"Well are you?" A tear stained Devin is standing by me.
I turn to him, though I don't want to. "I, I ah..." I need him to go away. I don't feel right talking to him, that's part of the reason I walked away earlier.
"She told me about you." He kind of smiles, "Said if I was gay, she'd have set us up long ago."
That sounds like her.
"I think you were her best friend..." I hope not, she deserved a better best friend.
"Here." He digs into his pocket. "She told me to give this to Bambi." He holds his hand out to me.
I don't move.
He reaches over, grabs my hands, and places whatever it is inside. "We should talk sometime." A tear fall from his cheek, "Sorry," He wipes it away before walking off, back to his friends and family. The family I was supposed to meet.
***
Fiona's" sitting across from me chewing on an apple while I stare down a glass of water. It's harder to focus on solid air when the girl sitting across from me is humming Christmas carols nonstop.
I break my stare long enough to address her. "Can you stop?"
"Fa la la la," She smiles, "Fa la la la."
"Fuck you." I'm not in the mood. I really thought I'd be dead by now. I was convinced swallowing the whole bottle would work.
"Oh Bambi," She puts her half eaten apple on the table. "I thought you were gay."
I let out a deep breath before reaching for the water.
"You need some eatnog." She says like it's a fact.
"I hate that crap."
"You hate the calories."
I stare at the floor. "Shut up."
She laughs, at first it's soft, but it turns to manic.
"Calm down." If she doesn't stop they'll restrain her. "Seriously."
"Sorry," She's still laughing.
People are starting to stare. "Fi..."
"Sorry," She starts to calm down a bit. "It's just, my brother," She looks me in the eyes, "You're acting like him.
"Sorry." I mumble.
"Nothing to be sorry for Bambi." She's stopped laughing.
"Okay." I sip the water.
"You should meet him."
"Who?"
"My brother."
I smirk. I don't work well with brothers.
"And everyone else."
"What?"
"My family, duh. Bambi, have you been listening? If we're going to get marriage you should at least meet my family first."
I lean in closer to the strange girl. "You know I'm gay right."
She rolls her eyes, "Sometimes, Bambi, sometimes..."
"Whatever." My eyes land on Fi's half eaten apple that lies on the table between us. I want it, but I can't. I can however, stare at it like it's the two trains are traveling opposite directions one is traveling east at forty-six miles an hour and the other is traveling west at seventy-four miles an hour, when will they meet? question.
Minutes pass before Fiona speaks again. "So I'm thinking after the holidays." She nods. "I'll meet yours to, Olive sounds fun." The certainty in her words makes it sound like she's already planning our double family vacation to Kalahari.
***
As Devin and the people he's with walk away, I look at what's in my hand. Fiona's locket. I'm surprised she wasn't buried with this. I always saw, at least, the chain of it around her neck. Her grandmother gave it to Fi when good 'old grams was dying.
It's a silver heart locket with a white diamond border. There is a 'B' carved into the middle. I would guess it's from Fiona's grandmother's name, but I don't know for sure what it was. I'm sure Fiona just thought B for Bambi.
A quick glance around conforms that I'm the only one left. However sad the reasoning, I can finally do what I've been thinking about doing for years: open the locket.
Years of smoking as put my finger nail biting habit on hold and I can easily pull the locket open with my nails, a task which can be difficult for those with less shorter nails.
I close my eyes before I see the content of the locket. This is the last personal thing my friend will ever share with me and I don't want to go too fast. I should cherish every aspect of this moment.
With a deep breath, I open my eyes. I see pictures.
It's a picture of a brace-faced Fiona and a little boy with a baseball bat. It's no bigger than a nickel and it's in black and white, but it's still a clear picture of a happy girl with her little brother. Reminds me of a picture Sarah took of Olive and I the one year I played tee-ball, only that picture has AJ in it. I believe it's framed in the Tanner living room somewhere.
The other side as a much more shocking photo. Adolf Hitler dressed in his WW1 uniform. Fiona was a girl of any mysteries. Keeping a picture of Hitler with her at all times isn't one of them.
The WW1 uniform was in a time before Hitler was the evil we know today, he was just a boy looking out for his country. Much like Fi was a girl looking out for everyone else. The uniform shows that good intentions come before the day things, not that they're always right and Fiona knew that. Now, I could go on and on about the metaphorical significance of Adolf Hitler's WW1 picture, but I was the main one is he committed suicide. Hitler killed himself when it was finally time to face punishment for his crimes. Fiona killed herself when it was time to face the punishing voices inside her head.
I've never been one for necklaces, but I think I'll like this one. Even if it's a little girly.
I watch the workers lower her body into the ground. "Goodbye, Fiona." I hold the locket to my heart as I speak.
I'm not only saying goodbye to a friend I loved, I saying goodbye the old me. The me that would have joined Fiona in the aftertime. The me that wouldn't have had the courage to see my friend off. The me I don't want to be.
I don't want to be here anymore.
The phone only rings once before Peter answers.
"Brent?" He sounds worried, "Where are you, you were supposed to be back and two hours ago."
"I need you to come get me."
"What? Where are you? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine..." I glance around, "I'm at the cemetery, I had a funeral to go to."
"What cemetery?"
I stare at a sadly familiar grave stone. "His." I hang up the phone.
Slowly, I walk to the chunk of rock with his name on it. My eyes stay glued until the words begin to fizz out.
Staring at AJ's grave, clutching the letter Olive wrote him nearly ten months ago, I speak. "I killed you." I wish he was here to fight me on that.
"How would I do that?"
I whip my head around. I don't remember drinking, but I swear I just heard AJ talking. So either I'm really drunk or I'm going crazy. Fiona once told me that when she went crazy her dead hamster started talking to her.
"You're comparing me to a hamster?" AJ chuckles, "You're still a moron."
I hold my breath as I turn back to his grave. Low and behold, Alexander David Tanner Junior is sitting on his own grave. I can't breathe.
This can't be happening.
"Pretty sure it's happening."
I stare at what can only be a ghost. "AJ?" My eyes must be telling to lies.
"Brent." He stares back.
I want to reach out and touch him, but that might not be a good idea. Real or fake, I'm not sure I want to physically know, but I still ask. "Is this real?"
Ghost AJ shrugs, "Oh brother of mine," He looks up at the sky like he'll never see it again. "Probably not"
I nod. I don't remember drinking, but I must be drunk. Otherwise ghosts are real. Like really real, flesh and blood real, and not just a transparent shadow that pops up every now and again. This is terrifying.
"Am I scarier dead or alive?"
I just look at the ghost boy. His brown eyes used to shine with bites of gold, his skin held a slight tan and his hair used to have a certain quality of, well, life. Now his eyes appeared gray, his skin was more like milk and his hair looked, well, dead. There's nothing I can say to him. I don't know the answer.
"You never talked much anyways." He dismisses the topic with a wave of the wrist.
I never had much to say.
"But you have a lot to say now, right?" He talks with his hands, "I mean you're talking to me now. And you do have my letter."
"Oh," I hold it out to him. Surprisingly, I forgot about it when my dead brother started talking to me.
"Thanks."
I'm quiet as he reads. Not wanting to stare, I only catch glimpses of his face. His emotions range from happy to sad with only a single word change.
AJ looks up. "Is she okay?"
I nod. "Remission."
He smiles. "Good."
It's a blessing and a countdown.
"I see."
I don't understand how, he's dead. I can't be mad about that though, I did do it.
"So you killed me?"
"I push you off the boat." That's an obvious yes.
"Is it?"
"I-" There's no point in finishing my thought, he's gone.
With the ghost of my brother and the workers that lowered Fiona six feet under gone, it's just me. Me and the decomposing bodies.
I never realized how quiet the dead are.
"Brent." I hear Peter calling from behind me. How long was I talking to a ghost?
I use my suit sleeve to get the tears off my face.
"Brent."
It goes against so many things but, "I'm over here!" I yell in the cemetery.
His steps don't make noise, but I can hear his breathing get slightly harder as he runs for me.
After slowing down, Peter walks over and puts his hand on my back, "Are you okay?"
I think hard about my answer, harder than I have in years. This is Peter. Peter Payne, my five foot eleven, brown hair, blue eyed, boy with perfect cheek bones. The boy that I will, ideally, spend the rest of my life with. I think I have an answer. "No." I let the tears run down my cheeks. I just imaged a whole conversation with my dead brother. "I'm not okay."
It's about time I told the truth.
THE END
********************************
Broken Brent is over. I feel strange about that....