Mystery Within a Box

The last time I saw my best friend, Laura, was when I told her I hated her. That was almost a week ago. The fight we had seemed pointless now. I wished more than anything that I could take back what I said to her. My fingers were trembling as I remained seated; tears were running down my flushed face. I had to bite my cheek to keep from making any noise.

I watched as Laura’s mother stood and walked towards the podium. She moved slowly, as though she was in physical pain. Out of everyone there, she was crying the most. I mean, she did just lose her daughter. I couldn't imagine how that felt. My heart broke for her. My heart broke for Laura.

Laura’s casket remained closed behind the podium. It was a chestnut brown with elegant roses engraved around it. Laura’s favorite flower. The stems of the roses were being held by the talons of small birds, which were also engraved in the wood. On the top of the casket, printed in gold, were the Letters L.C., for Laura Carmichael.

Mrs. Carmichael was a petite woman. I always thought of her as proper because of the way she dressed. She always wore these beautiful bright dresses and large heals. However, during the funeral she was wearing this black gown and her makeup was running down her face. Her skin was so pale and her eyes were practically lifeless.

Like Laura, Mrs. Carmichael had this silky and slightly curled blond hair. I always told Laura that she could be her mother’s twin. Yet, standing at the podium, Mrs. Carmichael wore her hair un-brushed and hidden under a black fascinator hat.

Before long, the ceremony ended and crowds of people, in the funeral home, began leaving to walk to the cemetery. I watched Laura’s parents and her older brother, Eric, embraced together as they cried and shared their memories. They were practically my family, too. But at this moment, I could hardly recognize them. They were washed away by the tragedy that occurred.

As I was about to walk with them to the graveyard, I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“Avery…”

I turned around to see my recent ex boyfriend, Keith, standing there. I will be the first to admit that it shocked me he was there to begin with.

He seemed nervous with the way he was combing his fingers through his hair and keeping his eyes on the ground. “Can we talk?” He kept his voice low, for only me to hear. I stared at him for a moment before responding.

“I have nothing to say to you.” I couldn’t keep the annoyance out of my tone. He was hesitant, which gave me the chance to try and walk away. But before I could turn around, he grabbed a hold of my arm.

“It’s important.”

The way he carried himself as he stood there, I knew something was bothering him. He was always the jokester in all of our friends’ circles. I could never tell when he was kidding vs. when he was serious. But there was no doubt in my mind that whatever it was, it really was important. His eyes, which were usually the color of a chestnut with a tint of gold outlining his pupils, seemed so dark. Possibly even black. He was extremely pale, and looked utterly broken. He was rocking a five o’clock shadow, which was surprising because he always kept his face clean shaved. I could also tell he had been crying due to his bloodshot eyes; or maybe he was just high.

To be honest, Keith being high made more sense.

Every time I looked at him, all I could see was him and Laura in bed together. I hated having that thought in my head. I also hated thinking so little of him. I had known them both for most of my life. Keith was one of my best friends before he became my boyfriend. Despite destroying my trust, part of me still cared deeply for him. I tragically lost one best friend; it hurt to think about losing another. However, as much as I wanted to forgive him, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“What?” I finally asked, sounding and feeling impatient.

“I know what I did was unforgivable and you have no reason to trust me,” he began.

“I don’t,” I scoffed. He flinched as my words cut through the air like a knife.

He sighed and slumped his shoulders.

“You remember the night of our anniversary?” he asked.

What game was he playing?

I stared at him, dumbfounded.

Of course, I remembered the night of our anniversary. It was only a couple weeks ago that we celebrated our 3 years. He tried to take me out to dinner, but he was super late at picking me up. It kind of ruined the evening because the restaurant closed by the time we got there. We got fast food and then he took me home. The lack of effort he put into our anniversary really pissed me off and lowkey stung. We fought for most of the night. Less than a week later, I caught him in bed with Laura.

“Yes…” I muttered.

He was hesitant. “I was late because I was with Laura…” Now it was my turn to flinch as his words slapped me in the face. I didn't realize, until that point, that it was an ongoing thing between them. I had to recompose myself before allowing him to continue. “I lost track of time. When I realized how late it was, I had to rush out.”

“Why are you telling me this? Are you just trying to hurt me further? At her funeral? Are you that twisted?” I snapped; I could hear my tone wavering.

“No, of course not!” he exclaimed, sounding offended. “Avery, I would never deliberately hurt you…” he stopped speaking as he thought of his words. “I don’t know how I let it happen, or let it get as far as it did. There're no excuses for my actions. I can’t change what I did and I know that.”

“Then what? Are you trying to clear your guilty conscious?” My voice was hoarse and sounded distant. It no longer felt like my own.

“No... I mean... Maybe,” he paused to rethink his phrasing and begin again. “Before I left, or I guess while I was leaving, there was a box at her bedroom door.”

I just stared at him, confused. “A box?” I said; my tone was dry. He nodded.

“Yes. It was a box wrapped in this brown paper. There was no ribbon or note or anything with it. It only had her name scribbled at the top of it,” he said. I kept staring at him, still confused.

“Okay? So she got a package. So what?”

“That’s the thing though, Avery. It didn’t come through the mail or anything. There was no return address, and it didn’t even have her address on it. It was just her name. Like someone personally dropped it off,” he said. He seemed really freaked out.

“So maybe someone in her family left it there. Like her parents or her brother. They live there too, ya know.”

“No... I asked them about it the next day. They have never seen the box,” he answered, lowering his voice.

For a moment, he caught my attention. I tried to come up with other explanations for the box being there, but my mind felt like mush. I felt drained, emotionally and mentally. This box felt like such a minor detail, but the look on his face told me he was truly worried.

“What was inside of it?” I asked, after he stayed quiet for a moment.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “She wouldn’t tell me... She wouldn’t tell anybody. But she wasn’t the same after that.” I creased my eyebrows as I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.

“What does that mean?” I urged him. He was always terrible at storytelling and leaving out important details.

“She wasn’t acting like herself. Since she received this box, she went into this dark place in her mind. It was as though it sucked all the joy out of her. She cried so much and kept herself locked away most of the day.”

Thinking back to the previous weeks, I realized he was right. I wasn’t sure how I didn’t notice, but she seemed different. She was someone that I spoke to every single day since the second grade. However, the past week or so, It felt like I hardly saw or spoke to her. It was like our friendship was already on an unsteady leg before I caught them in bed together. I remembered her taking selfies for Instagram last week. Laura looked so down in most the photos. She covered it well with her glamour, and I honestly thought she was just posing for the photos. She was very photogenic, and I knew she wanted to be a model and an influencer. I thought little about those photos; but the more Keith said, the more I knew he was right.

“That night you caught us…” his tone was soft; he was trying not to upset me. “She spent the evening crying. Her mom said that she scheduled her for a therapy session. Laura kept saying she didn’t want to go; they kind of got into a heated argument. I got there by the end of the argument. But it ended with Laura in tears and locking herself in her room. When I was trying to comfort her, she threw herself at me. I told her I didn’t want to do anything while she was in this mental state. But she wouldn’t listen…”

“Is that your defense?” I scoffed. “That she raped you?”

“No!” He sounded offended. “I could have stopped her but chose not to. She insisted she was fine and when she kissed me…” he paused and met my eyes. “I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Why are you telling me this now, Keith?” I tried to keep the hurt out of my voice, and blinked away the tears building in my eyes. Was he trying to humiliate me? Was he messing with me?

“Because I want to be honest…” he told me. “Plus, it’s another example of her acting different. Laura would do nothing like that. Most of the time she was telling me how bad she felt for betraying you.”

“Avery!” Mrs. Carmichael interrupted as she stood in the doorway. “Are you coming?” Her voice was weak and cracked towards the end. I nodded to her.

“Just a minute,” I called back to her.

I turned back to Keith; he stood there looking sheepish. He was no longer looking at me; his eyes were fixated on the ground again. I didn’t know what more there was to say, but I was also interested in hearing more about this box.

“I have to go,” I told him with a sigh. I felt defeated, and I was truly exhausted. “Can we talk more about this later?"

"Okay..." he responded. He sounded as defeated as I felt.

"Keith?" I called to him before walking away. "What do you think was inside this box?”

I watched his face transform into what seemed very ghost like. It was as though he was there, but not there. Transparent. His mind was so distant and the look in his eyes were faded.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered. He was trying to choose his next words carefully. “But whatever it was… I think is the reason she’s dead.”

To be continued… (Maybe)