A Short Story
Enjoy.
Gods And Funerals
The sun beat down, glaring on the small gathering like an overheated, high powered flashlight that someone forgot to turn off. God, I hate nice weather.
Why couldn't it be cool? And perhaps rainy? At least, the sky should have been overcast. That's the only good kind of weather for a funeral. But nay, it seemed as though God only wanted us to fry in this glare. I wasn't the only one wearing sunglasses, and it seemed like everything was black and shiny today. Hell, a few of the visitors decided to wear leather. I felt a bit put off by the get-ups, but that was okay. It wasn't like I knew any of these people anyway. I was here only to say goodbye to a good friend, and then I was going to leave. You're probably thinking, just leaving the funeral. No... I was leaving the city. For good. Los Angeles can be harsh on a young woman, and I had finally decided that it was time for me to move east, maybe try New York or Chicago for a try. Orlando even sounded good.
"... and so," the preacher droned on, his voice dull and annoying in my ears, "we lay to rest, our friend Jeremiah Butler. May he be in God's hands."
People began shuffling away from the coffin, leaving to find their cars. But I stood still, ignoring all the others and gazing at the dark hole beneath the coffin. Jeremiah would be going in there soon. Too bad, really. He'd been a great guy. When I knew I was alone besides the guys standing off in the distance, waiting to begin shoveling dirt onto the coffin, I walked forward. My hands reached out and touched the wood gently. They were gloved in lace, tiny and fragile looking. One would never think I used these hands in ink all the time. Being a tattoo artist is fun. But right now I wasn't thinking about my job. I was thinking about how much I was going to miss Jerry.
I leaned down and kissed the smooth top. It was really the only way I could think to give one final goodbye. He'd loved me once, and I couldn't have ever returned his affections. I cared about him... I just couldn't love him. I'd never loved anyone, not real love. Sure, I'd loved my parents, but that wasn't the kind of love that teenagers dream about and hope to grow old with. I'd broken his heart, and in turn broken my own. I hurt myself by hurting him. I hate that.
"Well, that's not something you see everyday."
I froze. What else was I supposed to do? I thought I had been all alone. I stood up straight, not taking my hands off the coffin. Turning my head, a saw a tall, thin man, with long white hair, past his shoulders. I couldn't really get a good look at him, because he was standing about ten feet away, but he was wearing a gray suit, one of those three piece outfits that men used to wear way back when my grandfather was a young boy. I stared at him and didn't say anything. I couldn't think of anything to say, and what could I? It really isn't something you see everyday when a girl kisses a coffin in broad daylight.
"I'm going to assume you knew Jeremiah?" the man asked, walking closer. I took a step back, but stayed touching the coffin. It was almost like I couldn't let it go.
"Yes... I did." I said. My voice felt weak. I hadn't cried today, I had forced myself to remain calm, but I had been crying all day yesterday and the day before that, ever since I found out Jeremiah had died. It hurt, because I would never see him again. It wasn't often that someone I actually cared about died, not since my parents did. And I had been close to him, almost like a sister. Now he was gone, and I couldn't bring him back.
"I hope I'm not intruding." The man was suddenly right in front of me, standing not a foot away. I hadn't seem him walk that fast, but maybe I was out of it. I heard it happening to other people. I just hoped I didn't go all Miss Delirious on this guy. I looked up at him. He was a lot taller than I thought he was from a distance. He stood around two feet taller than me, and I was tall for a girl. I had to arch my neck to meet his eyes, which were a startling gray. They matched his suit. And now that I could see him so close, I realized that his hair wasn't white, either. It was just a light shade of gray. Which surprised the hell out of me, because his face was young. He couldn't be older than twenty.
"I... I, um... no," I stammered slightly, breaking eye contact and looking at my hand, still touching the coffin. I didn't want to let go all of a sudden. I felt like if I let go, he would be gone for good. It was almost like, if I let go, his soul was going to leave and never come back. "No, I was only saying goodbye."
"Why didn't you do it back at the funeral parlor?" he asked, his voice monotone and smooth, just like the coffin. I looked up at him again, and his face remained neutral. If he knew Jeremiah, he seemed awfully calm. Then again, so did I.
"Why do you care?" I asked, not in the least bit offensive, "It's not like he'll ever know the difference."
"Says who?" asked the man, gazing down at me, his gray hair hanging like a fine silk curtain around his face, which remained emotionless. "Who's to say whether he can still hear you or not? Maybe he's just waiting for that final goodbye."
I didn't say anything for a moment. Was he saying something religious? I'd never much believed in God. Never had a reason to. Not even when my parents died. Not even now. I'd never seen a miracle, or a disaster, that was so overwhelming I would think there had to be some higher being to make something this bad or good happen. Great... I'm standing next to a Jesus freak. No, that's too harsh. He was probably just a good ol' Christian boy that Jeremiah had made friends with before his death. He'd been getting like that a lot near the end. Even got baptized. I thought it was kind of funny, but I respected his views. If he wanted to believe that there was some kind of new life after death, I wasn't the person to bash his hopes for a heaven. His leukemia never went away, and he died on a bed surrounded by friends. I hadn't been there, but I could almost feel him leaving.
"Well, that's what I was giving him," I finally said, and felt a warm wetness drop from my eye and slide down my cheek. I reached up with my free hand and wiped it away. This wouldn't be the best of times to break down, not in front of this stranger. I wouldn't like to be comforted by this tall man, who seemed so cold and distant.
"You can cry, you know," he said, reaching out and giving my arm the smallest of rubs. A moment ago, I thought that if he touched me, I'd want to back away. But when he actually did it, I suddenly felt a warmth in my chest, like my heart had finally overloaded and all the pain came pouring out. My face crumbled, and so the tears came forth. I began crying, sobbing lightly, and leaned against the coffin. I was light, so it wouldn't fall off the platform or anything like that. I reached up, putting my laced fingers under the sunglasses and tried to hold it back, but the pain wouldn't stop. It just kept coming. But I also felt better... like with the pain, a load was being pulled off my shoulders. How can the simplest of contact make me break so easily and yet make me feel almost whole?
"It'll be alright, Mina."
I felt a large hand laying gently on my shoulder. I stop sniffling and stood up straight, pulling the sunglasses away from my eyes, which were blue. Just a plain sky blue, nothing special. I looked at him with those blue eyes, now bloodshot with fresh tears, and realized that I'd never told him my name. He'd never even asked.
"How do you know my name?" I asked, surprised. He laughed, a light sound, and his face lit up so suddenly that it totally threw me off guard. When he smiled, he became handsome... no, not just handsome, beautiful. It was the strangest thing I'd ever seen.
"Oh, Jeremiah has told me about you several times," he said, looking away from me and putting his own hand on the coffin, near mine. His smile remained, but now it was sad. Almost pitiful. I wanted to hug him and comfort him. But I restrained myself. There was no need to go throwing yourself at a complete stranger, no matter how beautiful he was.
"I assume it wasn't all good things," I said, my own sad smile forming on my face.
"No... he only spoke of you in the highest regards. You could almost do no wrong." he replied, and turned to look at me again, "Though you did frustrate him at times. He just couldn't understand you."
"And vice versa," I said, "He loved me so much, and no matter what I said, that wouldn't change. Sometimes I hate myself for not being able to love him the way he loved me."
The man nodded slowly. He ran a large hand through his hair, brushing it away from his face, and stepped back.
"Don't worry yourself, Mina," he said, "Jeremiah loved you and you loved him back in your own way. He still appreciated you even if he couldn't be with you. There was nothing he wouldn't do for you. Trust me."
I smiled. He talked like he knew Jerry personally. Though Jeremiah had never mentioned any gray haired friend to me. Oh well... I had kept secrets from him, and he'd kept his own from me, I suppose.
"Thanks," I said, and looked down. The ground was shadowing, and so my eyes lifted to the sky. Dark clouds were moving in, and it looked like a shower was coming. I didn't remember anything in the forecast about rain, but either way, I was relieved. I loved rain, and so it was welcoming to feel a cool breeze brush my skin.
"Looks like it's going to rain." he said beside me, looking up like me.
"Yeah." I said, and decided that, though I didn't really want to go and let them put Jeremiah in the cold ground, I needed to go home and pack my things. My plane was leaving later tonight. I was stopping in Missouri first, to stay with an aunt for a few days. And after that, I'd decide where to go from there.
"Well, I'd better be going," I said, and straightened my posture. The man looked at me, almost like he didn't want me to go, but nodded. "Maybe I'll see you around sometime." I said.
"Maybe." was his only response. I turned and began walking away, my long black skirt beginning to billow around my legs while the wind picked up. Good thing I'd worn low heels today instead of high heels. I might have fallen down. When I got near my car, I pulled my keys from my purse. With a glance, I saw the man still standing by the coffin. I hadn't seen him at the funeral except for when everyone else left.
"I never did get your name," I called out, and he saw his head lift in my direction. He said something, but a sudden gust of wind blew it away. What I thought I heard was "It doesn't matter." But I couldn't be sure. Either way, I needed to leave. What had looked like a small shower suddenly seemed like it was going to gale. Unlocking my doors, I climbed inside, and shut out the wind with the slam of a door. I felt empty now, and throwing one last look toward the coffin, I was surprised to see no one there. The man was gone. There was no life left in this cemetery, except for the two men walking toward Jeremiah's grave. I turned on the car, and pulled away. I didn't want to see him lowered into the ground.
Rain began splattering against the windshield. I looked at myself in the rear view mirror as I passed the other gravestones, and saw puffy blue eyes, surrounded by red. Looking away, I sighed. I told myself it would be okay. Maybe Jeremiah really was going to a better place, just like he believed in the end. Maybe everything would be okay. And as I drove toward the exit of the cemetery, something blew into my window. At a second glance, I realized it was a large, gray feather.
(c) Jae McGee
Feb. 27th, 2005
Gods And Funerals
The sun beat down, glaring on the small gathering like an overheated, high powered flashlight that someone forgot to turn off. God, I hate nice weather.
Why couldn't it be cool? And perhaps rainy? At least, the sky should have been overcast. That's the only good kind of weather for a funeral. But nay, it seemed as though God only wanted us to fry in this glare. I wasn't the only one wearing sunglasses, and it seemed like everything was black and shiny today. Hell, a few of the visitors decided to wear leather. I felt a bit put off by the get-ups, but that was okay. It wasn't like I knew any of these people anyway. I was here only to say goodbye to a good friend, and then I was going to leave. You're probably thinking, just leaving the funeral. No... I was leaving the city. For good. Los Angeles can be harsh on a young woman, and I had finally decided that it was time for me to move east, maybe try New York or Chicago for a try. Orlando even sounded good.
"... and so," the preacher droned on, his voice dull and annoying in my ears, "we lay to rest, our friend Jeremiah Butler. May he be in God's hands."
People began shuffling away from the coffin, leaving to find their cars. But I stood still, ignoring all the others and gazing at the dark hole beneath the coffin. Jeremiah would be going in there soon. Too bad, really. He'd been a great guy. When I knew I was alone besides the guys standing off in the distance, waiting to begin shoveling dirt onto the coffin, I walked forward. My hands reached out and touched the wood gently. They were gloved in lace, tiny and fragile looking. One would never think I used these hands in ink all the time. Being a tattoo artist is fun. But right now I wasn't thinking about my job. I was thinking about how much I was going to miss Jerry.
I leaned down and kissed the smooth top. It was really the only way I could think to give one final goodbye. He'd loved me once, and I couldn't have ever returned his affections. I cared about him... I just couldn't love him. I'd never loved anyone, not real love. Sure, I'd loved my parents, but that wasn't the kind of love that teenagers dream about and hope to grow old with. I'd broken his heart, and in turn broken my own. I hurt myself by hurting him. I hate that.
"Well, that's not something you see everyday."
I froze. What else was I supposed to do? I thought I had been all alone. I stood up straight, not taking my hands off the coffin. Turning my head, a saw a tall, thin man, with long white hair, past his shoulders. I couldn't really get a good look at him, because he was standing about ten feet away, but he was wearing a gray suit, one of those three piece outfits that men used to wear way back when my grandfather was a young boy. I stared at him and didn't say anything. I couldn't think of anything to say, and what could I? It really isn't something you see everyday when a girl kisses a coffin in broad daylight.
"I'm going to assume you knew Jeremiah?" the man asked, walking closer. I took a step back, but stayed touching the coffin. It was almost like I couldn't let it go.
"Yes... I did." I said. My voice felt weak. I hadn't cried today, I had forced myself to remain calm, but I had been crying all day yesterday and the day before that, ever since I found out Jeremiah had died. It hurt, because I would never see him again. It wasn't often that someone I actually cared about died, not since my parents did. And I had been close to him, almost like a sister. Now he was gone, and I couldn't bring him back.
"I hope I'm not intruding." The man was suddenly right in front of me, standing not a foot away. I hadn't seem him walk that fast, but maybe I was out of it. I heard it happening to other people. I just hoped I didn't go all Miss Delirious on this guy. I looked up at him. He was a lot taller than I thought he was from a distance. He stood around two feet taller than me, and I was tall for a girl. I had to arch my neck to meet his eyes, which were a startling gray. They matched his suit. And now that I could see him so close, I realized that his hair wasn't white, either. It was just a light shade of gray. Which surprised the hell out of me, because his face was young. He couldn't be older than twenty.
"I... I, um... no," I stammered slightly, breaking eye contact and looking at my hand, still touching the coffin. I didn't want to let go all of a sudden. I felt like if I let go, he would be gone for good. It was almost like, if I let go, his soul was going to leave and never come back. "No, I was only saying goodbye."
"Why didn't you do it back at the funeral parlor?" he asked, his voice monotone and smooth, just like the coffin. I looked up at him again, and his face remained neutral. If he knew Jeremiah, he seemed awfully calm. Then again, so did I.
"Why do you care?" I asked, not in the least bit offensive, "It's not like he'll ever know the difference."
"Says who?" asked the man, gazing down at me, his gray hair hanging like a fine silk curtain around his face, which remained emotionless. "Who's to say whether he can still hear you or not? Maybe he's just waiting for that final goodbye."
I didn't say anything for a moment. Was he saying something religious? I'd never much believed in God. Never had a reason to. Not even when my parents died. Not even now. I'd never seen a miracle, or a disaster, that was so overwhelming I would think there had to be some higher being to make something this bad or good happen. Great... I'm standing next to a Jesus freak. No, that's too harsh. He was probably just a good ol' Christian boy that Jeremiah had made friends with before his death. He'd been getting like that a lot near the end. Even got baptized. I thought it was kind of funny, but I respected his views. If he wanted to believe that there was some kind of new life after death, I wasn't the person to bash his hopes for a heaven. His leukemia never went away, and he died on a bed surrounded by friends. I hadn't been there, but I could almost feel him leaving.
"Well, that's what I was giving him," I finally said, and felt a warm wetness drop from my eye and slide down my cheek. I reached up with my free hand and wiped it away. This wouldn't be the best of times to break down, not in front of this stranger. I wouldn't like to be comforted by this tall man, who seemed so cold and distant.
"You can cry, you know," he said, reaching out and giving my arm the smallest of rubs. A moment ago, I thought that if he touched me, I'd want to back away. But when he actually did it, I suddenly felt a warmth in my chest, like my heart had finally overloaded and all the pain came pouring out. My face crumbled, and so the tears came forth. I began crying, sobbing lightly, and leaned against the coffin. I was light, so it wouldn't fall off the platform or anything like that. I reached up, putting my laced fingers under the sunglasses and tried to hold it back, but the pain wouldn't stop. It just kept coming. But I also felt better... like with the pain, a load was being pulled off my shoulders. How can the simplest of contact make me break so easily and yet make me feel almost whole?
"It'll be alright, Mina."
I felt a large hand laying gently on my shoulder. I stop sniffling and stood up straight, pulling the sunglasses away from my eyes, which were blue. Just a plain sky blue, nothing special. I looked at him with those blue eyes, now bloodshot with fresh tears, and realized that I'd never told him my name. He'd never even asked.
"How do you know my name?" I asked, surprised. He laughed, a light sound, and his face lit up so suddenly that it totally threw me off guard. When he smiled, he became handsome... no, not just handsome, beautiful. It was the strangest thing I'd ever seen.
"Oh, Jeremiah has told me about you several times," he said, looking away from me and putting his own hand on the coffin, near mine. His smile remained, but now it was sad. Almost pitiful. I wanted to hug him and comfort him. But I restrained myself. There was no need to go throwing yourself at a complete stranger, no matter how beautiful he was.
"I assume it wasn't all good things," I said, my own sad smile forming on my face.
"No... he only spoke of you in the highest regards. You could almost do no wrong." he replied, and turned to look at me again, "Though you did frustrate him at times. He just couldn't understand you."
"And vice versa," I said, "He loved me so much, and no matter what I said, that wouldn't change. Sometimes I hate myself for not being able to love him the way he loved me."
The man nodded slowly. He ran a large hand through his hair, brushing it away from his face, and stepped back.
"Don't worry yourself, Mina," he said, "Jeremiah loved you and you loved him back in your own way. He still appreciated you even if he couldn't be with you. There was nothing he wouldn't do for you. Trust me."
I smiled. He talked like he knew Jerry personally. Though Jeremiah had never mentioned any gray haired friend to me. Oh well... I had kept secrets from him, and he'd kept his own from me, I suppose.
"Thanks," I said, and looked down. The ground was shadowing, and so my eyes lifted to the sky. Dark clouds were moving in, and it looked like a shower was coming. I didn't remember anything in the forecast about rain, but either way, I was relieved. I loved rain, and so it was welcoming to feel a cool breeze brush my skin.
"Looks like it's going to rain." he said beside me, looking up like me.
"Yeah." I said, and decided that, though I didn't really want to go and let them put Jeremiah in the cold ground, I needed to go home and pack my things. My plane was leaving later tonight. I was stopping in Missouri first, to stay with an aunt for a few days. And after that, I'd decide where to go from there.
"Well, I'd better be going," I said, and straightened my posture. The man looked at me, almost like he didn't want me to go, but nodded. "Maybe I'll see you around sometime." I said.
"Maybe." was his only response. I turned and began walking away, my long black skirt beginning to billow around my legs while the wind picked up. Good thing I'd worn low heels today instead of high heels. I might have fallen down. When I got near my car, I pulled my keys from my purse. With a glance, I saw the man still standing by the coffin. I hadn't seen him at the funeral except for when everyone else left.
"I never did get your name," I called out, and he saw his head lift in my direction. He said something, but a sudden gust of wind blew it away. What I thought I heard was "It doesn't matter." But I couldn't be sure. Either way, I needed to leave. What had looked like a small shower suddenly seemed like it was going to gale. Unlocking my doors, I climbed inside, and shut out the wind with the slam of a door. I felt empty now, and throwing one last look toward the coffin, I was surprised to see no one there. The man was gone. There was no life left in this cemetery, except for the two men walking toward Jeremiah's grave. I turned on the car, and pulled away. I didn't want to see him lowered into the ground.
Rain began splattering against the windshield. I looked at myself in the rear view mirror as I passed the other gravestones, and saw puffy blue eyes, surrounded by red. Looking away, I sighed. I told myself it would be okay. Maybe Jeremiah really was going to a better place, just like he believed in the end. Maybe everything would be okay. And as I drove toward the exit of the cemetery, something blew into my window. At a second glance, I realized it was a large, gray feather.
(c) Jae McGee
Feb. 27th, 2005