Ari's Funeral

By: Edna Baudelaire

Oneshot Number: 4

Note: A friend of mine just passed away yesterday, Tuesday August 10, 2010. He was only 2 years older than myself. He taught me everything I know about performing and dance. He opened that door of opportunity for me, and without him, it would still be closed. Everything I'm feeling is building up inside, and the only way to let it out is to write. Hope you enjoy this one. I dedicate this oneshot to Randal Hilton, who dances in Heaven as we speak.

Iggy's POV

I hate funerals, I thought as I adjusted the jacket of the monkey suit Max forced me to wear. It was tight in all the wrong places and incredibly itchy. Fang nudged my arm swiftly, mumbling something about staying still. But I couldn't. Even though I was blind, the harsh morning sun still filtered in through my eyelids, searing my sightless irises. There was absolutely no breeze, nothing to ease the heat. The small beads of sweat slowly rolled down my face, into my eyes, my mouth.

I was drowning.

At a dead man's funeral.

I coughed lightly, brushing away the drops of sweat, tugging on my collar which seemed way tighter than it did when Fang first put it on. I couldn't breath. The air outside held no oxygen. I gasped for air, but couldn't find any.

"I need a tissue," Total said, trotting over towards Max's general direction. Well, we all need something Total. You need a tissue, I need air. Ari needed a second chance.

We all don't get what we want.

I could hear the girls sniffling, wiping away the tears which hit the ground like meteors. I fought to hold my own inside. No, I didn't know Ari well. And when I was with him, I treated him as if he weren't there anyway. But his death has made me realize that life is way too short and way too unpredictable to hold grudges. You never know when that person is going to be whisked away. Who knows, Ari and I could have been best friends.

Now I'll never know, because he's dead, trapped in a coffin, six feet under the damn ground.

Dirt rained down upon the wooden box as Angel spoke: "Bye Ari. I didn't know you for very long and I didn't like you for a lot of it. But I liked you at the end. You helped us. You saved us. I'll miss you. And I didn't mind your fangs or anything."

My throat closed up. This wasn't happening.

The Gasman stepped up to the grave. "I'm sorry about what they did to you. It wasn't your fault." He stepped backwards silently, and I snaked my arm around him. I could feel his shoulders shaking with sorrow.

Nudge was next, slowly and delicately tossing a handful of dirt over Ari's body. She tried to make a speech, but only managed to choke and sob. Max whispered something in her ear before leading her away. Her soft whimpers echoed in my head.

I could feel Max's gaze, hotter than the sun, burning my skin. What could I possibly say to this dead body beneath the ground? Would he even hear me? Do I look at the coffin, or to heaven? What do I say?

Instead, I just raised my hand and dropped it, managing a gruff "I don't have anything to say". When in reality, I had a whole novel of things to say. But I shut it in, afraid of the tears that would surely fall from my eyes.

Fang went next, followed my Max, but I heard nothing. The dead ringing in my ears multiplied. Now, not only was I blind to the outside world, I was also deaf. In this state, nothing could touch me, nothing could hurt me. In my own little quiet, sightless world, I was all by myself. There were no funerals, no crying, no pain. It was just me, with nothing to worry about. But no matter how hard I tried, that world kept crumbling around me, the walls shattering. I couldn't put up anything strong enough to keep out the agony of death. It would always seep through the cracks, dark, sinister wisps of smoke weaving in and out of my thoughts, refusing to let go until it's all I can think of. Until it consumes my senses.

Until I feel the salty tears rolling down my face, like weakness flowing from a waterfall. I raise my free hand to quickly brush them away before anyone sees, but instead I capture one between my fingers and let it slide down, catching it in my palm, letting is sit there. That was my sorrow. A tear, held in the palm of my hand, glistening in the midday sun. That was it. This tiny tear speaks so many words.

More of them flowed over my cheeks, but I let them be. If each drop was a word, then my face was telling a story. I decided to leave the book open, for everyone else to read.

"Come on Iggy," Max said softly. "It's time to go."

I turned to leave with her, but not before stepping up to the grave and dropping one, small tear onto the fresh earth.

I didn't know how to communicate with Ari before, but now I knew. Everything I was feeling could be spoken through one, solitary tear.

Goodbye.