"I am in no mood for this."

"Oh. You should because I will taunt you with everything in me until my friend gets the clean burial she deserves."

"Does she?"

Whitney thought she heard him wrong. "What did you just say?"

"You are embarrassing yourself, Whit." He looked over her head and when she followed the direction of his gaze, the whole guests had their eyes towards their direction.

Embarrassing.

She took a step away from him wishing the ground could part by itself and swallow her low. She searched her pause for her shades and covered her eyes with them to hide the shame that was cooking inside her, too humiliated to say a single thing to anyone else until the lowering device was replaced with a new one and Stefflon was finally buried.

The guests kept their flowers on the tomb and dispersed leaving Whitney at the cemetery with Stefflon's family and of course, Ken.

Whitney went to Mrs. Grey. "I am sorry for the commotion earlier," she said with an undertone. "I was just a little overwhelmed."

"I won't say it was impressive seeing you and him act that way. She was his wife and you were her best friend." She took a break between her words and then continued. "I doubt she will be happy seeing both of you at each other's throat."

"I know. I am sorry." And that would be the last time she would be sorry when it concerns Ken. She decided the moment she left the cemetery; she would never be in the same space as him or lay eyes on him ever again. Never.

"I need to see you both alone for a minute," Mrs. Grey said. She glanced at Ken and then at Whitney. "Stefflon left a gift for you but I must tell you what it is in private."

Ken nodded and so did Whitney. They went to the cemetery's parking lot. Whitney grew anxious as she tried to guess what Stefflon's gift possibly was. Stefflon was always full of surprises and she still was even though she was dead.

Mrs. Grey pulled out a white envelope and handed it to Whitney. "Before she started her chemo, she froze some of her eggs because she knew she would have no chance of carrying a child even if she did survive."

Whitney took the envelope. "And?"

"She wants you to carry her child."

Whitney tilted her head up very quickly. "She wants me to carry her child? Stefflon?" Her heart felt light for the very first time in the past week. The thought of having a living part of Stefflon with her beamed her up. "Is this…true? It is not a prank, is it?" She started to open the envelope.

Mrs. Grey pulled a weak smile. "No, it isn't but there is something else."

Whitney paused opening the envelope.

"Something else?" Her pulse quickened in anticipation.

"You must have the baby with Ken."