Between visitors we compared notes and sipped warm cider. When the doorbell rang, we rushed to our spots. All except Shannie, she never left the coffin.
My heart raced as Diane played the first cords. Waiting for my cue, I savored being close to Shannie. I felt the table shake as she shifted in the coffin. The light fragrance of her perfume waltzed with the candle's aroma. It was erotic.
I dreamt about a future with Shannie. What it would be like to be unencumbered by parents or school. I pictured us holding hands, making out, making love. I imagined her grown up and how beautiful she would be, even more beautiful than Diane. I imagined our special day, Shannie in her wedding dress, flowers in her hair. We were dancing, her eyes reflecting my smile.
"You've never looked so beautiful Shannie," a familiar voice said.
The music stopped. I was brought back to the present.
Diane's voice acquired the edge of a knife. "If you ever set foot in this house again it'll be the sorriest day of your life!"
I scrambled from beneath the table in time to see the owner of the voice in Count's headlock being drug down the stairs and out the door. Diane yelled as she ran down the steps after them, "Don't hurt him, too bad." I stood over Shannie who laid still in the coffin. Despite closed eyes, a tear sliced her makeup.