-2-
Jennie looked lovely at Don’s funeral. God forgive me—that’s what I kept noticing. There I was, hearing a minister explain how this was all for the best and beyond anything we could understand. There I was, trying not to look at a box that held the crushed remains of my best friend. Don was gone, I didn’t want to be there, and Jennie looked lovely.
Jennie was near the front, across the aisle and several rows ahead of me. She was wearing a simple dress that draped her body and clung to it in ways that made me want to reach out and run my hand against the fabric.
I forced myself to look away from her. Don was dead. I still couldn’t believe that my best buddy had lost a game of tag with a truck right in front of my eyes.
A flicker of motion drew my attention. Jennie had tossed her head slightly, throwing her black hair from her shoulders. In the sunshine streaming through the church windows, her hair seemed both to gleam and to swallow the light. It was a hypnotic mix, absorbing and reflecting the beams in ways that made my mouth grow dry. It was almost as if sunlight existed only so Jennie could bathe in it.
Around me, everyone was rising to sing a hymn. The church was filled with adults and with Don’s friends from school. The air was thick with the scent of too many flowers. We all lifted our voices and sang about crossing one last river. Maybe that was a poor choice of hymns, but nobody seemed to notice. I snuck another glance at Jennie, watching her throat move as she joined in. Her neck was smooth and soft. There were too many voices for me to pick hers out, but I suspected it was like honey and stardust.
I looked at the coffin. My mind knit a scene where the polished wooden box suddenly flew open. Don, badly put back together by an undertaker who knew it would be a closed-casket service, sat up and said, “One more chance. I know I can make it. And this time, you’re coming with me, pal.” He pointed at me, one finger extending from the mush that had been his hand. Then he put the hand on the edge of the coffin and stepped out.
I shook my head, physically trying to fling the image from my mind. It flew off, but I knew others would come to fill the space. I knew all too well that my mind would never run dry of horrors.
We sat and bowed our heads in prayer. As the words slipped from my lips, memories of Don glided through my mind. He was always so cautious. When we went through town, he crossed the street rather than walk past the wrong gang. He checked the air pressure in his tires more often than anyone on the planet. Now he was dead. But I envied his life. Quiet, careful Don had been dating Jennie. They’d gone out for two months, almost from the time Jennie had come to our school.
Head still bowed, I opened my eyes a slit and looked in her direction. I wondered if she’d ever worn that dress on a date with Don. What would it be like to touch those shoulders? How would it feel to hold her hand?
I envied him, and I felt awful about it. That was the last thing I needed. I already felt awful about the funeral. I’d almost stayed home. At the first sight of the coffin, it took all my strength not to turn and run from the church. The funeral gave my mind too much to play with. And there was worse ahead. Far worse. I knew it was crazy. What kind of person is scared of a graveyard in the middle of the day?
My kind, I guess.
That’s my dark secret. I don’t know how or why I’d gotten this way. If I look back at my childhood, I can remember things and people and events, but I can’t recall feelings—not with any clarity. Somewhere along the line, I picked up a lot of fear. I didn’t like it. But I couldn’t help it. Stories I’d read or movies I’d seen stayed in my mind. Scenes of the dead rising terrified me, scenes of familiar people turning into monsters haunted me. Whenever I was alone with a friend at night, I’d almost see him shift and change into something hungry for my flesh. Walking down a dark street, I could hear the creatures stalking me. I avoided mirrors and basements.
The tales of Poe, tales of being buried alive, entered my mind at the oddest moments. I’d imagine the school collapsing on me, burying me in rubble, leaving me scratching weakly at my prison, unheard by the rescuers who passed inches from my dying body. I’d feel my heart speed up when I went past the construction sight on the south side of town, imagining a thousand ways I might slip into the pit and be suffocated by an avalanche of dirt. Buried forever beneath the new supermarket.
The prayer ended. We raised our heads. The minister spoke more words. We rose and filed out. I watched Jennie. She walked up to Nick Ferrano, the class clown. Nick was behaving himself—no jokes today. I would have ripped his heart out myself if he’d tried to be funny. But he was as torn up as the rest of us.
Jennie said something to Nick. He said something to her. She put her hand on his arm for a moment, just the lightest touch, almost like someone reaching for a box of cookies in a store but not yet sure if it was the one she wanted. Another twinge of envy flashed through me as I turned away from them and left the church.
Don’s parents were outside, looking lost. I didn’t know what to say. I imagine nobody knew what to say. We filed past and shook their hands and most of the girls cried, and most of the guys cried but tried to pretend that they didn’t.
It was awful.
After I reached the parking lot, I watched Jennie walk to her car. She looked just as good from the back. The black fabric swirled around her calves, weaving a spell over me. She was giving Nick a ride.
I went to my own car and pulled in line with the rest of people. The cemetery wasn’t far. After I parked and turned off the engine, I sat where I was, staring at the rows of headstones and wishing I’d never stumbled across late-night commercials for all of those low-budget zombie movies. My mind filled with scenes of hands pushing through the ground, bursting free of the graves. I wondered if I could slip away, or slink down in the seat until the funeral was over.
Nobody seemed to notice me. I sat, building up the nerve to watch them put the coffin in the ground. Jennie and Nick walked up the path to the grave site. Even from a distance, she stood out, a vision painfully lovely in this cold field of death.
The graveside ceremony started.
I watched from the car.
The waiting hole swallowed the casket. And then, it was over. The crowd broke slowly. A few wandered off, a few more straggled away, then a large clump moved toward the parking lot.
One old man stared at me. The woman with him whispered something. I could almost read her lips. “That was Don’s best friend,” she was saying. The man nodded. They must have thought I was too overcome with grief to leave my car.
And that was it. Goodbye, Don. Sorry I didn’t watch the end, but we were together for a lot of good stuff.
– End Chapter Two –
