by Lucian Bane
I’m not, I just don’t believe you would really hurt anybody just for fun? That’s not you.
You don’t know me, Reginald, he whispered, putting his head in his hands. I did… beyond bad things, things no human should be forgiven for.
But you did it to protect me, you said that. Reginald took in a huge breath around the weight in their chest. I wished I remembered more Bones. About me and you. Why don’t I remember?
I don’t know why, Reggie.
For the first time, Reginald realized something. Bones… do you think I’m forgetting for the same reason you forget things?
I don’t know. Bones shook his hanging head. I don’t know what I’m forgetting and I don’t know what reason I’d have to forget. I only know that not knowing is bad and I need to figure out how to stop what’s happening when we sleep. Especially now.
Bones… Terror slowly gripped Reginald as he lifted his head. Do you think… it’s me coming back with blood on my hands?
No, Bones said immediately. Definitely not.
Bone’s certainty didn’t do a thing for Reginald’s sudden fears. How would Bones know, he didn’t remember? Why are we talking in our heads? Reginald muttered, standing. He needed to move.
Not like we need to be discussing these things out loud.
“Not like the dead speak,” Reginald muttered.
I wouldn’t count on that.
“Well I need to talk out loud if you don’t mind,” he gushed. “I need to use more breath, before I implode.” He looked at the house when the light in the kitchen came on. Shit, he thought she was sleeping.
“How is she even awake,” Bones muttered, sounding annoyed.
“She’ll wonder where we are.”
“Better hurry,” Bones said. “I don’t want to have a party in the freezing graveyard.”
“Where are they,” Reginald wondered as he snatched the bag up from the ground.
“Graves 23, 7, 35, and 90.”
“Damn!” he said, setting out in a jog to the closest one. “What are the odds of so many people having the same birthday in our graveyard?”
I wouldn’t call it odds, so much as irony.
“Why irony?” Reginald panted.
Because we want the opposite.
“We?”
You already know I don’t want to be out here at two o'clock in the morning, and you’re not your usual Bo-Bo the clown self.
“Bo-Bo the clown? You’re such a dick, you know that?” he huffed, leaping over graves to get there faster. “And I’m still fucking pissed at you so don’t insult me.”
He finally stood at the first plot, his hot breaths billowing out in white clouds. He set the grocery bag down and knelt on the ground, digging out the tray of cupcakes. He removed the mitt top on his gloves, so he could open the cover.
“I need the flashlight.”
Bones pulled it out and shined it on what he was doing. “Dear Christ, pick anyone.”
“I have to get the gender right,” Reginald said. “You know that.”
“How about get gender neutral colors next time?”
Reginald paused briefly. “Hell, that’s a great idea.” He placed the cupcake on the grave and dug the matches out of the bag. Striking one, he put the fire to the wick and blew it out when it caught.
“Next,” Bones moved to get up and Reginald held him down.
“The song,” he hissed, holding the cupcake close and guarding the flame.
“You need to hurry before Goldielocks comes,” he warned. “She’s probably scouring the graveyard now.”
Shit. Reginald looked around, then quickly began to hush sing. “Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear…” Reginald shined the light at the headstone and squinted at the tiny print.
“Tabitha,” Bones shot.
“Taaaabitha,” Reginald whispered before rushing the rest. “Happy-birthday-to-you.” He blew out the candle, set the cupcake on the grave, threw the supplies back in the bag, and raced to the next one a mile away.
They finally arrived and Reginald knelt at the foot of the grave.
“Hey!”
Reginald bolted up to find Winter a dozen steps behind him.
Lunatic busted.
CHAPTER TEN
“Hey!” Reginald called back, putting the bag behind him.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, hurrying to him.
He realized her steps were odd, and he looked to see she was wearing a pair of Bone’s boots. And coat. He tried not to let it bother him that she’d picked his.
“Hope you don’t mind I borrowed some clothes.” She grinned when she made it to him. “The bed got cold.”
Despite the awkward moment, he couldn’t help the joy she gave him and leaned to kiss her on the forehead.
She leaned, peering behind him. “What you got?”
“Oh, I had… chores to do and didn’t want to overlap them. Some have to be done on certain days and so I waited till you were asleep.”
“At two in the morning?” she cried, looking all around with a smile. “What couldn’t possibly wait?” She returned those pretty green eyes to his hungry gaze. “I can help maybe.”
Shit. “Uh… it’s okay. It’s way too cold for you to be out. It’s nothing, it’ll only take me like twenty minutes then I’ll be done. Maybe you can make us some hot chocolate?”
“Aww, but I want to help you.”
“Really, it’s nothing. Just something I have to do. Like to do,” he corrected, hating to lie about it.
“Just you?”
Reginald glanced around. “Bones… prefers not to.”
She eyed him, curiosity making her eyes sparkle with her smile. “Now you have to tell me. Is it a secret something?”
He looked down, wishing she’d just go back in and make the chocolate. “Not a bad secret just…”
“It’s silly,” Bones said, like he was tired of beating around the bush. “Bones speaking by the way. Since Reginald forgot to pull his ear.”
Shit, right.
“Why is it silly? I bet it’s not,” she said. “Tell me.”
“He celebrates—”
“I’ll tell her!” Reginald snapped, bringing the bag from behind him. He eyed her briefly before diving in. “There are a lot of kids here and some of them don’t get any visits on their birthday, so I make them a cupcake, sing them happy birthday and blow out the candle. That’s it.”
“Oh my God,” she finally gushed, sounding maybe shocked. Her smile bloomed suddenly, and she gave a laugh and little clap. “That is the best idea ever! And so sweet!”
Reginald sagged with relief and Bones shook his head. Why am I surprised?
“Why don’t you like to do this, Bones?”
“Do you even have to ask?” Reginald pulled his earlobe at the last second.
“Mr. Pissy Pants?”
“No, Mr. I’ve Got Better Things To Do Pants,” Bones said.
“Like?” she wondered.
“Like bury people.”
“And sharpen his shovels,” Reginald said, pulling his earlobe.
She giggled. “Can I help with the birthday chores?”
“They’re not really chores.” Reginald pulled his lobe. “I like doing it.”
“Of course you do,” she cooed.
“Bones speaking. Can we hurry and get done, I’m freezing my ass off and ready for my portion of this celebration.”
They performed the birthday celebration and set off for the next grave with Winter’s arm locked in his. “So what’s your portion of this celebration, Bones?”
“Rum.”
“The alcoholic beverage?”
“That’s the one. And I think I want us to call her something so you’re not pulling on my damn ear fifty times in a conversation.”
“Good,” Reginald said, pulling on his ear. “I’m not remembering to. I happen to love her name, can I call you that?”
“Awwww,” she said, smiling up at him. “And
what will you call me, Bones?”
“I’ll call you by the name I first met you by.”
“Ugh,” she muttered. “Cinnamon?” she wondered, sounding halfway hopeful.
“Sin,” he corrected. “I’m not calling you a flower, a food or a color.”
She eyed him. “Well. I don’t mind except I get the feeling you’re meaning the other kind of sin.”
He raised his brows, innocently. “Conscience maybe?”
“Very funny,” she muttered.
Liar. “Maybe another one,” Reginald said.
“No, it’s fine,” she waved her hand. “Cyn isn’t so bad. So, I thought you didn’t celebrate the birthdays, Bones?”
“I don’t, Sin. Drinking is my payment for letting him drag my ass around the graveyard to do this silly shit.”
She busted out laughing, and the sound made Reginald smile. “That is hysterical!”
“It actually is, Winter.”
“Why is it hysterical, Sin?”
“Okay…” She stopped with a hand up. “If you’re going to call me that, you can’t put your pissy emphasis on it. You sound like a satanic priest. I’ll start calling you Bonesy if you don’t watch it.”
“Only Reginald calls me that.”
“I know,” she said, pulling them along again. “And so will I if you don’t say my name nicer.”
“I love your attitude, Winter.”
“Why thank you Reginald!”
They both laughed then came to a stop at the next grave. Reginald knelt, putting the bag on the ground and pulling out the tray of cupcakes. “We need one for a boy, I do believe.” He shined the light at the tombstone. “I usually remember their names.”
“Tyler,” Bones muttered. “And how many times are you going to forget your glasses, I’m tired of you squinting.”
She looked at him. “You wear glasses?”
“I don’t like to. Winter.”
“But he needs to.”
“You forgot to use her nickname,” Reginald muttered, wishing he’d shut up.
“She knew it was me. Unless she’d think you were talking to yourself.”
“So wait,” Winter said. “You’re saying only Reginald has bad eyes? And you don’t?”
“Why is that so hard to believe, Sin? We’re two different people. Unless you forgot.”
“We share the same body but that’s about it,” Reginald reminded. “I have my issues, he has his. We’re literally two different people, as hard as that is for you to grasp, I know. I have poor vision, he has 20/20. I have a decent memory but his is nearly photographic.”
“Wow,” she cried, smiling a little like she thought they were all good oddities.
“He likes some foods that I hate and vice versa,” Reginald went on. “And some we can’t have because the other is allergic.”
“You forgot her name, Reginald.”
“Shit, sorry. Winter. And you don’t need to call me Reginald, I think I know who I am and that you’re talking to me.”
“Oh my God!” she cried. “Stop! Do you realize how confusing this is?”
“What? Winter?” Reginald asked, worried they were becoming too much work for her.
“You two, talking out of the same body!”
“Is it… really odd you think?” Reginald asked then remembered to use her name, “Winter?”
“We talk entirely different, Sin. Not even sure why we even need code names.”
“Because sometimes you sound exactly the same,” she cried. “Okay, okay, I don’t want to make it awkward or make it seem weird. Let’s finish talking about what else is different about both of you.”
“Well, Reginald can’t have rum because it—”
“Bones!”
“She’ll know soon enough,” he muttered.
“Why do you drink it if it hurts Reginald?” Winter wondered, sounding offended.
“It doesn’t hurt him, Sin.”
“But I thought….”
“I just don’t like it, Winter. Like he doesn’t like when I eat beets. They make his balls itch and swell up.”
She covered her mouth when giggles erupted as they arrived at the next grave. She looked at it. “Okay, we have a birthday boy here. How old is little Tyler?”
“Nine, Sin. Died in a car accident on his way to the vacation he’d dreamed of.”
“Oh noooo,” she cried.
“Death’s a real party pooper. Sin.”
“Oh Bones,” she said, sounding upset. “You sound…”
“Like a dick?” Reginald suggested, annoyed with him. “That’s because he is.”
“Like a dick, huh? You know what I don’t get, Sin? How people pretend they don’t know death is coming. They hear about death in the news, on the street, on the radio, day after day after day. Death is one of the few things in life that’s cut and dry. You know what you’re getting with death. You’re getting dead. You may not know what day or how, but you know that when it comes, you won’t be living anymore, you’ll have succumbed to that anomaly plaguing humanity from the jumpstart of time. But instead of being ready, or even bored out of their minds with that unfailing, faithful part of life, they treat it like a phenomenon. And if anybody embraces this natural part of life… they’re a dick.”
Winter stared, making her pretty lips into a fuckable oval while Reginald couldn’t help be shocked with Bones. “Wow, Bones. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so much in one go. You should try it more, you sounded intelligent.”
“It actually made a lot of sense,” Winter agreed with nods, to Reginald’s annoyance. “I’ve never thought of it like that before. Maybe it should be more like a race? Hurry and live since you know you’ll die soon? Enjoy this time as much as we can.” She looked back at the grave. “He didn’t get so many years but I bet they were good ones. I hope anyway.” She dug in the bag and pulled out the matches then struck it, lighting the candle.
She held the cupcake and guarded the flame with her hand and began to sing happy birthday to Tyler. For Reginald, he’d never seen anything so amazing before.
She’s your true equal Bones muttered.
She widened her eyes as she sang, waving for him to join in and he did, turning his attention to the birthday boy to make it special. When it came to blowing out the candle, she held it to Reginald. “Make a wish. Something for his living family, maybe.”
Reginald stared at the weak flame that she protected and blew it out, right after he wished they’d cherish every day with those they still had.
“Yaaaaay,” she clapped, pulling the candle out and licking the icing.
“No! Winter.” Reginald took the candle and stuck it back in. “It’s his.”
“Oops, sorry.”
“Don’t worry, Sin.” Bones pulled one out and handed it to her, then took one for himself. “He always buys a dozen.”
“Because Bones doesn’t like to eat them,” Reginald said, licking icing off his lips and winking at her.
They made it to the last grave. “Which is this one?” she asked happily, despite her being half frozen and her jaw rattling.
“Francis,” Bones muttered, not bothering to call her by name. He was aggravated, Reginald could tell.
“What’s his story?” Winter asked.
“Just sing the damn song, we can read his obituary over hot chocolate and cookies in the warmth of our cottage.”
“Sounds good to me,” Reginald said as he fought to make his numb fingers work. They sang the song through shaking, frozen lips and Reginald held the cupcake to her. “Your turn to make a wish for them, Winter.”
He watched as she stared at the tiny flame, smiling before closing her eyes and giving her wish a lot of thought. God, she’s sweet.
And slow as a corpse.
Let her take her time.
She opened her eyes and blew real quick then gushed to him in joy, “I wished his family to live life every day like it might be their last and to never be afraid to do the right thing for each ot
her.”
“How beautiful,” Reginald said, setting the cupcake on the grave.
Bones slapped the cake off.
“Oh, come on, Bones,” Reginald hissed, picking it back up. “I thought you were ready to go in?” Reginald set it back on the grave and quickly shoved his hands in his coat pockets, holding them down. “Done,” he announced, turning.
Bones back-kicked the cupcake off.
“Bones!” Reginald growled, ready to deck him.
“What are you doing, Bones?” Winter shrilled.
“He’s being an ass, he always does this on the last one, he thinks it’s funny. Put it back on Winter, while I hold him.”
She put it on and Reginald took a few steps back. “You’re like a bad dog,” Reginald said at feeling Bones wanting to charge forward and knock it off again.
“A very bad dog,” Winter agreed, coming and latching her arm in theirs. “Stay!”
“It’s part of our celebration,” Bones said.
“No, it isn’t. It’s part of his prickery.”
“Prickery!” she laughed, tugging them faster toward the house. “Aaack, it’s freezing!”
Once inside, Winter stepped out of the boots and hurried to the kitchen.
“She’s wearing my socks,” Bones muttered. “Which means she’s digging through my drawers.”
“Our drawers.”
“But my socks.”
“Consider yourself blessed she chose your socks,” he whispered. “It’s not like we have our drawers named.”
“And I’m not naming them,” Bones said as they headed to the kitchen where Winter heated something at the stove.
“Putting on the milk.”
Are you kidding? Does she not know a joke when she hears one? It’s three o'clock in the morning, it’s not time for chocolate. I’m tired.
“I’ll get the chocolate.” The dead won’t complain Reginald said, going to the pantry. He was the only one with any kind of sweet tooth and was beyond happy to have somebody to share that with.
“I almost forgot.” Bones reached up and pulled the rum from the top shelf before Reginald shut the door.
God, are you seriously going to do that?
“Sure am,” he muttered as they went back to the table.
I thought you said you wouldn’t do that anymore.
I changed my mind.