Short Stories

Looking Back

        It was just a few weeks ago that Kelly, a good friend of mine, and I went out to a backroad outside of our dinky hometown of Woodhull for the first time since one of our best friends, Wyatt, was in an accident there. Of course we went out there the night it had happened, but this time was much different. Obviously all of the debris scattered across the road from the accident had been cleaned up, and most of the marks on the road had also been removed. More than that, though, it felt different to us in a way. As teenagers living in a such small town like ours, Kelly and I used to get bored and cruise down the back country roads with our windows down and our music turned up as loud as it would go, singing at the top of our lungs when we had nothing better to do; that road in particular. Now it seemed almost morbid to be there. Not only was it sad, it hurt in ways I am still not able to put into words. 

We got out of Kelly’s bright blue SUV and sat in the big, cold ditch where the car Wyatt had been in that night landed after the accident. I suppose that we seemed to think that if we sat there long enough and talked to him, that he might talk back. As we sat together in the wet, dewy grass, we talked to each other, and we talked to Wyatt for what seemed like hours. 

“How’s our WyPie? We miss you like crazy! I bet you’re raising hell up there. I hope and pray every day that you’re having fun up there in the clouds with your dad. I know how much you two have missed each other,” Kelly said up to the darkening sky as the sun was setting.

“Yeah, I bet you’re glad to have him back, Wy. Kell’s right. We miss you so much. You know, everyone told us that this would get easier eventually. It hasn’t though. It’s so hard to go to Cambridge and know that you’re not there anymore. But, what have you been up to? We’ve just been doing what we always do: working and stressing. School’s been pretty rough without you here, bud. Being in college so far away doesn’t feel right anymore knowing that you won’t be there when I get home,” I said, looking up towards the clouds.

“High school hasn’t been any easier either. It’s been a couple months now, but it isn’t getting easier. Seeing all of our friends is still hard. But, we have each other. We just all hope you’re having a good time up there, Wy.”

After that we seemed to lose track of time that night just like we used to when he was still here to talk with us. We laughed and we joked while we spoke up to the clouds in the darkening night sky, in hopes that he was listening. As silly as it might sound, after talking to him for so long, telling him how our days were, how work was awful, and how much we miss him, it seemed as though we could feel him sitting in the sticky grass right between the two of us. After it got too dark, we started to head back to Kelly’s car. But, as we got up, pushing our hands into the soft grass next to us for support, we each felt a sharp pain in the palm of our hands. We looked at what had pushed into our hands. Whatever it was seemed to be covered in mud, dirt, and grass, but a strange, bright neon orange color shined through all of the mess. They were pieces of the taillight from the car that Wyatt had been in that night. Since then, Kelly and I have cleaned the mess off of the shards, and we both carry those broken pieces wherever we go as a reminder that Wyatt is always with us. Although it may seem crazy, I believe that he put those there while we were talking to him that night. I don’t remember seeing the pieces before we sat down or while we first started talking to him, but as soon as we got up to leave, they were there. Part of me feels like he knew that we needed them. I am almost positive that when the two of us began to cry and let Wyatt know how much we miss him that he put those in the grass for us. 

When I was younger, my father owned his own roofing company, Morrison’s Roofing. But he also did work for my school district. He used to drive a school bus for our co-op to United Township, meaning that he knew a lot of the older kids that went to the same school that I did. So, when he needed extra help with roofing over the summer or over longer breaks during the school year, he sometimes hired high school kids to work with him. I was probably about nine years old when my dad hired this tall, beautiful, dark-haired boy named Derek. Derek had just graduated from the high school I would eventually attend. He was special. Everyone was his friend, including me. Derek Luallen was, what I thought to be, my one true love at the time. Of course this was unrealistic as he was almost twice my age and had a girlfriend of his own at the time. But I didn’t plan on letting something like that stop me. I knew that I loved him and that was all that mattered in my nine year old mind. It wasn’t all that hard to spend time with Derek, either. My father absolutely adored him. And after working for dad a while, my mom came around to him too. Our families got to know each other pretty well over the course of millions of lunches and dinners and the occasional, but more typical, weekend barbeque. I may have been way younger than him, but Derek quickly became my best friend. I told him all my secrets and he told me, his secrets too. We talked about anything and everything all the time. He even made time to come see me at school and at home when he wasn’t working with my dad. My friendship with Derek made all of my girlfriends jealous. 

One of the most prominent memories I have of Derek is the weekend we tried to make each other friendship bracelets. We tried to follow the directions on the back of the big purple box with all the different beads and string, but we messed them up so many times that we gave up and decided to just make bracelets with our names on them for each other. Derek looked at me and said, “You know, Kellea… No one has to know that we did this wrong. How are they going to even know? They’ll probably think they’re perfect. They’ll even be jealous. And even if they do find out, who cares? Ours will be way better than the ones that other people make anyways. Ours are special. They’re made with love!”

The bracelet he made me was way too big for my tiny wrist because he had made it to fit himself first. I didn’t mind at all, though. In my eyes it was the most beautiful and thoughtful thing I’d ever owned. It was like a gift. He even said that it was personal and made with love, which of course gave me heart palpitations. The one he made for me was made of thin, soft string the color of yellow tulips in the spring. It had his name spelled out in small, round, pale white beads. Each letter was a warm shade of lilac. When he slipped in onto my wrist and it was too big, he just laughed and apologized and offered to make me another one, probably one hundred times, but I said no and that I liked that it was too big because he had made it to fit him. He made it for me and that was what mattered. The bracelet I made for him was just small enough to leave small circular marks from the beads spelling out my six letter name. He didn’t mind. He said he liked that it was the perfect size for him. His bracelet was the same color as mine, only after my name I had slipped on an extra bead with a heart on it. He loved it.

A couple weeks after that, June 11th to be exact, Derek got into a car accident. They told my dad that he had been drinking and wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. He swerved off the road and apparently couldn’t get control of his car again after that. That night when my dad called my mom to tell her that Derek had died in an accident, I didn’t believe her. I sat on our ugly green couch by the picture window and watched our dogs out in the yard. I kept thinking of how much I hated that stupid couch. It was so horrible. The only reason we ever had it in the first place was to replace our much nicer, newer couch that our new puppy, Payton, chewed up the previous Mother’s Day. I remembered that day, too. We got home and it looked like it had snowed in our living room because there was so much big white fluff from the torn up cushions from the dismembered couch. My mom threatened to put our brand new baby German shepherd pup up for adoption when she saw what he did. After thinking about that horrible Mother’s Day for so long, I remembered reality. It was late, so late that I needed to go to bed. I couldn’t because I could not get the tears to stop spilling from my little eyes while I thought about Derek. Although I had told my mother I did not believe her and that she was wrong, I knew in my heart that Derek was gone and was not going to be coming back to visit me at school anymore. 

I was always told that my dad was one of the first people to get to the scene of Derek’s accident. While he was there he made sure to pick up the empty beer cans from the back of his car so his parents wouldn’t have to see how much he had had to drink that night. My dad was also able to get the bracelet that I had made for Derek just a couple weeks before. I remember how it meant everything to me that Derek had not only kept that bracelet, but continued to wear it. I cried for a long time after that night, especially when my parents took me to see what Derek’s car looked like at the shop it was taken to and when we drove by the road where he had gotten in the accident. But because I was only nine years old, it was hard for me to comprehend this whole event and why I was so sad about these small things. I wasn’t able to completely understand what it meant to lose someone who had meant so much to me.

It wasn’t until recently that I fully understood the harsh reality of losing a best friend. Just a little over two months ago, I lost one of my closest friends. I had known Wyatt since I was younger. He was also in a car accident, similar to Derek’s, only it was not his fault. He and another one of my good friends, Clint, were hit by another car coming home early on a Tuesday night in February. Wyatt was ejected from the car due to the impact. Since Derek’s death, I had not experienced the death of another friend, which made Wyatt’s death that much harder for me. I never quite learned how to deal with death, especially that of a close friend. His death hit me harder than anything. I had no idea what to do, how to act, or how to talk about it and try to comprehend it. The most I was capable of was crying. For quite some time after his death it was hard to even get out of my bed. I spent almost a week at home trying to be with the people that I knew loved Wyatt just as much as I did. I thought that maybe if I spent time with people who understood the kind of pain I was in that it might get better, but it didn’t and still hasn’t. 

Wyatt and I had went to two different high schools that affiliated with each other for sports like track and field, football, baseball and softball. Wyatt had always been a big part of my life, ever since I met him at a friend’s house. I had known that I would be friends with him for as long as time would allow as soon as I met him. Wyatt was one of those people that was so full of life and happiness and energy that it was contagious. Before him, I had never known anyone as radiantly cheerful. Wyatt was always there for everyone, including me, no matter his own mood. There was never a stale moment with him. One night that I know I’ll never forget was his birthday two years ago. He had just turned 18 and decided to throw an incredibly large party for himself, which only he would ever do. I am almost positive that he invited every person that he had ever come in contact with. There were hundreds of people around one colossal bonfire that was made out of all of his used and popped tires from his endless amount dirt bikes. That fire smelled so disgustingly sweet. The smell of burning rubber burned my nose, but I didn’t really care that night. I stood with his arm around my waist while he told me how thankful he was to have me and all our friends there to celebrate his, “BIG 18,” as he called it. I told him I loved him and would never have missed his birthday for anything in the whole world. He got quite and leaned in close to my ear and said softly, “Hey, Kell… I bet you I can jump over that fire!” I immediately smacked him on the arm and yelled, “Wyatt Cornelius! You will not even attempt to do that! It’s your birthday, you don’t need to die on your own birthday! What kind of idiotic idea is that?” After that he looked at me, winked, and said, “Watch me, baby!”

After that, Wyatt backed up about 100 feet or so from the fire, sprinted as fast as he could, took off his ridiculously large cowboy hat, waved it in the air, and screamed and yelled all the way over the fire. I was in arrant shock that he didn’t fall into it and catch fire. He was so proud of himself. Every single one of the hundreds of people that were there lined up to high-five him and clap him on the back for his great “accomplishment.” Wyatt was always one to smile, but I don’t think I had ever seen a smile so big and wide on his face other than that night. He came back up to me after he was done talking to everyone else, picked me up off the ground, spun me around in his arms and said, “I told you I could do it.” After that I laughed myself to tears. He took his grease covered hands and wiped the tears from my face and said, “Glad I can make ya laugh, babe! Sorry I made ya cry, though!” I laughed even more. He gave up on trying to wipe away the tears of laughter after I kept smacking his smelly, oily hands away from my face. So, he gave me the sweatshirt he was wearing before he had to run off and talk to everyone else again. It was way too big, blue, and reeked of motor oil and cigarettes. 

I lost someone very close to me this year. But, it taught me something more important than anything else I have ever learned. I learned what it is like to lose a best friend. This lesson was not an easy one to learn, but it helped me to fully understand the true pain of a loss such as these two. Now that I’m older, I am able to understand more of the little things that I didn’t before. When I was nine and my dad took the beer cans out of the back of Derek’s car so his parents wouldn’t have to see them, I thought he was just helping out. Now I know that it meant so much more than just that. He was protecting Derek’s parents. He knew that they didn’t need any more pain than they were already being put through with losing their son. I also learned why driving past the scene of his accident is hard for my parents and me to do and why going to see is car after it was towed away was difficult for us. I now understand how much these small things can mean.

Even though Wyatt and Derek are no longer here, I feel them everywhere. I have kept both of the bracelets Derek and I had made that weekend all those years ago. To this day I carry one with me everywhere I go. Since then, I have put the one with my name on it on his gravestone so I’ll always be with him and he will always be with me. Those bracelets mean more to me now than they ever did before. I like to keep a piece of Derek with me wherever I go. And now that Wyatt is gone I also like to keep that little something of him close to me at all times too. I carry that piece of his taillight from the wreck in my wallet so I can feel him with me no matter where I am or who I am with. 

The Stalkers

    "Arthur," his mother said, "Please. Just eat it. It's good for you, and the doctor says you need to eat more vegetables. This is one of the best one!" She picked some up, put it in her mouth and pretended to enjoy it, though she was clearly disgusted. "See," she said, "It's delicious!" She quickly turned around and spit it out while she thought Arthur wasn't looking.
That night, when Arthur went to bed, stomach still empty of the supposedly necessary vegetables, he couldn't help but think about how that poor broccoli probably felt. No one liked it. But, maybe that was good because it meant that no one would be eating it. Surely eating the broccoli would hurt it more physically than it would emotionally. Arthur drifted off to sleep in his cozy racecar bed with the broccoli's feelings on his mind. 
Four large, bushy stalks of broccoli, and one smaller, younger stalk, leapt from their shelf in the refrigerator, trying to push the door open just enough that they could escape the icy, cold box. At first the door was too heavy for the five of them to open, but with the help of the milk carton and the jelly, they were able to get past the suction of the door. The bright greens slowly crept down the hallway, peaking in every one of the doors to see what was hidden behind them. Looking for Arthur's mom behind each door, the broccoli band was disappointed to find that she was nowhere to be found on the first floor of the house. Assuming that they were not tall enough to climb each of the stairs, they moved on. 
They were able to find Arthur, himself, though. Upon arrival in his star-covered room, the band of bushy, green vegetables silently crept over the scratchy carpet and to Arthur's small bed. Once they realized that they were able to climb up the trunk at the foot of his bed, the veggies used all their strength to form a ladder of themselves tall enough to reach the covers and crawl up to Arthur's head. Each of the stalks took their turns shaking one of Arthur's little fingers, thanking him. Asleep, he was unaware that most of this was happening. "Thank you for not eating me," said the youngest stalk before climbing back down to the rest of his family and back to the floor.
Because they were able to climb up and down the trunk to Arthur’s bed, the stalks discussed the idea of trying to climb the stairs to find the mother. 
“I think that if we all helped each other like we did in Arthur’s room that we could do it,” said the youngest of the fluffy stalks.
“Berkley is right, guys. I think we could just use a couple of us too. Instead of linking our heads together like we did for the trunk, we could probably just stand on each other’s smaller stalks. That way we won’t hurt each other as much, and that way we can still find Arthur’s mom, Linda,” said Becky, each of the stalks’ mother. 
“Mom, Berk is never right. He’s too young to know anything. I don’t want him crawling all over me again. It felt weird when he climbed up me in Arthur’s room anyway. Plus, we don’t need to see his mom that bad, do we?” said the oldest stalk, Brandon. The others stood back in shock.
“How dare you! Boaz,” she stuttered a bit, tearing up, “I mean… Your father. He worked very hard to keep you all alive. Of course we have to find Linda. She has to pay for what she has done to him.” She looked off into the distance before continuing. “We have to find her. For your father. You should really be more considerate, seeing as you’re the oldest. Look at your brother and sister,” she said, pointing to Breck and Brock, the twins. “They’re so distraught. Why can’t you be more like them?” She screeched.
The twins sniffled while Brandon rolled his eyes at them. But he somehow knew that his mother was right. His dad deserved it. They had to find Linda somewhere. He reluctantly headed over to the staircase. With a lot of resentment, he bent down, somehow knowing he couldn’t argue with his siblings, let alone his mother. They were right, anyway. So, he let them each climb up his stalks at the bottom of each individual stair, hoping his mother would drop the subject and they could just get the night over with. 
Once the five of them finally reached the top after some difficulties, they were able to search the upstairs for Linda. After sticking their stalks in two or three doors, they were faced with the last room of the second floor. They all knew it had to be Linda’s. Finally. 
Just as the family of veggies suspected, Linda was sound asleep, but she was alone. They had no idea where her husband was or if he was even in the picture anymore. When Berkley asked about it, Beck responded, “I’m sure she chewed him up and spat him out too,” with a scowl on her face.
The bushy greens slowly crept into her room. As she snored, the five stalks sneakily moved closer and closer to her bed, eventually grabbing onto her duvet cover to climb up closer to her face. If they were going to do this, they all knew that they had to do it right. 
The kids anxiously waited for Becky to make her way up to Linda, where they stood patient and scared. They all knew their mother was angry with Linda, and they all missed their father terribly, but they were still afraid of what she might do to Arthur’s mom. They all loved that boy so much for being so conscientious. They knew if their mom hurt his and he found out, he’d probably never care about them again. As Becky got closer and closer to Linda’s tired, sleeping face, the kids held their breath. 
Just as Becky got close enough to feel Linda’s breath, she put up her biggest stalk, ready to attack. But, she couldn’t do it. She broke down and sobbed, “I just can’t believe you could do something so cruel.”
The kids all exhaled, letting out the big breath they had been holding in. “It’s okay, mom. She probably didn’t mean it,” Breck, one of the twins, told her mom.
“But she has to pay for what she did to Boaz,” Becky told her kids.
“Not necessarily,” exclaimed Berkley. 
“How can you say that, you dumb little sprout! That’s our dad,” Brandon yelled.
“Shh! Both of you keep quiet! I don’t want to wake her or Arthur! You both know better. Hush,” whispered Becky. “We all know what she did was wrong. But… I’m your mother. And, as a mother, I wouldn’t ever want anything to happen to me that left you kids all alone. Maybe we can just leave a message instead.”
“What kind of message, momma?” asked Berkley.
“Let me think. I’ll figure something out.”
As she was speaking, Becky started to climb back down the duvet cover again. As she made her way down the chunky, large blanket, she kept talking to Linda, even though she probably couldn’t hear or understand a single word she said. “You know, we stalks of broccoli put up with a lot. We know that you humans eat us, okay? We get it. We’re healthy, tasty, and can be transformed a million times over. We get it. But, to eat one of us, especially a father of four little stalks, and then be so rude as to spit him out,” she trailed off.
“Mom…” all four of the kids said in unison. 
“It’ll be okay, momma!” Berkley said. “Dad, probably would have understood. He wouldn’t want us to hurt her.”
Taking a deep breath, Becky said, “I know little one. I won’t hurt her. You’re right. But, we have to let her know that what she did wasn’t okay. Your dad would have understood, but that doesn’t make it right. We have to make it right.”
The four scared greens followed her down the duvet to Linda’s bathroom. There, Becky used all of her strength to climb all the way up to the top of the tall sink. She broke off a piece of her longest stalk and smeared it on the mirror, leaving green streaks. She went on ripping off her top stalks and bushes for quite some time. By the time she was done, the mirror read in big, shaky letters, “WE KNOW WHAT YOU DID, LINDA!”
“Do you think she’ll get it, mom?” The twins asked together.
“Of course they will, you stupid sprouts,” Brandon said in a snarky tone.
“Now, now, Brandon. Don’t talk to your siblings like that. You. Know. Better.” Becky told them. “But, yes. I do think she’ll understand. We all know that Arthur isn’t old enough to write yet. Who else but us could have done this?”
The broccoli family made their way back to the fridge, since it had been hours since they left and they had all started wilting. Once there, again, the milk and jelly helped open and close the door so they could get back to their rightful place, and they all went to sleep, awaiting Linda’s reaction in the morning.
The next day, the whole house was awakened by a shrill scream. Linda had found Becky’s message, and she knew full-well that it didn’t come from her son. 
At lunch that day, Arthur's mom once again asked if he would be eating broccoli today. Again, he said no. But today, he stood his ground, telling his mother that he thought vegetables had feelings too; somehow surer than he was yesterday. Linda mulled this over, but took Arthur’s word for it, still wondering how those big green letters appeared on her bathroom mirror.

Close to Home

    Harper was startled awake by her ringing cell phone. It was her grandmother. She had already called three times and was still trying. Whatever she wanted must have been important. But Harper had other plans. She needed more sleep. She’d been out with friends the night before and didn’t get back to her dorm room until almost two o’clock that morning. Unfortunately for her, as soon as she closed her eyes again, her phone started ringing. Again. 
There were as many voicemails as there were missed calls on her phone. Some were from her grandma, but some were from friends she hadn’t spoken to in a while. In her worn out state of mind, this didn’t seem to be too big of a deal. She fell asleep after rejecting another of her grandma’s relentless calls. What was her problem this morning? 

Harper found herself having an odd dream. She was surrounded by people from her past and her whole family. They surrounded her, reaching out for her. Their outstretched hands all held different cellphones that seemed to be dialing her. Their screams kept growing louder and louder no matter how hard she tried to cover her ears. She could see her parents and grandparents getting closer to her while continuing to dial her number on their phones. They wouldn’t stop yelling her name, almost as if they were trying to get her attention even though she was looking each of them right in the face. Her grandma was the closest one to her at this point, and her hand was just a few inches from her. Just as she was about to grab Harper by the arm, she dialed her phone number again. This time Harper actually heard it ringing. 

She woke up breathing hard with her hand clapped to her chest. Her phone really was ringing again. She was beyond irritated at this point. She picked up her phone, ignoring the countless missed calls, voicemails, and text messages. She answered, breathless and cranky, “Yeah! I’m awake. What’s going on, grandma?”

Harper drew in a quick breath as her grandmother hesitated. “Have you, uh, listened to my messages, sweetie? It’s important.”

“I just woke up. Why…?”

Her grandma sighed loudly and said, “Harper, I’m so sorry. I wanted to give you the news before you saw it online or heard it from one of your friends. Your sisters couldn’t tell you. They asked me to.”

“Tell me what?” Harper asked, finally waking up and realizing the severity of the situation. Her grandma never called this many times unless something was wrong. “Is it grandpa? Is he in the hospital again? I can be home in an hour. Is he okay?”

“No, babe. It isn’t your grandfather. He’s fine. Don’t worry about us, Harper. But you should come home as soon as you can. You should be here with us… With your friends…” She drew out the last words longer than anyone normally would have. 

“Oh. Oh, my gosh. Is it my mom? What happened? Is she okay?”

“Harper. Listen. I’m so sorry to tell you, but you’ve lost another friend today. It’s Nick. He got in an accident early this morning. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetie.”

Harper couldn’t breathe. Her grandma’s voice was still echoing in her ears. Nick. How could he just be gone? She could vaguely hear her grandmother continuing to apologize for her loss. She kept telling her how sorry she was and how everyone in the family would miss him too. She thought she heard her say something about funeral arrangements.

She interrupted her grandma by exclaiming, “Where was he? Was he drinking? Do you know what happened?”

Startled, her grandma grew quiet. “Yes, honey. I do. Nick had been out drinking with his sister for her birthday. They were in the city.”

“His sister’s birthday. So he was close by? He was here. He was here. By me. He was here and he didn’t call me for help. Why?”

Harper’s grandmother stuttered a little, “I don’t know, baby. I don’t know. I wish I did.” She began to cry quietly on the other end of the phone, “I wish I knew why, Harper…”

All of a sudden everything was black. Harper dropped her phone on the floor and fell on her knees. She was screaming so loud that her roommate Olivia ran out from the bathroom to check on her. By the time she got there, Harper had already passed out on the ground. Olivia could hear a voice yelling on the phone. 

Olivia quickly picked up Harper’s phone, immediately recognizing her grandmother’s voice, “Hi, Lucy. What’s going on? I think Harper must have blacked out. Is everything okay?”

Lucy filled Olivia in on what she missed. Lucy didn’t know Nick, but she knew how much Harper cared for him. From what Harper had told her, they’d been good friends since they were little kids. Olivia sat down the cold, hard floor of their dorm and stroked Harper’s long hair until she woke up. When she did, she looked up at Olivia’s sad face and prayed that this was all just a bad dream.

While it wasn’t a dream, the days leading up to the funeral were a blur. Harper wanted to be at home with her friends and family that were hurting too. But she couldn’t even leave her bed. She didn’t sleep, and when she did, she had the same nightmare as before. Everyone was surrounding her, reaching out for her. She didn’t eat, and when she tried, she got sick. She didn’t go to her classes for the next week. She remained in her dorm with Olivia, who didn’t go to her classes either. She stayed in their room with Harper to take care of her while she wasn’t able to take care of herself. Olivia had to remind her to get out of bed to shower and eat. She even had to make Harper brush her teeth because she would forget. By the time the funeral came around, Harper was barely even a person anymore. 

On that November morning, the last leaves were clinging tightly to the trees. It was cold and had been raining just moments before Harper got to the funeral home where she would watch one of her childhood best friends get buried. She couldn’t speak, or even cry, to the family members that sat around her. She had her hands clinched tightly to her long, black dress. Harper and her family were some of the first people to walk through the dark double doors of the funeral home. From the moment she sat down she kept her eyes tightly shut, hoping that maybe the tears wouldn’t be able to fall out from under her lashes. She sat quietly in the too-crowded room, surrounded by people she knew, but she didn’t open her eyes until she heard music begin to play in the background. She recognized the Avenged Sevenfold song. It was one of Nick’s favorites. They had gone to one of their concerts together a few years before. 

Harper opened her eyes to see a room full of people she knew from her past. There were old friends, family, and people she recognized to be Nick’s friends. There must have been one hundred people crammed into that room, and there were many more still fighting a long line to get in and say their last words. There was a crowd gathered around the casket that Harper couldn’t make herself look at when she first arrived. Seeing all those people who must have loved and cared for Nick as must as she had must have given her strength. She got up and walked with the rest of her family to say her last goodbye to him. She slowly walked down the aisle next to his casket where his family stood to greet the people coming to see him. She watched as the people in front of her shook hands with his mother, father, and sister. When it came time for her to do the same she paused for a moment before hugging each one of them, probably longer than anyone else. She let her tears fall, but she did so gracefully. It wasn’t until she had reached the casket that she could no longer control her sobs. 

Harper looked down at her best friend’s body. Up until that moment, she had assumed that she’d be afraid to look at him. She thought that he wouldn’t look the same as he had used to. But she noticed that he looked handsome. She imagined him with too much makeup, and she thought that he might look sad. But his mouth seemed to form a small smirk under his unruly red beard. The little smile didn’t make things better, and it didn’t bring him back to life. But it gave her a little bit more courage to stay and listen to Nick’s mother give the sweetest, most tearful eulogy that she had ever heard.

His mom spoke of all of the strange things Nick loved to do. She mentioned that he had recently started going to church, as well as making bread and jam. She talked about the many years that he was an Eagle Scout and helped the younger kids earn their badges. Nick’s mother shared all of the love she had for him with everyone there that day. She cried, but she said that this had to be God’s plan for Nick. 

“It isn’t what any of you want to hear, and it wasn’t what I want to hear either. But the truth is that he’s gone. My sweet Nicky is gone too soon. God must have loved Nicky so much that He wanted him to come home to Him sooner. But just look around. Look at how many people came. Look at how many lives Nicky touched. He did this. Each and every one of you loved him for some reason or another, and that love was strong enough to bring you here. I’m shocked, but I am so thankful. I didn’t even know my Nicky knew this many people. This is what he would have wanted. He would have wanted all of you here to say goodbye with a smile on your face. He meant something to all of you, just like you all meant something to him. Nick was so special. He was beyond selfless. He’d give a stranger the shirt off his back before he let them be unhappy. He’d buy you a beer or make you some bread. Nicky would do anything just to get a smile. He made sure everyone was happy before he ever thought about himself. So, I’m so glad that all of you are here to think of him. He’d be so grateful that each of you came. So, thank you. Thank you all. 

Harper was crying. Tears were streaming down her makeup-less face. She hung on every word Nick’s mom spoke. Harper knew she was right. Every one there knew and loved Nick, and that was all anyone could ask for then. She looked around and took in each of the faces that were present, and she knew that each of them were there to share their pain and mourning with each other. But she also knew now that they were there to tell their different stories about Nick. 

After his mom was done speaking, a single line was formed for everyone to exit the funeral home. Harper, holding her grandmother’s hand, noticed that everyone that had went outside was standing around the hearse with a beer in their hand. Almost everyone held up their drinks and toasted. They drank to Nick, and she knew he would have loved that. She watched as some of her closest friends and relatives dried their eyes and began to tell their favorite tales of Nick and his shenanigans. A smile started to spread across her face as she listened to some guys Nick went to high school with tell everyone about a time that he changed the background on every school desktop to his face so it looked like he was licking the screen. He was that kind of person, and Harper was so thankful that that was how he would be remembered. 

Eventually she caught herself telling her favorite story about Nick as well. She started out quiet, but once she knew people were listening and actually wanted to hear what she had to say, she grew more confident. She spoke of the last concert they went to together. The two of them had went to see Avenged Sevenfold a few years back with a group of friends. Harper and Nick had sat in the backseat of Nick’s Jeep listening to their two friends argue about who got to drive home. They were screaming and yelling and Harper and Nick were in the back fighting about how was stronger. They tried to fight each other, but really just ended up laughing and mocking their other friends.

It was hard for Harper to come home and see so many people she loved and cared for hurting. But she had a feeling that Nick was watching over her. When she was done telling her story, she made sure to add, “If Nicky were here, he never would have let me tell that. He would have been so upset because he wouldn’t have wanted our friends to know we were making fun of them.” Right as she said that, it began to rain. Just a light drizzle, nothing to harmful. But she thought it was Nick, getting her back for telling that story to all their old friends.