The engineer paused, lowering his head. I watched him as he stared at snowflakes evaporating upon the street's surface. Looking up, the engineer continued. "She tried to get out. She did, she tried to get out. She ran out of time. She just ran out of time. I closed my eyes when the car slipped under my sight line. I cringed when I felt the crash." The engineer returned to his study of the melting snowflakes.
"What are we going to tell Diane?" Steve asked. We were sitting in his car at the intersection of Cemetery and Bainbridge Streets. We both stared at the darkened house at the end of Cemetery Street.
"Shannie burbled." I said.
"She what?" Steve asked.
"She burbled. She did something too good. She was so good she got herself killed." In short sequence, all the lights inside the house at the end of Cemetery Street sprung to life. I groaned.
"She knows," Steve sighed. "Man, her life just changed. Fuck."
I glanced at Steve as his car crept towards Diane's driveway. I wasn't comfortable with our charge, but Steve was right, besides providing whatever comfort we could, we had to stop Diane from seeing the carnage that claimed her daughter. God knows I regretted stumbling upon the scene.
"You know how she's going to react," I told Steve as we approached the front door. "I don't know if I can handle this." Pausing, I took a deep breath before knocking.
The door swung open. I fell upon my heels as I met Diane's eyes. Hers was Shannie's face, but aged, more weather beaten. Shock deepened the crow's feet aside Diane's green eyes, which were dull and bloodshot. "James," she sighed, her dry lips quivering under her thin nose. As we embraced her blond hair cascaded over the front of her shoulders. Through my tears I noticed that even their hair smelled similar. Diane pulled me tighter to her chest, itself heaving with sobs. She rested her head upon my shoulder. In every way, Mother and daughter seemed similar, even how they climbed the short flight of stairs and floated across the kitchen floor. Only in the eternal absence of one did I gain this understanding of the other. At that moment I realized I could no longer live in Beyford. I loved Diane like a mother, but I couldn't exist near this living, breathing reminder of Shannie. She was already a haunting replica of who Shannie could have been.
It didn't take much convincing on Steve's part to dissuade Diane from journeying to the scene or viewing Shannie's remains. "She wouldn't have wanted me to see her like that," Diane whispered hoarsely. "You know, I always had this feeling, this feeling that something would happen to her. She was always so carefree, terribly carefree. Reckless."