After Elias

by Eddy Boudel Tan

“Look at yourself!” he cries, exasperation beginning to show in his voice. “You’re wearing a white tuxedo. Look at the giant photograph on that easel over there by the stage. It’s not just Elias. It’s Elias and you. It looks like the same photo from your wedding invitation. Is this a celebration of Elias’s life? Or is it a celebration of the life you and Elias were supposed to have?”

  “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about, so just stop.” I look around us and realize that people are sneaking glances at me. My eyes meet Carmen’s onstage before she quickly looks away.

  A heavyset security guard in a dark suit approaches, looking at us both with no-nonsense eyes. “Is there a problem, señor? Is this man giving you trouble?”

  “Look, I’m his brother,” Clark says with an incredulous laugh.

  I consider requesting that Clark be escorted out of the event, but something stops me. “No, there’s no problem. I’m fine. Thank you.”

  The guard takes another careful look at us before nodding and returning to his perch beside a pillar.

  I don’t even look at Clark when I say, “Just leave me alone. Please.”

  “You’ll have to stop punishing me one day,” he says as he walks away.

  My legs begin to ache. Nobody seems to be looking at me now as I take a seat on a marble bench underneath a magnolia tree. Maria is talking to one of the suited guards, moving her hands emphatically. She still has her clipboard, but now she’s dressed in a shimmering silver gown with a silk shawl draped around her shoulders. Her hair is pulled up into a bundle of curls. I have yet to meet this Maria — the lady.

  My parents are already seated at their assigned table with an assortment of aunts and uncles, sipping wine and looking perturbed. I am sure my mother isn’t pleased about their placement a safe distance from mine, which was a late amendment to the seating arrangement. After our last meal together, it’s for the best. I’ve been mostly successful with avoiding them so far tonight.

  Vivi appears to be polite but bored as she listens to my cousin Annabelle, likely recounting her latest sexual escapade. Vivi smiles and nods appropriately, but I can tell that her mind is somewhere else.

  Nina and Naomi are back at the far bar, giggling along to whatever Gabriel is saying. I think his eyes catch mine for a second, but I can’t tell for sure.

  Raina and Decker stand near the stage. Decker must be telling one of his ridiculous stories while Raina laughs along between admiring glances. I can’t blame the poor woman. He is Adonis in a dinner jacket.

  The band looks and sounds exactly as I hoped they would, devastatingly youthful with an artistic air of tragedy. They are dressed as though they’ve stepped out of an opium den in turn-of-the-century Paris.

  As the song crescendos to its end, Decker steps onto the stage with a wireless microphone in his hand. He was the natural choice to be our wedding’s master of ceremonies. It may be a different event now, but he is still the best man for the job.

  “Let’s hear it for Sangre del Pirata!” he says amid the polite rumble of applause. “Good evening, everyone. I am Decker de Gannes, though most of you already know me. Coen asked that I be your host for the evening. I’m told that dinner will be served shortly, so please start making your way to your table. You will find a place card with your name at your assigned seat. ¡Buen provecho!”

  I find myself disappointed that Decker opted against a more animated introduction. I would not have expected him to use the same material he had planned for the wedding reception, but it could have used a little more life.

  I take my seat at the table nearest the stage along with Vivi, Decker, and Raina. We’re joined by my cousin Taylor and his girlfriend, the last-minute trades for my parents and brother.

  The seven courses of dinner progress in a blur. The conversation flows smoothly, but there’s an undercurrent. Raina laughs impulsively at everything that is said. Decker has become a talk show host with his endless supply of thoughtful questions and entertaining anecdotes. Vivi has become the audience, withdrawn and reluctant.

  I eat without paying any attention to the dishes. I taste nothing.

  As our plates are cleared away and wineglasses refilled, I see Javier, the hotel’s pastry chef, emerge from the service hallway that leads to the kitchen. He pushes a cart covered in rich purple linen. Atop the cart are three square tiers of cake that form a pyramid of sumptuous white frosting and flakes of gold. My breath catches in my throat.

  Javier looks at me with a sympathetic smile. He places the cart beside the easel that displays the framed photograph of me and Elias. We’re standing on that rooftop that seems so far away and long ago, holding one another, tears in our eyes with laughter, the city sparkling behind us like so many dying stars.

  It’s time. The conversation at our table becomes quiet as I stand. I walk over to the stage and pick up the wireless microphone. Beside me, the easel flaunts the framed image like evidence.

  I motion for the band to stop playing, and they improvise a premature end to their song. A boom of feedback reverberates through the speakers, capturing everyone’s attention.

  “Good evening,” I say. There is silence except for the sound of the ocean in the distance. All eyes are on me. “I thought I would say a few words before dessert is served. Speaking of dessert, look at this exquisite cake that the amazing staff of the Ōmeyōcān Hotel have created. In fact, Elias helped me choose the cake. It’s a funny story. Raina over here was also instrumental. Stand up for everyone, Raina!”

  She remains in her seat but waves her hand with a shy smile.

  “I know I’ve said this before, but I want to thank you all again for taking part in this celebration. It is not the event it was originally intended to be, but it’s a celebration nonetheless.” An abrupt laugh escapes me. Everyone is sitting straight in their seat, attention fixed on me.

  “Let me tell you about the day I met Elias. It happened eight long years ago, but it still feels like yesterday. It was the happiest day of my life.”

  A glance passes between Vivi and Decker. It’s furtive, but I catch it.

  “It was a spring afternoon at home in Vancouver. I was reading in my favourite courtyard. I loved that spot because it was filled with the most magnificent magnolia trees. They created a cloud of pink when the flowers were in bloom, which only happened for a few weeks of the year. They were in bloom that day. It was heaven, much like where we are tonight at the Ōmeyōcān.”

  My mother’s face is bowed toward the floor. Her head shakes ever so slightly.

  “All of a sudden, a book landed on the ground beside me. It was an old copy of Peter Pan. I looked up and there on the rooftop, peering down into the courtyard at me, was the most captivating man I had ever seen. He had dropped his book, you see. He came down to meet me, and he looked like a prince as he emerged from the gate. His hair was the darkest shade of black. So were his eyes. They’d reflect the light like satellites shining in the night sky. For those of you who don’t believe in love at first sight, take it from me — it’s real.”

  I hear a dull hum as my eyes land on Clark. It looks like he wants to say something, but my mother places her hand on his shoulder as a quiet restraint.

  “Elias took a seat beside me on the ground. He held his book in his hand, and he said to me, ‘One day I am going to fly. Just like Peter.’”

  Vivi closes her eyes with a resigned sigh. I look around the room. Everyone appears so spectacularly sad.

  “Elias was right. One day he would fly. All he ever dreamed about was the sky. The sky took him away from me. Maybe that’s where he belonged all along.”

  See you in the sky.

  The lights that criss-cross above the courtyard go dim for a second before brightening again.

  I take a deep breath. “Elias changed my life. I never imagined myself having the things Elias gave me. A loving partner. Hope for a happy future in which anything would be possible. He saved me, didn’t he, Mom?”

  She forces a tight smile,
despite the tears forming in her eyes.

  Perhaps you’re better off this way.

  The lights above us flicker again as I feel one gentle stab of a needle deep beneath my skin. And then another.

  “We built a life together. We made a home. We covered our walls with photos from our adventures. I let him fill the place with aviation maps and airplanes because he tolerated my plants and books, which were everywhere.”

  Another abrupt laugh escapes me, but nobody seems to join in. I look at Decker, hoping to see his wholesome grin, only to see his face set like stone. My gaze falls on Vivi, and there is something I don’t often see in her eyes. Fear.

  This is happening again?

  I take another ragged inhale as the lanterns flicker from the columned halls that surround the courtyard. I should have seen it coming. It was lurking behind the light this entire time. As the needles become sharper, I can’t deny its presence now.

  The shadow embraces me, kissing the back of my neck. My skin goes cold while my blood burns hot.

  “Elias and I were happy.”

  Maria stands beside a nearby pillar. The motherliness I was offered at one time has returned, her face soft with compassion.

  Do not be fooled by happiness. It can wilt and die, especially when kept in a house of glass.

  The shadow whispers in my ear, and the hum becomes louder.

  “That day in the courtyard eight years ago was like a dream — a vivid, unbelievable dream. I anticipated waking up at any moment to find that none of it was real, but I never did. The dream just continued until I began to think there may be nothing to wake up from.”

  Gabriel watches me intently. His hands grip the bar he stands behind. His eyes are dark and piercing.

  Nothing will hurt more than the pain you inflict on yourself.

  “I suppose I’ve woken up now. It was just a dream after all.”

  The shadow holds me by the eyes and draws my vision toward Clark. He looks away.

  You look so happy. I want to believe it. I really do. But I know how good you are at pretending.

  The hum is louder now. The needles are sharper.

  “Elias …”

  I look at his handsome face. His eyes are alive behind the glass of the frame. The city shimmers behind us like a curtain of stars.

  “What happened to you?”

  My laughing face in that moment is frozen, eyelids crinkled and teeth on display. We hold each other, undeniably in love. It was real. Wasn’t it?

  “You didn’t want any of this, did you? You fucking coward.” The words slip past my lips like they’ve been waiting for the time to be right. They would be inaudible without the microphone, such a quiet accusation. “Answer me!”

  The shadow has taken control now. It grips my entire body — every limb, every organ. It is in my blood, flooding my veins with fear. It feels like fire as it simmers and smoulders. Every part of me screams.

  I desperately attempt the focusing exercises I was taught long ago, but they won’t help now. My vision focuses and blurs uncontrollably. When it’s clear, I see the distress on their faces. They can see I’ve been consumed.

  “You did this,” I say, as though uncovering a terrible truth as my eyes scan the room. “All of you. You let this happen.”

  Tears stream down Vivi’s face like thin strokes of black paint.

  “None of you loved him. None of you gave a shit about him. You all let him die.”

  People stand from their seats now. There is noise I can’t quite hear over the shadow’s whispers.

  “None of you wanted us to be happy. None of you believed in us. You just stood by and watched. Just like you did with me years ago, you stood and watched and did nothing.”

  Through the smokiness of my vision, I see a figure come toward me.

  It’s a shadow.

  A jaguar.

  A warrior.

  An invader.

  A demon.

  A saint.

  My arm swings at the figure. A dull sensation explodes in my fist as bone connects with bone. I fall on the figure, fists lashing out in front of me.

  The smoke begins to clear as I’m pulled away by force. In an instant, the shadow is gone. I am sprawled on the ground with hands gripping my arms and legs. There are people standing all around me. I feel something coarse underneath me and realize that the ground is covered in shattered pebbles of glass. The easel and its frame are lying broken by my side. There is blood on my hands.

  Movement and noise surround the figure I knocked to the ground. I wrench myself from the grip of the hands that hold me and climb to my feet. Stepping closer, I see that it wasn’t a shadow after all. Neither demon nor saint.

  There lies my brother. Blood is matted into his hair and caked on his face.

  I can’t look anymore.

  Before I realize what is happening, I’m running. I run through the crowd. I run past the overturned chairs and beneath the dying magnolias. I run through the far gate and across the beach. The moon watches above me, a witness. I keep running until I feel the waves wash over me. I am cleansed in the coldness of the ocean. It relieves me of every weight I’ve ever had to bear.

  “Let me be free,” I say. “Let me be free.”

  Part Two

  A New Year and an Old Friend

  THE CHAMBER

  Eight years before the crash

  I can’t remember life before the shadow. It is closer to me than family. There have been times when it would come nearly every day. These were the bad years. Nowadays it often hides away, sometimes for months at a time. Then as soon as I dare believe it has left me for good, it returns for a visit. I used to find it amusing to read about Peter Pan chasing his mischievous shadow. My shadow chases me.

  I was never afraid of the shadow as a young boy, even though I would sometimes find myself screaming in the middle of the night. I learned to be fearful as the years went by. With age came the understanding there was reason for fear.

  Humans adapt. I learned how to manage. I met with specialists. I practised coping techniques. I swallowed whatever pills were prescribed before I flushed them down the toilet and refused to take more — they were not good for me. I figured out how to smile through the pain, how to get out of bed every day, how to be normal. I was doing well. There were days when I forgot the shadow existed at all.

  Everything changed at the age of twenty-two. It was the beginning of a new year when I was reminded of something worse than the shadow. This was before Elias entered my life, though we’d been living in the same city for years at that point. He was so close yet still a stranger.

  “Looking sharp,” Clark said to me when I arrived at the party. I felt sharp. It had been a good year. After an era of feeling alienated in my sheltered suburb, university had given me a sense of belonging I’d never felt before. I was accepted despite my flaws. In fact, I was made more interesting because of them.

  I had started to let myself take chances. I even spent the previous summer travelling through Europe with Vivi and Decker. We got into trouble and danced until sunrise and laughed like we would be young forever. It was an intoxicating feeling, what I could only describe as happiness. The more familiar this feeling became, the easier it was to forget about everything else.

  As I stepped into the ballroom that evening, surrounded by beauty and success, I felt like I belonged there. Not because of my bespoke tuxedo. Not because of the elegant woman by my side, who also happened to be my closest friend. Not because my father was Calvin Caraway or because my mother sat on the board of the foundation throwing the event. I belonged because I was there to celebrate the start of a new year, like everyone else, and for the first time in a long time I was excited about what lay ahead.

  Even Clark’s nod of approval was welcome validation, though I was more interested in the man standing beside him.

  “Happy new year,” Adam said to me, the corners of his lips curling up into an easy smile. My nerves began to tickle as he grabbed my hand i
n his.

  Adam had captivated me since the moment he entered Clark’s apartment four months earlier, the muscles on his chest creating peaks and valleys underneath his fitted polo shirt. He gravitated to me during that barbecue Clark was hosting, and that summer had given me courage I’d never possessed before then. We spent the evening laughing as we discreetly observed and mocked Clark’s vacuous friends. His spell had been cast.

  I thought it unfortunate at the time that he was the loving husband of a woman named Theresa and the proud father of twin girls. On that first night, Adam had opened his wallet to reveal a photograph of his family. They were a daydream of wholesome good looks and commodified happiness. Normally, I would have scoffed at such a conventional life — more a Coca-Cola advertisement than a way to live — but I found myself admiring its simplicity. I wanted a sliver of what Adam had, perhaps a sliver of Adam himself. I sensed him wanting a part of what I had as well.

  To complicate things further, Adam was Clark’s boss at the real estate firm where he worked. It was inconvenient to find myself enamoured with a man who had a wife, two daughters, and an employee sharing the same DNA as me. Not that it mattered. I would never have acted upon my impulses, regardless of the circumstances. I certainly would never have predicted what would happen that New Year’s Eve.

  The night was a glittering, shimmering blur. I had never felt more assured of myself than I did that night. Perhaps it was the sparkle of the champagne, or the passing looks of approval from strangers, or the collective anticipation of forgetting what had passed and ushering in what was to come, but optimism warmed me from inside as Vivi and I glided through the room like we were untouchable.

  Midnight came and we toasted beneath a shower of gold balloons as the band played “Auld Lang Syne.” I kissed Vivi on the lips and my mother on the cheek. My father shook my hand, and I pulled him in for a hug. Clark and I wrapped our arms around each other. “Happy new year, little brother,” he said.

  At one point in the night, long after midnight when the crowd had begun to thin, I found myself at the upstairs bar with Adam. He wasn’t as tidy as he had been earlier. His bow tie hung loosely around his neck, and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. It was also clear he was no longer in need of another drink. Even so, he looked like a movie star.