Willow and the Great Beyond--Chapter Two

“Willow, this is so brave of you.”

“It’ll get better with time.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

I turned to the partygoers, all of whom had said something to that effect. Every time I heard those words I wanted to explode all over the place. Dealing with Colin’s death wasn’t brave, it was necessary. Sorry wouldn’t bring him back. Of course nobody could imagine what I was going through. But I weathered all of these with what could pass as a grateful smile.

The ten people I’d invited to the Real Funeral huddled together in the wind, sand invading the spaces between their bare toes, drinks in hand. It wasn’t dark quite yet but when the sun fell for good the pile of driftwood would go up in flames in a grand show of our final farewell. I had to admit, I was putting it off. Saying goodbye was never easy.

The sound of the surf rushing up on the beach and pulling away faster than it’d came in was so loud it was a roar, drowning out the conversations and the music. I'd tried to pick a calmer part of Webber Beach for the Real Funeral but the choppy waters of North Carolina's coast had a mind of their own.The Arctic Monkeys, a much-loved band of Colin’s, crooned to us over the sound of the ocean through a borrowed speaker set. ‘Baby, I’m yours, and I’ll be yours until the stars fall from the sky.’ I’d listened to the songs countless times in his rusty red Chevy over the summer, along with everything else by the band.

Colin liked the Arctic Monkeys like he liked everything else in life: simply and completely. He was predictable, but never in a bad way. Uncomplicated, straightforward. In a world of pussyfooters and offhanded smooth talkers, it was nice to have someone like that around, always there to tell the truth. An ache thundered through my chest like every other time I thought about him since The Accident.

“Willow,” shouted one of the guests with an eager wave. “Come over here!” I grudgingly trudged over to the pod of relative strangers and smiled the paper smile that’d been painted on my lips the past few days. Bentley Douglas had been the one to call me over. I didn’t know her well besides that she was in my freshman English class and Colin and she had bonded over how cool trumpets are since they both took lessons, but other than that Bentley was a stranger.

“Hey, guys, having fun?” I asked, pulling my cardigan tighter around me against the frigid breeze, wishing I'd worn an extra layer. I wasn’t quite sure if a Real Funeral qualified as fun but I still had to be a gracious host. A few of them nodded halfheartedly and went silent. I took a swallow of the drink in my plastic cup and glanced over at the picture surrounded by candles that flickered in the wind on a rock a few feet away, a wistful happiness flooding me. It was Colin three years ago when we were freshmen. His hair was sticking up in awkward tufts, glasses were slid halfway down his nose, cheeks still baby-fat chubby. I wanted to remember him like that.

“So when are we lighting up, Willow?” Gary Vereen asked, snapping me out of my reverie. The sky was clouding over with a thick gray blanket; it was dark enough to be justifiable. The smell of sea water and alcohol invaded my nose and I knew by now we all had to be a little drunk, but the buzz was nice; “it took the edge off,” for lack of a better cliché.

I walked over to the rock Colin’s picture was on, my feet sinking into the sand and picked up the plastic bag I’d brought along. “Right now. Everyone grab a lighter.” The ten guests walked over to me, varying degrees of confusion on their faces, but they went with it. Taking a lighter of my own, I led them to the giant pile of driftwood I’d collected that afternoon with Gary and Hal and I took a deep breath, preparing myself for what I was about to say. Even though I’d rehearsed it a thousand times in my head I knew it would sound different out in the air around me, mixed up with the ocean and the vaguely melancholy tune trickling out of the speaker now. My mind was clear but I knew the words would come out blurry. They’d be only a sketch of everything I wanted to say.

“Colin,” I began shakily, feeling those goddamn sympathy gazes again, “was my best friend. I’d venture to say he was my only friend, actually. I didn’t invite any of you here because I know you,” I said, gesturing to them. When I had called some of them two days ago asking them to come to the Real Funeral they’d sounded surprised, as they should’ve been. I wasn’t friends with Bentley or James, Wendy or Hal, Nidha or Alex, Gary or Bob; this was for Colin.

“I invited you here because I know Colin knew you, and he talked about you enough for me to realize that,” I said, tucking a wind-whipped curl behind my cold ear. They all smiled little sad smiles.

“I wanted Colin to have a Real Funeral instead of whatever that was at the church the other day. I wanted him to be surrounded by people who loved—love him instead of his gross aunts and uncles who barely knew him at all. That’s what this is. We all knew him. We knew his life’s mission to find the most obscure bands possible, how if you made him laugh too hard he stopped laughing and just snorted for five minutes, how he was fiercely protective over his Xbox like it was his firstborn child. Those things—the little things—are what we need to remember him by.”

Another deep breath before I dove in. “One time a couple of summers ago I was watching Colin fix up that old Chevy. I asked him, ‘Colin, what would happen if the truck fell on you?’ and he said, ‘I’d die, stupid. What do you mean?’ and I said, ‘no, I mean what would happen? Where would you go?’ and he took a long time to answer. He just kept tinkering away for a while until he finally said, ‘Willow, if I got crushed by this truck, I’d die. And when I die, throw me a party. I want people to dance and drink and remember the good times. I’ll be headed somewhere big. Not Heaven—that’s for nuns—but somewhere bigger. I’ll go to the Great Beyond, and I want you all to celebrate.’

Naturally I had no idea what he was talking about. Colin was full of conspiracy theories and most of the time I just brushed them off. Hell, he tried to create his own religion once or twice. The ‘Great Beyond’ sounded stupid and cheesy right then and I kind of ignored it like everything else. I couldn’t tell you why I remember it so well now, but I do. And through some cruel twist of fate, Colin really did get crushed by his truck. Not exactly how I imagined, but it happened.”

I had to pause to swallow around the painful lump in my throat, threatening to choke me. The waves seemed calmer now, the music a little softer and the wind not quite so strong, like the world around us was paying its respects. I didn’t dare stop talking for too long because if I did I’d run out of steam and never finish, so I forced myself to go on in the eerie calm around me.

“Colin is in that Great Beyond now. The universe is like one of those choose-your-own-ending stories and that’s the ending Colin chose. It took me a long time to realize it, but we’ve got fate and destiny and basically the world right in front of us. We just have to reach out and take it. That was something Colin showed me and something I’ll never forget. So tonight, I—Colin doesn’t want us to be sad. We’re going to dance and drink and remember the good times. Not for ourselves, for him.” I finished my eulogy, the last syllable hanging in the air like fog. Salty tears that could just as well have been droplets of water from the ocean ran down my cheeks in hot little streams. The hole in my chest seemed to have grown larger in the past ten minutes but I filled it up for the time being.

A few of the other guests talked a little about Colin through thick voices and slightly slurred speech. When there was nothing left to say and we all fell silent I flicked the lighter on, shielding the flame from the wind and the rest of the guests did the same. Everyone bent down to the wood that had been doused with a healthy dose of lighter fluid earlier and the flame caught, spreading its way up and down the bleached branches until the whole thing was a burning tribute to Colin. We all dried our tears, put on our happy smiles and toasted our friend with our plastic red cups filled with Grey Goose and let the music suck us away into the night, as close as we could get to Colin without actually dying.