Pulse of Heroes (71 page)

“Actually, that’s what we suspected,” her
father said in-between bites of melted cheese. “What are you
getting at?” he asked, puzzled as to why Michelle seemed so
concerned.

Her mother tried to make her feel better. “It
was old anyway. We needed a new one. There were no photos on that
card except the ones…” her mom stopped in mid-sentence.

“The ones you took of Elliot and me! The ones
from the prom!” Michelle said in anger. Now Samantha understood why
Michelle was so upset. She remembered that she and Elliot had left
the event early and never gotten their picture taken by the hired
photographer.

“Oh my God Michelle! Were those the only
photos you had from the prom?” her mother asked, already putting
her hand on Michelle’s for support. Michelle looked sadly at her
pizza and shoved her plate away. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t
even think about that. Did you not have any other photos taken
together?” she asked, looking at Samantha hopefully. Michelle
thought about the evening that Elliot came to pick her up and how
happy she was, he was.

“I can try and see if any of my pictures have
you guys in them,” Samantha tried to cheer her friend up. Michelle
asked if they had tried to call the airline.

“Actually, your father did, but unfortunately
the plane had already taken off on a return trip back to
Philadelphia. We even got a call the next day telling us that they
asked the young men who sat in our seats when they exited the
plane. But they didn’t see it. I’m so sorry baby. I know it’s not
the same but I can take more photos of you in that lovely dress.”
Michelle looked at her mother as if she were speaking a different
language.

“And am I supposed to get Elliot here too and
have him model his tux again?” her voice was shaking. Samantha
looked at Michelle with pity. No matter how bad she felt for her
friend, she couldn’t help her, and she knew how touchy Michelle was
about Elliot so she said nothing. Michelle’s mother scooted her
chair next to Michelle’s and put her hand on her knee.

“Michelle, did something happen with that
boy? Are you still talking to him?” she inquired gently. Michelle
didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say. How could she
tell her mother that she was still in touch with him, and had in
fact spent two action-packed days in Transylvania with him by her
side? But of course only after they slew a dragon, rammed a stake
through Dracula’s heart, and chopped off the head of an immortal
menace with delusions of grandeur?

“We still e-mail,” she lied. Her mom took the
bait, but not Samantha, who just stared at Michelle with an open
mouth. Michelle gestured at her not to say anything.

“Well,” her mother said, “he seemed like a
very nice young man. Very handsome and proper. I don’t see a
problem with that. You could have told me that you had feelings for
him. I’m always here for you.” Michelle looked at her poor mom and
wondered how could she ever meld her two worlds together?

Who would have thought that she would need to
own a dress for funerals this early in her life? Michelle sat in
the back of the car and tried to remove Crumb’s fine hairs from the
black fabric. “I’m very sad,” she said without getting overly
emotional. She had cried a river already, and she wanted to
maintain her composure at long as she could. Her father was only
half awake, jet-lagged behind the wheel while her mom sipped tea
from a travel mug. “I feel like I should be driving her to church
today. This all feels so wrong to me,” Michelle commented dryly.
Her parents tried to console her as best they knew how to. But
death was something that everyone has to deal with, and everyone
deals with it differently. Her mom told her about losing her own
grandmother, and her father recounted how he lost his favorite
uncle to cancer when he was just a small boy. Michelle understood
that she was not the only one in the world that had ever mourned,
but she still felt as if no one understood her. She had been told
time and time again that there was nothing she could have done
differently to prevent Francesca’s passing, but no matter how well
she understood that in her head, she still didn’t feel it. She was
sure that it had something to do with her. Maybe it was the ‘gypsy
blood’ Eranka told her about. Michelle wondered if Eranka had been
talking about
The Pulse
without even knowing it. Was that
what she was experiencing now; that deep inside inkling about
something that she couldn’t explain. Was that
The Pulse
running through her veins?

There were a few cars in the church parking
lot, and Michelle recognized them from all the other times she had
been there with Francesca. It was going to be another beautiful
summer day she thought, looking up at the sky while walking down
the narrow pathway. The grass along the edges was still wet from
the early morning sprinklers. She wished it were raining and
miserable. It wasn’t fair that Francesca would miss such a glorious
morning. Michelle felt as if God was mocking her. She knew that
people would be looking at her; she was sure that some of them
thought she was Francesca’s granddaughter. She would have been
proud if she were. But still, to avoid too much attention, Michelle
wore her hair down around her face; maybe it would hide her from
all the sympathetic eyes. It didn’t work. People started coming up
to her with their condolences and, just as she had feared, the
tears reappeared.

Michelle was moved by how many people
actually knew her by name. Everyone was speaking about Ms.
Bianchetti; the hum of her name resonating inside the church
sounded like a prayer. It was her day. When Michelle’s parents
recognized that their daughter had formed relationships with many
of the parishioners, they began to understand that she was growing
up and apart from them. They sat in one of the back pews and
watched their daughter as she made her way to her usual seat.

“She’ll be gone soon,” her father remarked
sadly.

“What will we do when we’re alone?” her mom
asked, a little scared. “Look at her. She has her own life, her own
circle of friends, young and old, and these are people that she’s
never even spoken about.” Her mother was proud. Michelle was now a
young woman and no longer her little girl.

“She matured a lot this year,” her father
said with concern. “Seems like it all happened so quickly.”

The church bells chimed again, letting
everyone know that the services were about to begin. Michelle sat
on the hard cold bench and for the first time realized what it felt
like to physically miss Francesca sitting next to her. She was
lonely, sitting there in a room full of people who knew Francesca
too. It didn’t seem to matter. The empty space on the bench next to
her was angry, as if blaming Michelle that his friend was no longer
there. She wondered if the chances of a miracle happening in a
church were higher than anywhere else? How likely was it that
Francesca would suddenly show up like an angel and start talking to
her? Michelle wondered if she had completely lost her mind.

No one sat next to Michelle. She suspected
that they did that out of respect, to give her room to mourn, but
in all honesty it felt horrible. She felt so small on the long
wooden bench, and her back felt like it was going to catch on fire
from everyone staring at her. Michelle feared that she might start
screaming, but she was held in check by the weight of everyone’s
eyes. They expected her to behave, to be strong, and not to
disappoint Francesca. She was Francesca’s friend, and she knew that
she was in heaven. That was faith. Still, she wondered, if that was
so, then why did it feel like they all wanted her to consol them?
She needed the consoling. Everything was backwards. Michelle looked
in her small purse for a tissue. Oh no, she left them in the
car.

When Michelle’s father saw a tall young man
approaching the pew that his daughter sat in he knew right away
that it was the same guy they had met in Zurich. His instinct was
to stand up so he could keep an eye on her, but Michelle’s mother
put her hand on his knee.

“Let her be. It’s her friend. Trust her,” she
said quietly as she watched her husband take a deep breath to calm
himself.

Rion knew exactly where Michelle would be,
and when he saw her little figure sitting alone he felt her
emptiness. He knew exactly what she had been through in the last
few days, and worried that one seventeen year old girl shouldn’t be
forced to carry all of it on her own. He was actually surprised
that she hadn’t snapped yet, and sat directly behind her, leaning
forward while everybody else watched.

“You think you could use some company?” he
whispered in her ear. Michelle turned around and Rion saw her tears
clinging to her lower lashes. She smiled at him and nodded her
head. By the time that Rion made his way around to sit next to her,
the tears were down her cheeks. She was happy he was there. He sat
on the opposite side from where Francesca would have sat and pulled
out a handkerchief. “I came prepared,” he said, handing it to her.
Michelle thanked him. After dabbing her tears away she took a deep
breath and whispered that she needed a vacation.

“Somewhere nice, tropical, with coconut
trees, a hammock, an ocean breeze,” she smiled in sadness. Rion put
his arm around her and Michelle leaned her head on him. He told her
to be careful what she wished for and stroked her hair with
affection.

The service took longer than usual, and when
it was finally over Michelle stood with Rion at the front steps of
the church and scanned the thinning crowd for her parents. Rion
pointed them out to her, off to the side conversing with Xander.
“Is Elliot back?” she asked without looking up.

“Yes,” he answered in the same flat tone.

“Is he all right?”

“Better then ever,” Rion replied, but said no
further on the matter. He knew that Elliot’s condition was
uncertain because although Devin had been able to successfully
remove some of the poisoned tissue, there was no telling if the
toxin would continue to spread. There was a possibility that the
procedure was going to have to be repeated, but Elliot didn’t seem
to care as long as he was healthy enough to take care of Michelle.
“Aren’t those your friends?” Rion asked, pointing to Samantha and
James who had just showed up and seemed lost amongst the
churchgoers. Michelle called Samantha’s name and when she and James
approached, Rion took his leave and went over to join Xander who
was now talking to some other people.

Francesca Bianchetti had made sure that
everything was taken care of. From the simple casket with the large
cross on it, to the headstone that already stood next to her dear
husband’s grave. She didn’t want anything too fancy, she told the
vicar. The sight of the coffin shocked Michelle, even though she
had expected it to be there. “I can’t believe she’s really dead,”
Michelle whispered, feeling as if her legs were about to give out.
James caught her before she fell and the three of them stood in
place for a few seconds while Michelle caught her breath.

“Should we go get your mom?” a concerned
Samantha asked.

“No, I’m all right.” Michelle straightened
herself up. “I can do this. I know she’s not really in there.”

Elliot watched as Michelle’s friends walked
arm in arm with her towards the gravesite. That was the natural
order of things. She was there with others like her, others that
loved her and cared for her. When he saw Michelle stumble it took
all the discipline he had not to rush to her side. He knew that his
presence would only distract her from what was really important,
saying goodbye to a friend, but he also couldn’t stay away from
her. He knew better than anyone what she had been through, and was
very worried about her. He felt that he had failed her because he
never got the chance to tell her personally about her friend’s
death, a death that he blamed himself for. He couldn’t make peace
with what he had done to the poor girl’s life. He tried to get a
better look at Michelle’s face so he could judge her emotional
state, but she was wearing big sunglasses, which he understood to
mean that her eyes were swollen from crying.

Elliot had seen Michelle cry more than he had
ever wanted to, and all he wanted to do now was to make her happy
and make up for everything. He watched as she took her place
between her parents and his grandson, thinking that right there
those two people were the only ones he really cared about. He loved
Xander and hated to watch him age. How many more years would he be
by his side before he found himself all alone once again?

Xander put his arm around Michelle’s shoulder
and squeezed it lightly. He was glad to see her back home, he told
her. Michelle looked at him, wondering how much he knew about
everything that had taken place. Was Elliot somewhere around?
Michelle felt guilty that her mind wandered away from Francesca. He
had to be there, she thought, watching as Rion laid a bouquet on
Francesca’s casket. Mr. Meyers from the market was also present; he
and his wife had donated the flower arrangements as a gift. After a
few prayers in Latin, the priest asked if anyone else had anything
to say about Francesca and all eyes turned to Michelle. She had not
planned on talking. In fact, she had never been to a funeral
before. What was she supposed to say? She scanned the hopeful
faces, and Rion gave her an assuring smile that said, ‘You can do
this.’ Could she? Michelle wondered, looking over at the trees that
separated the church grounds from the parking lot, as if she would
find the answer there. Elliot wondered if she had picked up on his
presence. Was she searching for him? He smiled at her even though
he knew she couldn’t see him. He was proud of her. She had survived
a horrible ordeal that most people wouldn’t. She was stronger than
she knew. Michelle was stronger than any of them knew.