Nocte

  “But that’s not what killed you.”

  My voice is stark, and I realize that I’m speaking out loud. And I don’t care.

  Imaginary Finn shrugs. “No. But everyone is just as dead, regardless of the cause.”

  “I’m not ready, Finn,” I tell him weakly. “You can’t go.”

  My body is like ice, my nerves like wood. He smiles at me, the old smile that I love, the one that lights up his pale blue eyes.

  “I couldn’t help it, Cal,” he tells me seriously. “But you’ve got to deal with it. You’ve got to move on.”

  “To where?” I ask him simply. “I can’t go anywhere without you.”

  The pain in my voice is scalpel sharp, cutting through me with precision.

  “You have to,” Finn replies. “You’ve got no choice, Calla. You have to.”

  “Calla?”

  The voice comes from behind me, from beside the road. Within a minute, Dare is sitting next to me, staring out to sea with me.

  “Who were you talking to?” he asks, trying hard to hide his concern.

  “Finn,” I tell him honestly. “But don’t worry. I know he’s not real. It’s just… you don’t understand what it’s like. He’s part of me, Dare. And he’s just gone. I don’t know how I’m supposed to live with that.”

  My voice breaks and I cry and I feel weak. But I can’t help it. The tears just come and come and come.

  Dare pulls me to him, against his chest and cradles me there, protecting me from the world, from my own sadness.

  “Let’s go back to the house,” he suggests. “You don’t need to be here.”

  Here where my brother died.

  I nod, agreeing, complying, because the truth of it is that I don’t know where I should be. Not anymore.

  I let Dare lead me to the house, and I let him prepare lunch for me, and sit with me on the porch until it’s time to eat again for dinner. And this is how my life is for the next several days.

  I go through the motions and I feel like wood, and Dare and my father wait for me to rejoin the living.

  43

  QUADRAGINTA TRES

  I’m dreaming again on the fourth day.

  I dream that Finn and I are walking on the trails, doing yoga on the cliffs, swimming in the ocean, crab fishing. It’s always Finn and me, because he’s not in my reality anymore. He’s gone. But in my dreams, he lives.

  In my dreams, he’s everywhere, surrounding me.

  And then when I wake up, when I look at all of those places he should be, he’s not there.

  He’s gone.

  Today, when I wake, Dare’s waiting for me in Finn’s desk chair. It’s morning and he looks impossibly casual and elegant in his slim, fitted clothing as he sprawls out in the sun.

  “I don’t think I can stay here,” I tell him, my voice husky with sleep and harsh with memories. “Everywhere I go… reminds me.”

  Dare nods. “I know.”

  “What should I do?” I whisper.

  He shakes his head. “I can’t decide for you.”

  “I don’t want to leave Finn,” I say shakily. But Dare shakes his head again.

  “Finn’s not here, Calla-Lily.”

  I gulp, because he’s not.

  “It’s so strange,” I muse woodenly. “I kept thinking that Finn was trying to convince me to go to the cemetery to say goodbye to my mom. But it was really my own mind, trying to make me see reality, wasn’t it?”

  Dare stares at me, sympathy in his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe so.”

  “I need to say goodbye to them both,” I tell him. “But I can’t today. I just need a minute to wrap my mind around it.”

  “Take as much time as you need,” Dare says wisely. “You can’t rush it. We’ll go as slow as you want.”

  He pulls me to him and I stand there, my forehead against his chest, his hands rubbing my back.

  My hands burn and I pull away, examining them.

  I’ve got blisters across my palms, reddish and peeling, because they’re in the process of healing. I hadn’t even noticed them until now, although it’s clear they’ve been there for a while.

  “You’ve been chopping wood,” Dare offers, and I cringe. I cringe because I know why.

  “That was Finn’s job,” I say aloud. “I must’ve… I must’ve thought I was Finn. And that my dad would need wood when we went away to college.”

  Dare nods solemnly in agreement and I still can’t figure out why he would stay with me. I’m such a mess.

  “It’s like my mind was a rope, splintering and unraveling until it was hanging by a thread.”

  Dare shakes his head and pulls me close again.

  “You needed time to process what happened. That’s all.”

  “I’m still not ready.” My voice breaks at the thought of moving on without Finn.

  “I know.”

  Four more days pass before I bring it up again. Four days of my father and Dare watching me for signs that I’m cracking, four days of rain and sleep and silence.

  Four days of mourning.

  Four days of having it hang over my head until one morning, I’ve had it.

  “I’ve got to do it today,” I decide at breakfast. Dare immediately stands up.

  “Ok.”

  I ride on the back of his back on the way to the cemetery, my face pressed against his strong back. I close my eyes and inhale the fresh air, absorbing the sunshine, feeling the warmth.

  Warmth = Life.

  We pull to a stop outside the gates and Dare kills the motor, careful to respect the sacred grounds of the burial place.

  “It’s so odd,” I tell him as we walk through the manicured grounds, stepping around stones. “I remembered my mother’s funeral, but I didn’t remember a thing about Finn’s. We had a joint funeral, but my mind blocked out anything that had to do with Finn. But I remember it now. You were there. I saw your face. You were in the back.”

  At that point, I didn’t even remember him. God.

  Dare squeezes my hand and we walk straight to the back, straight to the white marble headstones that mark the ground.

  I look at my mother’s first, because even though it’s gut-wrenching, it’s easier.

  LAURA PRICE. I trace the name with my finger, sinking to my knees.

  “I’m sorry, mom,” I whisper to her. “I’m so sorry I called. I’m so sorry you answered. Please forgive me. I love you. I love you.”

  I kiss my fingers and press them to the stone, and then I do the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do.

  I turn and say goodbye to my brother.

  My Finn.

  Finn’s memorial stone is white and glows in the late afternoon sun. The writing on it brings tears to my eyes, because I recognize it immediately….it’s very similar to what Mark Twain had inscribed on his daughter’s stone.

  The words on Finn’s blur as tears fill my eyes once again, or still.

  Good night, sweet Finn. Good night, good night.

  I tear up for a thousand reasons, and one of them is my dad. He must’ve paid attention to me over the years after all, because I’d told him once how heart-wrenching and beautiful I thought this particular epitaph was. And when it was time to pick Finn’s stone, I wasn’t in a position to help.

  But my dad had remembered, and this is perfect.

  It’s exactly what I would’ve chosen for my brother.

  I sink to the ground in front, not caring that the earth is muddy and wet, and trace the words with my fingers.

  Good night, sweet Finn.

  He was sweet. And kind and good and funny. He was brilliant and witty and sharp. He was my brother, my best friend, half of my soul. He was all of those things and more. He was more than anyone else ever knew or ever would know. Because I was the only one lucky enough to really know him.

  “I miss you,” I whisper. “God, I miss you.”

  I slump against the cool marble, and I talk to my brother. I talk to him like he’s sitting right here with me. I tell h
im about dad, Dare and my mental break.

  “So I’m crazy, too,” I tell him. “And I always thought I needed to worry about you.”

  I feel Dare sigh behind me, because I know he wants to tell me that I’m not crazy, but he doesn’t interrupt. He just stands aside and lets me do what I need to do.

  “I think I have to leave,” I tell Finn. “I don’t want to leave you, but you’re not really here, and I can’t stay. Not right now. It’s too hard. Do you understand?”

  His cold marble stone doesn’t reply and I lean my cheek against it, desperately wishing that Finn were here.

  But he’s not.

  I’m wiping away a tear when I see it.

  I stiffen and startle and stare.

  A dragonfly hovers nearby.

  Large and shiny, it’s greenish-blue wings shimmer in the late afternoon sun. It watches me, unafraid, as it hangs in the air, it’s gorgeous wings fluttering fast. It seems to be here for me, because it doesn’t move away. It simply waits with me, watching me.

  My heart pounds and I’m frozen in shock.

  “Finn,” I breathe.

  I’m not crazy enough to believe the insect is Finn. However, I am crazy enough to think that Finn is here, somewhere, and that he sent the dragonfly as a sign.

  He’s ok.

  I’m suddenly surrounded by a strange peace, by something ethereal and other-worldly and I think it must be real.

  Finn is bringing me comfort, like he always has.

  “I love you,” I whisper. “I will always love you.”

  The sunlight hits the dragonfly just so, and it makes it look like it winks at me. I smile through my tears, and it flies away. I watch it go, and the peace that has wrapped around me spreads inside, to my heart.

  I’m still in pain, but for the first time in over a week, I feel calm, quiet, hopeful.

  The air around me feels reverent and sacred somehow, and I hesitate to move, to get up, to take a step. But I have to, because I know that’s the most important thing. That’s the point, that’s what Finn was here for.

  To move me forward.

  To show me that he’s okay, that I’m okay, and that I need to move forward without him.

  It’s scary because I’ve never been without him before. But at the same time, I know that I’m not alone.

  I look up at Dare.

  “That was real, right?”

  He looks at me, confused.

  “The dragonfly. Did you see it?”

  He nods. “Yeah, why?”

  “Because… the story.” I tell him the story that I thought Finn had told me, the one that I’d actually read in his journal. The one about the dragonflies. And Heaven. And peace.

  When I’m finished, Dare’s eyes are wide.

  “Do you think it was Finn?” I ask seriously.

  Dare shakes his head. “I don’t know. But it was a sign. Whether it was from God or from Finn or your mom. It was a sign. I believe that, Calla.”

  I’m not crazy.

  I smile and close my eyes, soaking in the warmth.

  It is here, in the sun and against my will, that I feel peaceful for the first time since Finn died. It’s an amazing feeling, and I’m afraid to move, out of fear that when I do, the feeling will be gone.

  But when I open my eyes again, it’s still here.

  I’m still warm.

  I’m still alive.

  And Dare is with me. He smiles down at me, holding out a hand to help me up. I get to my feet, then stare at my brother’s name again.

  Good night, sweet Finn.

  “I love you, Finn,” I tell him, as I lean forward and kiss the top of his stone. “I’ll see you later.”

  We walk through the cemetery arches but before we climb back onto the bike, I pause, staring up at the most handsome face in the world.

  “It was you,” I tell him softly. “You’re the thing that brought me back. You gave me reality. You tethered me, anchored me, loved me. I thought you were going to break me, but that’s just because I didn’t understand. You were trying to help me all along.”

  He pulls me to him and kisses me softly. “I love you, Calla.”

  “I know.” And I do. For the first time in months. I can see it. And I believe it.

  I climb on the bike behind Dare, pressing my cheek to his back.

  Beneath my hands, his heart beats, vibrant and strong and alive.

  I have to live, too.

  I have a reason, and that reason is warm and alive and sitting in front of me.

  The sun warms my back as we ride up the mountain.

  44

  QUADRAGINTA QUATTUOR

  I sit with my brother’s journal on my lap, curled up on his bed. This is where I feel him the most, here among his things. It brings me comfort.

  I open the tattered book, and flip through the pages until I find what I’m looking for… the last several entries. My blood runs cold as I stare at the words… the insane, crazy gibberish lining the page.

  The handwriting is mine.

  “I thought I was him,” I murmur. “But there at the end, his journal was mine.”

  Dare sits next to me, careful of my brother’s space. He knows it’s sacred to me, especially now. “The human body is an amazing thing,” he says by way of explanation. “Your mind knows how to shield itself from too much pain.”

  I trace the tarot card in my hand, following the ragged edges with my finger.

  “I wonder what this means,” I whisper. “I didn’t know Finn ever had his cards read.”

  Dare stays silent, because of course we’ll never know the answer.

  I drop the journal and watch the pages flutter as it falls to the floor.

  When it hits, the cover closes… a metaphor for Finn’s life.

  The story is over.

  I gulp.

  “He did love a good metaphor,” I say aloud.

  “What’s that?” Dare leans closer. I shake my head.

  “Nothing.”

  “Let’s take a walk on the beach,” Dare says with a small smile. “We should get some fresh air.”

  We make our way down the trails and I cringe as we pass the Chapel because I remember the funerals now. I cringe when we pass the woodshed because I remember Finn chopping wood. And I cringe when we pass the pier, because Finn and I went out on the boat so often.

  “That night… when I got drunk. I was waiting and waiting for Finn to come back with the boat. But it was me all along. I was out on the boat.”

  Dare stares out at the water. “I watched for you, and when you stepped onto the pier, I knew right away you were drunk.”

  I grip his hand tighter, but look away. Because God, how embarrassing. All of this.

  “And Nocte,” I murmur. “Those initials were ours. We’ve been there several times before.”

  “Yep. You and me. And also, you, me and Finn.”

  I look at him, sharply now, because I’ve been focusing so much on my own pain, that I haven’t considered his. He and Finn had been friends for most of the year.

  “You helped Finn with his senior science project,” I recall, a memory suddenly re-surfacing of Finn and Dare hovering over the kitchen table with test tubes.

  Dare smiles. “Yes. He probably would’ve blown the house up on his own.”

  I giggle in spite of myself. “Probably.”

  I glance at him. “I haven’t asked you how you’re doing.”

  Dare looks down at me. “I’m doing better now. For a while, I thought I’d lost you both.”

  I swallow hard, remembering the day I’d found him punching the woodshed.

  “It must’ve been so frustrating.”

  “You have no idea.”

  But I do. “At least you still have your memories. My mind is like Swiss cheese.”

  I chew on my lip for a second. “The drawing of me that you did. I was naked and in high heels…”

  Dare levels a gaze at me. “Do you remember the day I based that drawing off of?”

/>   Oh, I do. I definitely do now. It was right before school had ended and it was amazing.

  “I do. But… I found that drawing in Finn’s journal. He’d written MINE all over it. But it wasn’t Finn. I think it was me.”

  Dare sighs. “You asked me for the drawing the night you caught me drawing it.”

  I stare at him, shocked. “I did? I don’t remember that part.”

  I don’t remember it at all. Why would I write all over my own drawing?

  Because I thought I was Finn. Because subconsciously I couldn’t let go of Finn.

  I shake my head and look away. “This is maddening. I remember some things, but other things…especially when it comes to you, are still fuzzy.”

  He gives me a dark look. “Maybe your mind is still trying to protect you.”

  That gives me pause and I freeze in place, my feet sinking in the damp sand. “What would it have to protect me against?”

  Dare shrugs, his face a perfect expressionless mask.

  “You know I can’t say.”

  Frustration makes me want to scream. “The doctors said I need to remember on my own,” I tell him sharply. “They didn’t say you can’t give me hints.”

  He shakes his head. “It’ll come to you. Just know that I’ll never hurt you. Not on purpose.”

  “It’s your past,” I tell him confidently. “Where you came from. I’m sure of it. Because that’s the part that’s fuzzy. How we met. But I did an internet search on you. Nothing was unusual.”

  Except for the part where he’s richer than God, and has had a million blond girlfriends. I absentmindedly twirl a piece of my long red hair around my finger, because I’m the farthest thing from blond there is.

  We sit on the beach finally, staring out at the water, listening to it crash against the rocks.

  I lay my head against Dare’s shoulder.

  “It can’t be too bad. Whatever it is, I was fine with it before. I know that because we were still together when… it happened.”

  When I lost everything.

  Dare grabs my hand, his thumb playing with mine. The only sound is the water, crashing into the shore then sucking back into the ocean. To and fro. It’s a lulling, soothing sound.

  “I’ll figure it out,” I say softly, no longer worried.

  “Yes, you will.” There seems to be slight trepidation in Dare’s voice.