Wednesday 23rd December.
The gun falls out of his hands.
A runs into him, gripping his slowly-falling body.
They both disappear over the edge.
Together.
Black.
Dark.
Empty.
Void.
Empty.
Dark.
Black.
A – are you aware your face is glowing? ~ I miss your laugh.
"Melly – wake up. You're oversleeping! You're going to be late, Silly"
I miss you.
"Didn't think you were a lazy-ass Bum Mel – get up already. Shift!"
I miss you guys...
My eyes slam open; I stare, wide eyed, at the first thing I see. A hesitant face. One that isn't sure what my reaction will be. I register large and slightly intruding face as Rod's and smile lightly.
"It's err...cutting it a bit fine. But I thought you could do with the rest, you know?" I nod.
"So err... You have an hour. I'll...i'll be downstairs" He's dressed up nicely already, making the effort with some nice smelling (but strong) cologne, a very smart black suit, and even shiny shoes. The shades were on his head though. He really did look like a Mafia Man. I chuckle to myself, waiting for him to shut the door behind him as he leaves. As soon as he has, I take a big breath in and hold it before blowing it out slowly.
Today's the day. Just because I said goodbye to them physically, didn't mean I would have to spiritually. The firm belief that I'll see them no matter where I go remains strong in my heart; the funeral isn't going to be a morbid cry-fest. More of a remembrance.
I wake up in my silk duvet-covered, four-poster-double-bed in my overly large room. All appears well. I stare at the white ceiling for a moment, thinking of the plan for the day.
This time, I actually know.
I get out of the comfortable bed and press the button on my bedside table automatically. The curtains split slowly with a slight and barely audible hum, letting in the very-near-Christmas weather. It's raining, but it fits. Somehow, I think BB would be disappointed if it was sunshine-and-rainbows. I get the feeling it'll be raining when I go to bed tonight too.
Though, I bet anything its cold out there. I glance out the ceiling-to-floor windows that spread across the whole of the one wall and check out the view. The city-scape is still there, the park that I've never been to but meant to, is still there. I still make a mental note to go there, with the vague idea that I actually might, before I, too, die.
Stretching, I flex my muscles and sigh with content. Washed, dressed, breakfast, find Rod. That would do for the next half an hour, at most. Nodding, I take note of my clothing, the black shirt and trousers laid carefully over my desk-chair. Before I touch it, my hand carefully raises to my rosary, still reassuring myself that it's still around my neck. It gives me a shudder of comfort, a sense of confidence and a boost of energy. I make my way to the ensuite bathroom for a shower, blow-drying my hair – for quickness – and making my way into the corridor with hesitation.
I secretly panic. I want the day to go swiftly, in a happy and not-despair-filled way. I think I might punch the first person to say "im so sorry for your loss", because anyone who knew A and BB would know that that kind of thing was not to be said at their funeral.
Luckily, Rod is waiting for me. Stood as I remembered at the very beginning of September; my first day back at school. He smiles at me encouragingly, nodding at my attire.
"You brush up well"
"As do you" I smile and he smiles back, albeit awkwardly. I suddenly wonder something; "What was the last funeral you went to? Who was it for?" We begin moving down the corridor and down the stairs. I hear Misa talking downstairs; it sounds rehearsed. I hope she wont ruin this for me. For Them. I turn to Rod, realising he hasn't given me an answer. He walks ahead.
I realise he's not going to give me one.
Disguising the hurt and slightly rejected feeling I now have, I allow Misa to make me burnt toast for breakfast under the agreement that I would get a Hot Chocolate as normal, none of her smoothie-shit. Her toast comes back only slightly-burnt, and the Hot Chocolate is adequate.
By quarter to nine, we're all ready to leave for the Church. Everyone in The Family is dressed in suits, looking more suspicious than ever. I inwardly laugh at this, but I'm glad they're making the effort. It makes me happy for some reason, even if they didn't personally know A or BB, they were taking the time to note that I did. That I cared. And if it's important to me, it's important to them. Because that's what family is. Misa scoots in the Limo with me and Rod and Skyar, the rest going in convoy in their own expensive cars.
"You look nice" I compliment Misa on her black attire; normally, I wouldn't, for she wore black most days, but today, there was something about it that was nice. No doubt, it was a new dress. With a bit of white lace for sensible reasons, and a little longer than normal for respectful reasons (hello, Church). The black ribbons in her hair were also very nice.
"Thank you. You don't look half-bad yourself" I take it as a compliment, unaware that my fingers were fumbling over each other in nervousness, unaware that I was holding my breath for long seconds, unaware that I was shaking until she leaned over and hugged me.
Then I did the most pathetic thing ever.
I hugged her back.
Then bawled my eyes out, uncontrollably, in front of both Skyar and Rod.
The service is perfect. Father Smith does it perfectly, making it light hearted and not dull, not exactly cheery, but not morbid. It is perfect. It doesn't bother me that not all of the pews are full, that barely half are filled on only one side. It's OK, because I know that the ones that did come were the ones that cared. Because I know that any more than this would be the fakers, the ones that think it's funny, that think it's cool. I spot Oli and his friends, waving slightly. I don't have time to greet them before the service, but I make a mental note to do so at the Wake. It's still raining, even after the service. There's quite a few black umbrellas, and Misa begins to think that wearing black is too morbid and deathly; she's decided on Yellow for her funeral. Nonetheless, I tell her to think of the many umbrellas as Flowers; She seems content after that.
We head out to the graveyard, some of the Family's strongest men offering to carry the coffins. I resist the urge to bawl again, even resorting to holding Misa's hand as we walked the short distance from the church to the graveyard. Father Smith says a few more words; he keeps it short for time's sake – he's wise enough to know that people now-a-days don't often respect the length of these things. But his words are chosen correctly, and I'm grateful. They begin to lower their coffins in, side by side. Misa made an impractical joke about one being ontop of the other, and the issues of power struggle and dominance – we got into a mini-debate about their uhm...sexual roles? Misa's argument was that because A was the weaker one in life, he should be 'on top' in death. My argument was to leave it all alone; I didn't really want to think about it. We decided on putting them equally, mutually, respectfully side by side, and Father Smith agreed. For a Father, he didn't seem too offended that he was burying two male Lovers in his church. I respected that of him. Their coffins sink lower and lower, and I'm suddenly aware that now is my time to speak.
Originally, I wasn't going to say anything, but being the literature freak I can sometimes be, I thought it best that I say something. So I head to the mini-podium and alter the mic.
"So...err... They weren't exactly a conventional pair" I begin, the written speech I had pre-planned feeling heavy in my shirt pocket. I leave it there. "I can't really describe one, without offending the other. Describing them as a pair, a couple - ...it's hard. I could say they were mischievous, but anyone who knew A knew that he was anything but. I could say they were quiet, and kept to themselves, but we all know that BB was the least discrete person in our lives. I could say they were perfect – but they weren't. Nobody is. They were lovers, though. Something special that just happened, they were it. Together, they were something that fate seemed to want to happen, so..." My voice breaks, the throbbing in my chest returning, the stinging in my eyes overtaking my brain. "They were lovers. They were friends, they were family. They are an influence on my life – they always will be" I choke, briefly wondering if there's anything I missed.
Smile, you fucker.
"But...they wouldn't want us to be sad, right? I'm pretty sure BB would come back and haunt us all if he knew we were crying our own river" I was pleased that the majority of people laughed. It lightened the mood. "They had their struggles; they had their tough times. Lets hope that they're completely free of those now...wherever it is they may be" I nod and leave my speech at that, moving back to Rod as they finish lowering their coffins down. Oli comes over, tapping my shoulder awkwardly.
"Dont take this the wrong way" He jokes, handing me two red roses. I grin.
"Thanks Oli" He nods to the graves and I almost tear up again. I Smile, grateful, allowed the privilege of being the first to put one on both their coffins before they are buried. I sigh as the cotton-y feeling builds up in my chest again. Somewhere, a CD is playing a poem that I recognise from one of my literature books.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
I put one rose on BB's, it falling light a weightless cloud onto his black-wood Coffin.
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
See you around, BB.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
I move to A's, the white-wood coffin a stark contrast to BB's. I drop it.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
Stay safe, A.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
Goodbye, you guys.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
I move along. Oli has given everyone two Roses, one for each. Rod is behind me, just having done the same. We move aside and watch the others and I catch a glimpse of Skyar and a video camera. A part of me thinks it's a good idea, but the other half worries. I sigh again.
"Your dad" Rod suddenly says, stubbing the front of his shoe into the ground and putting his hands in the pockets of his blazer. It takes me a minute to realise. "His was the last funeral I went to" I link my arm through his; I don't know what to say, so I hope the action will do it for me. A while later, I catch up with Oli and his friends.
"So...what's the plan now then?" Oli asks. "Obviously you're going to take time off or something"
"I-...im not going back to school" I say it before I think about it seriously. I'venot even considered it, not thought about it or given it any piece of my mind. But the decision feels like a good one. "At least...not here"
"You gonna' move?" He asks.
"I would" One of the others, Becky – I think, says. I smile.
"Probably"
"Any idea where?"
"Maybe..." A plan begins to form in my head, but I don't know for sure. "I'll keep in touch. I have your emails"
Back at the house, Chef – along with Halle and Misa's organising skills – has created a lovely set up with a CD of weird but comforting music. About half way through, near two o'clock, the doorbell rings and I spy a couple of police officers looking around for Rod, presumably. He spies them at the same time as I do, and we head over.
"Mr Ross, Mello" One greets us. "Sorry for the intrusion...really" I shrug.
"If it's good news then it's fine" He shifts awkwardly, and I get the feeling that there was something that maybe we missed.
"We found this" He hands me an envelope and I flip it over.
In A's delicate scrawl is written 'When you're ready, Melly'. Touching it, there's something more than paper in there, and it feels like a CD. But damned if I'm ready to open it.
"There's also this" He gives me another envelope. "It's a permission letter; it permits you to go back to their place and take anything you'd like to keep; you can decide what to do with their belongings"
"Is there a time limit?" Rod asks. "Cause he aint' going right now – and it's a little close to Christmas, you know?"
"Of course" The officer says. "You have two months to do so" I nod and they leave. Collecting their things is going to be severely hard.
"You'll come with me, wont you?" I ask Rod. "I don't want to go alone"
"Sure Mel, I'm comin'" I smile and we integrate back into the Wake, the police incident and the letter being forgotten for the time being.