by Hanna Ruthie
This time she shifts. She opens her eyes slowly, blinking at me.
“Matthew? What’s wrong?”
There’s no much concern in her voice, sleepy as it is.
“I don’t know what to say tomorrow,” I admit. “This speech is shit.”
“Matthew,” she sighs. She sits up a little and takes the phone from my hand.
“Can you take a look at it?” I ask.
“Tomorrow,” she replies, turning off my phone. She puts it on her nightstand, keeping it away from me. “Right now you need to go to sleep.”
“I can’t.”
Josie looks at me for a moment and then touches my shoulder.
“Turn over.”
“What?”
“Turn over. So your back is facing me.”
“Why?” I wonder, cautiously.
“You’ll see,” she responds, patient with me as always.
I turn over slowly and wait. I hear the sheets move as Josie settles back down beside me. Then her fingers begin to travel over my back, scratching lightly.
“What are you doing?” I croak, my heart pounding.
“I’m scratching your back. My Mom used to do this when I couldn’t sleep,” she replies.
I shut my eyes at the feeling. It sends tingles down my legs and up to the crown of my head. Like touch hypnosis it sends me deeper and deeper into the feeling, growing sleepier the whole time. When her hands eventually tire, she stops. I turn back over and look at her. In the moonlight, her sleepy hazel eyes are waiting and they calm me.
“Better?” She asks.
I nod my head slowly. “Better.”
She smiles softly and closes her eyes. Her hair is pulled back into that braid, but the silky strands look so soft in the moonlight. Unable to stop myself, I reach out and brush my knuckles gently against the hair pulled back by her ears.
“Matthew?” Josie’s voice is quiet but sweet in the room.
“Yeah?” I answer, wishing my voice wasn’t as gruff and rough sounding after her sweet tone.
“If I cuddle against you tonight are you going to freak out or go with it?”
“Go with it,” I whisper, not even needing to think before I answer her question.
She moves closer to me and I roll onto my back. I wrap my arm around her shoulder as she rests her head against my chest, her arm stretching across my stomach. She snuggles her head into my chest, just as she did her pillow.
“If you drool on me I’m gonna be really annoyed,” I whisper, looking down at her pretty head.
She giggles, adjusting her head so it’s right over my heart. I’m sure she can hear it thumping like crazy and I will it to please slow down.
My fingers brush over Josie’s shoulder, drawing small shapes against the thick fabric of her sweater. When her breaths even out against me and I know she’s fast asleep, I relax, letting my arm fall. And soon after, I drift off into slumber.
* * *
My eyes open to the sound of the door shutting. I groan at the sunlight hitting my eyes.
“You’re such a baby,” Josie says, shutting the curtain for me.
It blocks out the light and my growl turns to a relaxed smile as I settle back in. The bed bounces where Josie sits down. She reaches over me for the remote and turns the television on. I’m awake now, too invested in… well, her.
“What are you doing?” I grumble.
“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m watching TV.”
I groan again, rolling over on my stomach. “It’s too early.”
“It’s ten o’clock.”
I grumble into my pillow as Josie crunches on something next to me. The soft sound of the television drifts to my ear.
“What are you watching?” I ask.
“Cooking channel.”
“Never too early in the morning for cupcakes huh?”
Josie pokes my side with her finger. “Geez you’re even more grumpy than usual in the morning.”
“I’m tired,” I complain.
Josie snorts a laugh. I roll back over, swinging my arm over my eyes.
“Where did you go?” I wonder.
“Twenty questions this morning are we?”
I pull my arm away from my eyes to look at her. She looks fresh, awake, ready for the day.
“What are you doing? What are you watching? Where did you go?” She repeats my questions to me, raising a brow.
“Sorry for being curious,” I mumble, switching my glance to the TV. She put some pansy baking show on.
“Don’t be a grump,” she says, pushing my shoulder gently.
I narrow my eyes at the television, watching a woman wisk something furiously.
“Well?” I ask. “Where’d you go?”
“Breakfast.”
Shit. I look over at the clock. It’s past ten o’clock.
“What time did that little fucker say breakfast was?”
“Matthew!” Josie scolds. “I hope you’re not talking about Alex. He’s so nice. I saw him this morning and he told me we get the room for free.”
“Only because he likes you,” I mumble.
Josie shakes her head at me. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s like ten years older than me. Plus, he saw us come in together.”
I look over at Josie. She looks down at the half eaten apple in her hand and clears her throat.
“Not that we’re… you know… together. But Alex doesn’t know that.”
Josie looks over at me just in time to catch me roll my eyes.
“What’s that look?” She asks.
“He’s totally into you,” I reply.
“We talked for two minutes. How could he be into me?” She asks like it’s the most ridiculous concept.
“He likes the way you look,” I shrug.
“Matthew,” she laughs. “He saw me this morning. Like this. How could he like me like this?”
“You look cute, that’s how.”
Josie looks down again, blushing furiously.
“Oh don’t act like you don’t know it. You should know better, wearing tight leggings and a big baggy sweater like that.” It’s fucking adorable.
Josie scoffs at me. “These are my pajamas!”
I shrug, looking back the TV.
“And anyways,” she says, frustrated. “I brought you up some stuff.”
She points across the room to a plate on top of the mini fridge. There’s an apple, a muffin, a bagel, and a banana.
“Oh thank you God,” I say, relieved.
“I think you mean thank you Josie,” she corrects.
“Fine,” I huff. “Thank you Josie.”
She nods approvingly and I get up. With my first step it hits me like a ton of bricks. Clay. Clay’s ceremony is in three hours. I walk over to my breakfast slowly. I stare down at the food, suddenly losing all of my appetite. I can’t eat. Surely I’ll throw it up when I see his body. I look over at Josie. She’s chewing on a bite of her apple, watching the television calmly. I spot my phone on her nightstand. Fuck! My speech.
I move away from my food and grab my phone, looking at what I have written.
“You’re not going to eat?” Josie asks.
I ignore her, scrolling through my words. I don’t know what to think of them anymore. I give my phone over to Josie. There’s concern in her eyes when she takes it from me. She knows I want her to read it.
“Fix it,” I demand, anxious.
She sets her apple on the nightstand and swallows her bite. She holds my phone carefully, scrolling slowly through the words I have written. I pace back and forth in front of the bed, blocking the television, watching her. When she finishes, she looks up at me.
“Well?” I question.
“It’s great Matthew. It’s perfect. There’s nothing to fix.”
I continue pacing, back and forth, back and forth, not prepared for the day ahead of me. Suddenly, Josie’s in front of me, making me stop dead in my tracks.
“Matt, it’s alright. Just breathe. You’re goi
ng to be fine today, okay?”
I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t think so Josie. I think I’m gonna throw up. Or break something. I don’t think I can do this.”
Josie nods her head. “Yes you can do this. We’re just going to take it bit by bit. One step at a time, right? Just like how we did bio.”
“Okay,” I say quietly. “Okay, what’s first?”
Josie hands me the banana on the fridge. “First you need to eat.”
“No, I can’t. I’ll throw up-”
“No you won’t. You need the energy, you have a long day ahead of you.”
I nod slowly and take the fruit out of her hand. She waits for me to unpeel it and then she moves away, grabbing my bag. I don’t question what she’s doing but watch instead, eating slowly. She finds my suit and pulls it out. Then, she opens the closet in the hotel room, pulling out an iron. I finish my food as she sets out my suit on the ground.
“I can do that Josie,” I say, kneeling beside her. I take the iron from her hand, plugging it into the outlet. I iron my long sleeve black dress shirt, blank pants, black tie, and black blazer. It’s sort of calming to me, the way cleaning always is. Once it’s ironed out completely, I lay it on the bed. I look around and notice that Josie is nowhere to be seen. I look around the room, confused as to where she disappeared. A few minutes later the door opens and she steps inside.
“Hey, where’d you go?” I ask.
“Oh I… I left something downstairs.”
She’s looking at the ground, avoiding my eyes. I can see her cheeks are a bit puffy, almost as if she’s been…
“Josie, are you okay?” I ask.
She nods, still not looking up at me. “I’m good.”
She takes a deep breath, releases it, and looks up at me. Yup. She’s been crying. She puts on her best brave face, smiling.
“What happened?” I ask, moving closer to her.
Her smile falls. She flickers, like that sadness comes out for one second and then gets covered up again.
“Nothing. I just-”
“You just stepped outside to cry,” I finish for her.
Her bravado falls again. “I’m okay.”
I step closer to her again, now within range to hold her hand. I reach out for it and she lets me take it.
“Josie?” I ask, waiting patiently for her to fess up.
She releases a deep breath and looks down. “It’s nothing Matt. Just all the black clothes got to me. I brought the dress that I might… one day, have to wear to Cammy’s funeral.”
Of course. Insensitive prick. I ask her to come with me to the most depressing event. And the whole time she has to do it knowing that her sister might be next. For her, this is like a preview for the main event.
“Oh God Josie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think of that.”
“No no, don’t feel sorry! I didn’t want you to be thinking about it. That’s why I stepped outside. You already have enough on your plate today.”
Her hair is still braided back but I brush my thumb behind her ear.
“You don’t have to come to the ceremony you know. Just coming here with me was enough.”
“No way,” she says softly, shaking her head. “I’m there with you, one hundred percent.”
I lean forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. I don’t take what’s she’s doing for granted. Her kindness is vast. Always shocking the hell out of me.
“Thank you,” I whisper against her.
“Of course,” she replies. Then she steps away, putting some distance between us.
“Next step,” she says. “Getting ready.”
I nod my head, glancing at the suit on the bed.
“One step at a time right?”
Josie’s hand squeezes mine. “Right.”
* * *
I clear my throat into the microphone.
“When I was fourteen, I watched Clay, along with some other kids in the neighborhood. I’m glad to see Ray and Will here today. Johnny couldn’t make it. He wishes he could, but he had a family emergency and had to stay in Connecticut. But he sends his regards.”
I pause, taking a moment to breathe. I feel that I’m addressing this all to Clay’s mother. A good, strong woman, who dabs her eyes with a tissue every few minutes. She lost her only son, her baby.
“Clay Stevens was like a little brother to me. He inspired me. He always showed me kindness and respect,” I begin.
“His dream, when he was seven, was to be an astronaut. I scared him, told him that when the astronauts come back down from space, their arms turn to spaghetti from being in gravity again. A couple months later, Clay told me he wanted to be the Captain of a ship. I, of course, processed to share with him the plot from Titanic. And then, one day, Clay asked me what I wanted to be. I told him the truth, that I didn’t know. That I simply wanted to be free. And Clay told me ‘You can do anything you want’. You know, it sounded corny then, and it does now too, but it wasn’t. It was this seven year old kid, who was so pure and kind that he truly believed in me.”
I take a few moments to breathe. I find Josie’s eyes in the crowd. She gives me a nod of encouragement and I surge on.
“The next time I saw Clay after that, he told me he wanted to be a doctor. Finally, I did right by this kid. I told him that with a lot of hard work and determination, he could do it. I didn’t tell him about the debt he’d face, or the challenges he’d have, or the hell he would go through. And I’m so glad I didn’t. Because his face that day, it lit up. He smiled at me and he was so unbelievably happy.”
I shut my eyes at the memory. My heart twists, my gut wrenching in pain.
“Every week after that, we sat on the sidewalk in front of his house. He told me what he was learning in school. What his favorite books were. What he loved doing in PE. And for a long time, those conversations were… they were…”
I trail off, tears squeezing out of my eyes. The words on my phone become blurry. I can’t see them, can’t read them through the tears. Fuck. This was not part of the plan.
“Josie…” I croak, needing my life line.
She stands, hurries up to the front. She pulls me a few feet away from the mic so the small gathering can’t hear what we’re saying.
“It’s okay,” she whispers to me.
I shake my head, tears falling. “No it’s not. He was fifteen. He was shot. He was taken from us.”
“Okay,” she whispers. “I know, I know.”
“Finish the speech, please finish it,” I say, grabbing her hand.
“Are you sure?” She asks.
I nod. “I can’t do it. I need you to.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
She brings us back to the podium, clearing her throat. I stare at the ground, squeezing her hand so tightly I’m afraid I’m hurting her.
“And for a long time, those conversations were the highlight of my week,” she continues. “A little sliver of happiness in the form of Clay Stevens. The thing that made me smile. I was so happy watching him come out of his shell around me. I think that Clay Stevens was meant for great things. I don’t know what happened. But I guess, no one ever really does. I do want to say that Clay was fantastic. He was so bright, so full of life, full of hope. He was like a breath of fresh air. He’ll be missed. And he was loved, by me, and so many others. And in my memory, he is and always will be that seven year old boy. The one who dreamed big and often. The one who sat with me on the sidewalk and shared his happiness, and in doing so, spread it all around.”
Josie looks out at the crowd for a second, no doubt noticing the tears streaming from the eyes of Mr. and Mrs. Stevens.
“Thank you,” she finishes.
We step off of the stage. Mrs. Stevens stands and grabs me into a hug. She’s crying and so am I, but it’s nice for the brief second it lasts.
“Thank you,” she says to me.
I nod my head to her and shake Mr. Stevens hand. He sniffles, putting another hand over mine as he shakes it.
<
br /> “Thank you son,” he says.
I nod to him as well and then hold my hand out for Josie’s again. She takes it and we walk slowly back to our pew. We sit and I bury my head in my hands, letting the tears leak from my eyes. Josie rests her chin on my shoulder and rubs my back soothingly. More people get up to speak. Ray and Will, aunts and uncles, and finally Mr. and Mrs. Stevens. The whole ceremony takes a long time, over two hours when everyone is finished speaking. And then, once everyone’s done, I hear a voice announcing that the open casket viewing is now beginning.
I pull my hands away from my face. I rub at my eyes, willing the tears to go away. I have to look at him now. Surely, this will break me. Seeing a dead fifteen year old. One that was my friend.
I watch as people begin to stand, passing over him, kneeling beside him, placing things in his casket. I have nothing for him.
“I don’t think I can do it,” I say.
Josie’s hands run over my back. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. I can’t see him like that. It’s not how I want to remember him.”
Josie rubs my shoulder. “That’s not who he was. You know who he was. I don’t think seeing him will change that.”
I look over at her. “You think I should look at him?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is that you do what you feel is right.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know wrong from right anymore Josie. I don’t know what to do. I think you feel right and this feels wrong.”
“Matthew,” Josie says softly, running her fingers through my hair above my ear. “What is your heart telling you?”
I swallow nervously, looking up at the casket. “That I should go look at him.”
“Then we’ll go look at him.”
“Wait wait,” I say, becoming frantic at the thought. “Not yet. Please.”
“It’s okay, take your time,” Josie says. “We’ve got time.”
And it does take me some time. Maybe even an hour. Just to work up the courage. There’s no one up there, just friends and family, sitting together, crying, praying. I look over at Ray and Will. They’re crying. I should go talk to them. But first…