The limousine glided through the mist like a ship in a harbour. If it had been daytime, people would have pointed and maybe even waved, but 5 am was too early to recognize a small town celebrity. The passenger of the long black car was glad that no one was up; he had made the early trip on purpose. No one would see him drive off, without a goodbye or even a tear. No one would see his tears.

The woman beside him adjusted the strap of one of her red sandals. A sash was missing from her obviously designer dress, or had it even been there? He could not remember. She opened her sequined purse and pulled out a lipstick, applied it, and carefully replaced it. She sighed. He was being too quiet, she thought. But she knew why.

They had gone to school together their whole lives. Though they had not always been friends, they always seemed to find each other, and last night had been no different. She hated seeing him this way, but it was the way he had been for many years. Two years ago she had gone to Los Angeles to visit him. He seemed happy, almost as if he had forgotten the whole thing altogether, but she should have known better. Three months after her visit, his attempted suicide was all over the news. His maid had walked in on him on the floor, pill bottles and blood all over the carpet. She had called 911, and he lived to see another pain filled two years, with scars on his wrists to prove it. And now his ten year class reunion. She had half expected him not to show up. But he came, a model on each arm and obviously drunk. Years of alcoholism and heartbreak showed on his face.

“Dan.” she said “Go see her.”. He looked into her eyes and she thought she saw tears, but he turned away. “Stop the car.” he said. He got out, lit up a cigarette, and stood there for a while, smoking in silence. She peered out of the car at the man who was only half of himself, feeling sorry for him. He got back into the car, spoke to the driver, and then sat back down next to her. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Margaret.”

The car started to move again, but it didn’t drive towards the highway. Instead it took a dusty old road, up a hill, to a church overlooking the ocean below. A rusty iron fence bordered a cemetery filled with crooked white crosses, and leaning tombstones. He got out of the car and walked to the far corner of the cemetery. It was a beautiful cemetery, unlike most. It was high up on a cliff and overlooked the ocean for miles. The sun had started to peek through the mist. It looked as if it would be a sunny day after all. He walked up to a headstone. It looked as if it had been taken care of very well. A bouquet of wilted flowers lay across it. He moved them, and read the name. He said it over and over in his mind before finally closing his eyes and whispering it out loud “Eliza”. A wind swept over his face. “Dan.” He turned around. A woman stood there. She was more beautiful than he remembered. Her black hair fell on her shoulders in curls, and her blue-green eyes stared at him lovingly. One hand was on her stomach. She was 7 months pregnant. He walked over to her and caressed her face. He didn’t want to believe it was her, just encase he had to lose her again. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, but she pulled away. “I’m sorry I left, I never should have gone. I should have realized that you were more important than anything. I should never have listened to that man. I…the crash…the baby…” She started to walk towards the ocean, but stopped at the edge of the cliff. “None of that matters.” she said. She smiled into his face.

A truck driver was the first to the scene of the accident. Right away he called 911 on his cell phone. He went up to the car. It was too late for the driver. He was pinned against the steering wheel, his head rested on a picture of his late wife. He went around the side of the car and opened the door. A woman in a red dress turned to him. Her head was bleeding, but other than that she seemed fine. It was the man she was next to who needed the most help. He was laid out on the seat, and the woman had his head cradled in her lap. He was mumbling and his breath was shallow, he was obviously dying. “Have you called for help?” she asked, and the truck driver nodded. She leaned closer to his face, trying to hear what he was saying. “Margaret” he whispered “I’m going to see her.”