After Elias

by Eddy Boudel Tan

  We were proud of our accomplishment. I couldn’t wait to hang out with my brother in the fort that we had built together. I figured we would have sleepovers there, play games, or just sit inside and talk. It would be our special place.

  I was wrong. Clark invited his boorish friends over the day we finished building, and they took over the fort. I wasn’t allowed inside or anywhere near them. It was theirs now, not ours. It always had been. That’s when I learned that Clark would never be anything more than someone who shared my family name.

  Now we stand here on the pier, looking at one another with uncertainty, waiting to see who makes the first move. The breeze streams through his thick chestnut hair, which I know has been meticulously styled to appear windswept. With the older, taller, stronger, more charismatic Caraway brother standing in front of me, it feels like I’m staring at the actor who’d be cast to play me in the Hollywood version of my life.

  After an uncomfortable silence a few seconds too long, Clark grins broadly and walks toward me with his arms outstretched. My body tenses up as he grabs me by the head. He gives it a playful shake before wrapping himself around me in a hug, smothering me with his cologne that smells like tobacco rolled in leather. “Little bro,” he says. “It’s good to see you.”

  He releases and assesses me, tucking his sunglasses into the pocket of his blazer. His stupid grin softens into something else, lips pursed and eyes squinted. “This is a nightmare. I can’t imagine what you must be going through.”

  I don’t know what to do or say, so I just nod my head in agreement.

  You definitely don’t have any idea.

  “Listen, if there is anything I can do, anything at all, you tell me,” he goes on. “I’m here for you, Coenhead.”

  I wince as he says this last word, a name that never really caught on despite Clark’s best efforts. He thought it was clever when he first came up with it, and he hasn’t given up over twenty years later.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I say. Vivi and Decker hear the subtle hint of sarcasm; Clark does not.

  “I don’t want to interrupt this Caraway family moment,” Vivi says, “but we should get going. The shuttles are waiting.” She knows when it’s time to pull me out of a situation, especially when it involves my family. Everyone can see that she’s right. Only two vans remain from the fleet sent by the hotel.

  “All right then,” Clark says, grabbing his suitcase and slinging a duffel bag over his shoulder. “Let’s get this party started.”

  Everyone looks at him, and he realizes what he has said. Decker catches my eye with a knowing glance and shakes his head ever so slightly.

  “I mean …” Clark stammers. “You know what I mean.”

  Vivi and Decker sit on either side of me in the rear of the van like a human shield. My parents sit in the middle row while Clark takes the front seat beside the driver. I try not to think about the patronizing small talk the driver is likely being subjected to.

  We make our way past the palm trees and fruit stands that line the road, speeding toward the hotel I’ve confined myself in for the past few days. It’s surreal. Everyone talks with such rhythmic timing that it feels scripted, like there’s an unspoken understanding that silence cannot be allowed. My mother asks a question, then my father interjects before I can speak, then Decker jumps in with a quirky anecdote from their flight this morning. Everything flows with mechanical efficiency. The mood in the van is cautiously upbeat, cheerful almost. Everyone does their part to mitigate awkwardness, extinguishing any hint of darkness by keeping things buoyant and distracted. It’s an impressive feat of collective repression.

  As I would expect, Elias’s name is not uttered once. His existence is not even alluded to. I suppose there will be time for Elias, but this post-reunion drive will not be it.

  • • • • •

  “This concerns me.”

  Vivi examines the altar that sits dejectedly on my windowsill. She studies each offering with bemusement on her face and her arms crossed over her chest. “Seriously, Coen. This is disturbing.”

  “What do you mean?” I say, betraying my defensiveness. “It’s a harmless tribute.”

  “You don’t believe in god. You don’t believe in any of this. I just find it alarming that you spend a week alone on a Mexican island and now you’re all of a sudden making offerings to angels and virgins.”

  “Maybe you’d start doing uncharacteristic things if you lost your fiancé a week before your wedding day.”

  Vivi pauses, sighs, and closes her eyes. “It just doesn’t seem like you. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

  “I think it’s nice,” Decker chimes in, eyeing the bowl of soggy gruel that was once Elias’s favourite cereal. “It’s no different than those makeshift memorials that pop up on highways where cars have crashed. It’s a way to honour someone’s life, to remember them.”

  “Thank you,” I say, walking over to the bed. I lay myself down as my legs begin to ache. “See? Decker gets it.”

  “I guess,” Vivi says, unconvinced. “Isn’t this supposed to lure Elias’s spirit back from the underworld?”

  “Something like that,” I say. “According to my wedding planner, at least. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Guiding his spirit back here?”

  “No,” she agrees, taking a seat beside me on the bed. She runs her fingers through my hair. “It wouldn’t be so bad.”

  The drive from the pier to the hotel was more tolerable than I had anticipated it would be. It felt good to be surrounded by familiar voices. Even so, I was relieved to part ways from the others as they retreated to their rooms. It has been a tiring day of emotional shifts, first dread, then elation, then restraint. Vivi and Decker let me recharge for an hour before ambushing me in my room, dressed for the evening’s festivities: a welcome reception at the Terrace Bar with all forty-four guests, then dinner at Otra Luna.

  “Should we head over?” Decker asks, glancing at his watch. “It’s almost time.”

  “A few more minutes,” I say, eyes closed. “I just need a few minutes.”

  “For sure, bud,” he says. “Take all the time you need. You should be fashionably late anyway. Make an entrance.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m worried about you,” Vivi says in her gentlest of tones, spreading herself beside me on the bed.

  “You have no reason to worry,” I assure her. “Considering the circumstances, I really am feeling fine. Is it the altar? Does it really bother you that much?”

  “It’s not just that. It’s everything. The fact that we’re here on this island. The fact that you haven’t been home since the crash. The fact that your wedding is now a funeral but still feels more like a wedding.”

  They both look at me with caution and anticipation, the expression one wears when they have finally gathered the courage to say what has been on their mind.

  I let her words hang in the air. I swear they’re holding their breath. Finally, I look at them and say, “This isn’t a wedding. It’s not a funeral either. It’s a celebration of life.”

  The two of them glance at each other so quickly it’s barely perceptible. “Of course,” Vivi says. “You’re right. But what about the gift baskets? Maybe those weren’t a good idea.”

  “What’s wrong with the gift baskets?” I ask. “You don’t like them?”

  “They’re lovely. That’s not the point. Gift baskets are a great idea for a wedding but pretty fucking weird for a celebration of life, don’t you think?” Vivi’s tone is less gentle now.

  A gift basket was placed in every guest’s room to welcome them to the hotel, filled with things like miniature bottles of wine and scented candles. Tucked in front was a card with a personalized message and an itinerary of the upcoming festivities. I had worked with Maria weeks ago on customizing the baskets for the wedding. The only thing that was changed recently was the message on the cards before Maria’s team placed them in each suite earlier today.

  “I wasn’t go
ing to throw out all those baskets. That stuff cost a lot of money.”

  “I get it,” Vivi says. “I just want to understand your state of mind right now. I want to know that you’re handling all of this in a healthy way, but there are more alarm bells going off than I would like, babe. Like gift baskets. And altars. I mean, we’re on our way to a cocktail party, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Vivi,” Decker interjects. “Enough.” He sits beside me and puts his arm around my shoulders. “We are your closest friends, Coen. We’re on your side. We’re just worried about you.”

  “What should I be doing then?” I ask. “Tell me, please. I would love for someone to just tell me what to do. What is the right and proper and normal thing to do in this situation? I clearly haven’t got a clue.”

  “I told you that first day!” Vivi cries. She springs off the bed and begins pacing the room. “Cancel everything. Come home. Be with the people who love you. Cry. Be an utter mess. Scream. Freak out. That’s what you should have been doing. But you didn’t listen to me. You locked yourself up on this island, alone. And now you’re going to put yourself through this spectacle as though everything is normal. It’s not normal, Coen. None of this is normal. I haven’t seen you cry yet. I haven’t seen you scream. Every time I hear you say that you’re fine, I cringe. I worry about you even more, because you shouldn’t be fine.”

  She looks at me, empty now. A long, laboured breath deflates her lungs as it streams past her lips. I stand up from the bed and put my arms around her.

  “I just need you both to trust me,” I say. “None of this makes sense to you, but neither of you have gone through what I’m going through now. Everybody would handle this differently, and I’m doing it my way. I can’t get through it alone though. I need you both to be there for me. Can you do that?”

  There’s a silent pause before Vivi nods. I look at Decker, and his hands grip my shoulders. “We’re here for you,” he says.

  “Good,” I say. “Now let’s move. We’re late.”

  • • • • •

  The atmosphere in the Terrace Bar is even moodier than usual tonight. Every reflective surface, from cocktail tumblers to the mirror-panelled walls, glints like a gem as it catches the light.

  Most of the guests have already arrived. They are dressed in rich-toned suit jackets and safe black dresses. I make my way through the room, shaking hands and kissing cheeks. I smile through the greetings and condolences. I don’t care what they think. I am going to smile through this.

  I pass the servers balancing trays of champagne, cringing at the smell of it in the air, and steer myself toward the bar. A broad smile appears on Gabriel’s face as he sees me. As usual, he is dressed in black from head to toe. His goatee is slightly thicker tonight, and his sleeves are rolled up just past his elbows.

  “Welcome, my friend.”

  “It’s good to see you. I want you to meet a couple people, but I think they got lost in the crowd over there.” I try to wave Vivi and Decker over, but it looks like they’ve been cornered by two friends from university. I turn to Gabriel with a shrug. “I’ll introduce you later.”

  “What are you having tonight?”

  “Tears of Men,” I say with a lopsided grin and a wink. There is no way I pulled that off.

  “Coming right up,” he says, winking back. Within thirty seconds, there is a glass in front of me with the familiar amber-coloured potion.

  “¡Salud!” I tip my glass toward Gabriel before drawing a long, thirsty sip.

  “It must feel nice, no?” he says. “Having your people around you again.”

  “It is nice. I missed them. It feels like I’ve been on this island for ages.” I laugh, though I’m not sure why.

  “It is not such a bad thing, is it?” Gabriel asks. “To be on this island forever?”

  “No, it certainly is not. I can’t think of a place I would rather be.”

  “But there is also nowhere quite like home, no?”

  “No. I mean yes. You’re right, I guess.”

  A pair of hands grabs me by the shoulders from behind. Vivi and Decker appear on either side of me, protectively close. Gabriel smiles and shakes their hands as I introduce them.

  “Coen has told me much about the two of you,” Gabriel says, mixing soda with tamarind juice for Decker and pouring Scotch on the rocks for Vivi.

  “All good things, I’m sure,” she says with a coy smile.

  “Only the best and most lovely things.” He passes the drinks across the bar, and we clink our glasses together.

  “Are you also botanists?” Gabriel asks, leaning forward with his hands on the countertop.

  Vivi and Decker glance at each other, their glasses frozen in front of their lips.

  “I should say a few words,” I say before either of them has a chance to respond. Vivi’s eyebrows are crinkled as she lowers her glass.

  “What do you mean?” Decker asks. “Like a speech?”

  “Yeah. Just to break the ice, welcome everyone to the island.”

  “Are you sure you want to do that?” Vivi asks, but I’m already clinking my glass against the side of my ring to get the attention of everyone in the dim room.

  Vivi and Decker exchange more glances in my peripheral vision as I continue clinking my glass. The people around the bar turn toward me, but those farther away are still chatting, oblivious to my pleas for attention. The music that had been playing in the background ends abruptly, presumably Gabriel’s doing.

  “Excuse me!” I shout. “Excuse me, everyone! Could I have your attention, please?”

  A few more people notice my voice, but the heavy din of conversation persists from the back of the room. I look around helplessly. Taking a deep breath, I prepare to shout louder when a shrill whistle pierces the noise from behind me.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Señor Coen would like to say a few words,” Gabriel says. His voice booms with authority, but he doesn’t need to shout. He holds a microphone in front of his mouth, likely retrieved from behind the bar while I floundered in the noise. With a faint flex of the lips, he passes the microphone across the countertop to my unsteady hand.

  The room becomes quiet in seconds. Everyone looks at me, waiting.

  “Thank you, Gabriel,” I say with a laugh I hope sounds casual and unfazed. I clear my throat, and the sound rumbles unflatteringly through the speakers. “Hello, everyone. If you haven’t already met Gabriel here, you should. He whips up a mean drink. We’ve become very close over the past few days. He’s been a welcome distraction, if you know what I mean.” I laugh again. Nobody else seems to find it funny except for someone near the back of the crowd, who I imagine to be Clark.

  “Anyway, we just want to welcome you all to paradise. We know you’ve come a long way to be here. Elias and I can’t tell you how grateful we are. Elias certainly can’t tell you because, well, you know, he’s gone. But if he were still here …”

  See you in the sky. Elias’s voice is soft as a whisper. But it’s not his voice. Not really.

  “… he would have been really touched to see all of you. Very touched. And he would want you all to enjoy yourselves. We’re in this exquisite hotel …”

  See you in the sky. The voice is louder, reverberating through the tunnels of my ears. My mouth feels like a pit of ashes as the words tumble out.

  “… on this dreamy island. Even though there will no longer be a wedding two days from now, it will still be a celebration. We are going to celebrate Elias’s life in style. It’s going to be perfect. It’s going to be …”

  SEE YOU IN THE SKY.

  “… unforgettable! Please raise your glass with me. Let’s toast — to paradise!”

  There is an unexpected silence before a few scattered voices echo the toast. The only voice I can hear clearly is Clark’s coming from somewhere to my left. Most people simply raise their glasses, surveying the room with self-conscious eyes.

  Beads of sweat have formed along the top of my forehead. My face doesn’t feel c
omfortable, like every expression is laboured and unnatural, but I force a smile.

  “Please enjoy yourselves,” I go on. “Have another drink. Come see Gabriel. He’ll take good care of you. Dinner will be served in the restaurant in twenty minutes.”

  My lips remain stretched into a warped smile as my eyes sweep across the crowd. With a shake of the head, I spin around and set the microphone on the bar.

  Did that go well?

  Gabriel offers me an encouraging smile. “Another?”

  “Please,” I say, eagerly handing him my empty glass.

  I hear my name from behind and detect the familiar scent of tropical flowers. Turning around, I see a radiant woman in a chiffon dress the colour of the sunset. Her hair is pulled up into a bouquet of curls.

  “Raina,” I say, kissing her on the cheek before wiping the sweat from my forehead. “I’m so happy you could make it.” I mean it. I feel a rush of rejuvenation to see her here, to have someone by my side who understands what it means to be on this island.

  “That was a touching speech,” she says, placing a gentle hand on my forearm.

  “Do you really think so?”

  “It was lovely. And you’re right. Gabriel here truly is a wizard.”

  Vivi interjects then, extending her hand toward the new arrival. “I’m Coen’s friend, Vivi. Who might you be?”

  Raina accepts her hand and introduces herself. “Coen and I just met the other day,” she explains. “We tasted cakes together, and we found the perfect one. It’s a long story. Actually, it’s more sweet than long.” She lets out a pretty laugh, and I see Vivi sharpen her gaze.

  “Raina’s vacationing on her own,” I say. “I’ve invited her for dinner tonight.”

  “Which was very kind of you,” Raina adds as her hand finds its way back to my forearm.

  “On your own?” Vivi says. “I admire the independence.”