Free Miss Me Not by Tiffany King

Mitch.
    Dean and I were separated as mourners from both tents crowded together. I held back on the fringes, taking my opportunity when I was sure no one was watching to leave the graveside and head for the main road outside the gates, still clutching the white daisy in my hand. Once I hit the sidewalk, I picked up my pace, anxious to put as much space as I could between me and the scene I had just fled. I was thankful that the rain had finally relented. Multiple puddles left my shoes and the hem of my dress soaking wet as I splashed along in my haste to get away. A block from the cemetery, a transit bus pulled up to a stop near me and I gratefully hopped on. I fed a couple dollar bills into the machine at the front and sank down in the seat behind the driver. My knees bounced anxiously up and down as I silently urged the bus to move faster. I had one destination in mind and I was antsy to get there.
    After a ten-minute ride, we finally arrived. I hurried down the bus steps and crossed the street without slowing down. My head was fuzzy and my chest pounded. My labored breathing became more and more erratic. I felt like a ticking time bomb on the verge of exploding. Finally reaching my destination, I sank down on the sodden grass, not caring about the back of my dress that was getting soaked through. I looked up at the branches of my tree, willing my breathing to return back to normal. The day's events were a jumbled mess in my head. Dean's sudden interest in me became crystal clear. He obviously felt a great deal of guilt over Mitch's death and had decided to make me his pet project. I guess he felt he had failed his friend and could somehow make amends for that by saving me. What he didn't realize was that Mitch had already done that.
    Mitch. If there really is a Heaven or hell, is he sitting there now, aware of the profound way he has suddenly affected my life? Did he believe as I did that he could leave this world without anyone caring, like a disappearing shadow? It's cryptic, but I wish I could talk to him now to ask him if he could go back in time, would he do it again, knowing how much he was missed? I wondered now about my own legacy. Would I really be missed? Would Dean miss me? I looked down at the flower that was still clutched in my hand and began plucking off the petals. "Miss me, miss me not."
    I lost track of time in my sanctuary, watching the petals float away in the gentle breeze. My hair was fanned out on the cold wet ground beneath me, but I was too emotionally spent to move. I wished I hadn't left my sweater on my chair at the cemetery, but I could deal with physical discomfort. I wasn't surprised when I heard a set of footsteps on the sidewalk heading toward me. I had been expecting him. He already knew me well enough that I would seek out the refuge that was his. It was time to nip this in the bud. Once he realized he didn't need to save me, he could walk away. Our relationship would fizzle out before it ever started. It would be better that way.

Chapter Eight
     
     
    "Nice disappearing act," he said, sitting beside me on the damp grass.
    I sat up and studied him. His eyes were still red and slightly swollen. I could have offered comfort, but it would have defeated my plan.
    "Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.
    He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess because I was ashamed to admit I let him down," he finally said.
    "It was his decision."
    "I could have changed his mind."
    "How? By reverting back to a friendship that died years ago?" I said harshly, needing him to understand that he didn't hold the cards.
    He reared back at my words like I had sucker-punched him. "Maybe," he finally answered.
    "It wouldn't have fixed the hole in him," I said, suddenly agitated as I stood up and started pacing back and forth.
    "How do you know? It might have helped. At least he would have had someone he could talk to," he said almost angrily, jumping to his feet also. "Having someone to lean on has to help."
    "Having someone to