by Jillian Dodd
Sadly, I haven’t kissed Danny since the night of the party. With him going back and forth to Lincoln for classes and offseason football workouts and me being constantly surrounded by people who are worried about me, I haven’t even had a second alone with him.
But when I look over and see two butterflies flitting around a nearby gravestone, well, I remember what she said. She told me to let myself see a little of God every day. And, for some reason, watching those butterflies offers me more comfort than any of the prayers.
But then, while I am standing there getting my courage up, I watch in horror as John and Sara walk up to the caskets, do what we were supposed to do, and then walk away.
Uh. Hello!?
Wait a minute!
They were supposed to wait for me.
We were supposed to do that together!
And then, boom!
All my comfort and courage are gone.
I seriously feel like I could faint, or puke, or die myself.
I am frozen in my spot, and I want to scream out loud.
I can’t do this!
I can’t handle this!
This is so not the way my life’s supposed to be!
I am not supposed to be burying my parents!!!
The pastor clears his throat to get my attention. He is waiting impatiently for me to come up and do what I am supposed to do.
He might as well have yelled at me, Move it, missy. It would have felt the same.
I know you’re probably not supposed to cuss at a religious ceremony, but I can’t help but scream aloud in my head, Shit!
My hands start to shake, and I think my head may explode.
I am also seriously contemplating jumping into the dirt myself so they can just bury me with them.
I feel a hand on my back, turn my head, and there’s Phillip.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper.
“We’ll do it together, okay?” The same words I used on his dad at the hospital.
Phillip holds my hand and guides me up to the caskets.
Well, maybe pulls me up to the caskets is a more accurate description.
I am seriously shaking.
He gives me a handful of dirt, and together we sprinkle some dirt on the caskets.
And I don’t know where it comes from, maybe the butterflies, but I decide to stick to my guns.
I pick out two roses, put them up to my nose and breathe in their wonderful smell, but I don’t drop them into the dirt.
I can’t.
I’m keeping them.
Taking them home with me.
I’m sorry, but I don’t need any more harsh reality.
I’ve had enough of that.
So I repeat the mantra I’ve been telling myself all week, through the planning, the visitation, and the funeral.
Don’t lose it. Stay in control. Put on your game face and get through this.
You can do it.
And now, with Phillip holding my hand, I think maybe I can.
We turn away from the caskets, toward everyone. I take a deep breath, clamp my back teeth down tight, hold my head up high, and walk away from my parents for the very last time.
And I didn’t know it, but apparently after I dropped the rose, the people who attended the graveside service were supposed to come up and do the same thing.
Say goodbye and drop a flower.
But they don’t.
They follow my lead.
When people start coming up to me to give me their condolences, most all of them are also carrying two flowers.
And I realize I started a trend.
I look around the cemetery grounds and see that nearly everyone mingling about is taking two flowers home with them. For their own, in remembrance.
And that comforts me more than the butterflies.
God, I am going to miss them.
Even Mr. Mac, who comes marching up to me because he is furious with John, is clutching two roses in his hand. He tells me, “JJ, you’re riding home with us and not in the limo with that jerk, John. I can’t believe he just left you up there by yourself. Some family.”
He shakes his head at John and herds me to their car.
The funeral luncheon is at the Mackenzies’ house. It has a much lighter tone because for everyone here, the worst is over. But I know that when everyone leaves, my worst will be just beginning.
Because, regardless of how sweet Phillip is, now I'm alone.
Truly alone.
Last night, Uncle John offered to take me back to Seattle with him. I don’t know John that well. I see him once a year, if I’m lucky. I’m not sure why, but he and Dad weren’t that close. All I’ve ever heard him say is something about John being selfish and only worrying about himself.
I never used to understand, but I get it now.
Phillip’s mom was not happy about his offer.
Here’s how the conversation went:
“JJ is staying here with us. That’s what her parents wanted,” Mrs. Mac said firmly.
“JJ, you’re eighteen. You can do anything you want. I think it would be good for you to get away from all of this for a while. Get a fresh start,” Uncle John said, scowling at Mrs. Mac.
Mrs. Mac grunted. “Well I disagree. JJ, you need to stay with us. We love you.” Then she cried.
How come everybody around here can cry so freely? People must think I’m a horrible daughter because I haven’t cried since the hospital.
I just haven’t been able to.
I’m either very callous or still in shock.
Or something might be seriously wrong with me.
Or maybe not. I think it’s just that I have become an empty shell.
My body is still here, true, but I’m pretty sure most of me died when they did.
And an empty shell should not be fought over, so I pretended to be grown up and replied diplomatically with something like, “I need to stay here and finish high school, Uncle John. Maybe I could visit this summer?”
It’s getting late and by now most of the funeral-goers have left. I’m sitting out on Phillip’s front porch, alone for a few minutes. It feels good to just sit here in the rocking chair, not having to be polite, not having to say, I’m fine, when I’m about to fall to pieces.
Danny strides through the front door.
I know that I’m in mourning, but mourning or not, the boy is overwhelmingly hot.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” I say back. “Please don’t ask me how I’m doing or I may have to hurt you. I’m tired of lying and saying fine.”
“Do you know that in the last two days Phillip and I counted you being asked how are you over 167 times? Then we lost track.”
“It feels like it.”
He grins at me. “So, how are you?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Fine.”
Phillip told me that Danny and Jake hadn’t done all that much fighting. Evidently Jake ended up with just a black eye and that was courtesy of the pipeline. I’m so glad Danny wasn’t hurt. Phillip was right about that. I never should’ve let him risk getting hurt for something so stupid. I mean, if I have learned nothing else throughout this whole ordeal, it’s that life can change in the blink of an eye.
Danny takes my hand, pulls me up, and wraps me into a hug. I practically melt against him. Then he pushes my chin up with his hand and kisses me deeply.
My mind is immediately rendered incapable of thought. It’s the first time in days that my brain has finally shut up and stopped thinking.
Now this is my kind of therapy.
Kissing Danny feels so good. I’d really hoped we’d kiss again. I mean, on the phone it sounded like he wanted to, but this is the first time we have.
“You’ve been amazing through this, Jay. I’m proud of you. Quite honestly, I’m not sure how you’re doing it.” He smiles and winks at me. “But, then, I always knew you weren’t a prissy wimp.”
“Not always,” I say, reminding him of what he thought of me when he fi
rst moved here.
“Well, nearly. Anyway it didn’t take you long to convince me.”
I smile in spite of myself, and feel a chink in the armor I’ve been wearing.
“Thanks, Danny.”
“Seriously, how are you holding up? And no bullshit answers this time.”
“Honestly, I don’t know how I’m doing, Danny. But when you just kissed me, I felt alive for the first time in days.”
He grins big at me and pulls me into another long kiss.
Then he says, “We haven’t really had the chance to talk about the party. I wasn’t sure what you were thinking. What are you thinking?”
“Um, well, I mean, you told me on the phone that it wasn’t just about making Jake jealous, but I guess I have felt a little awkward around you. I didn’t know what you were thinking.”
He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into a tight hug. A much different hug than the hugs I have been getting all day. Those have been the kind of hugs where just your shoulders and arms touch. This is the kind of hug where your hips touch, your stomachs touch, and you feel like your bodies are molded together.
“This doesn’t feel awkward to me,” he says and kisses me some more.
“Danny, why did you kiss me at the party?” He is still holding me close, and I am praying no one comes outside and interrupts us.
“I don’t know. I felt like it.”
“That’s it. You felt like it?”
“No, I mean, that didn’t come out right.” He sighs. “Jay, truth be told, I’ve maybe been wanting to kiss you for a while. And I got there, and you looked hot, and then you had that cute meltdown, so I kissed you. And it was amazing, and I was having fun and thinking this could be something, and I should have just taken you home with me, but instead I thought we’d mess with Jake first, and then the fight happened, and then Phillip whisked you out of there, and then your parents—and I haven’t gotten to talk to you about it. And every time I see you, Phillip is holding your hand, and everyone thinks you two are together, and I just keep thinking it should have been me there. Holding your hand, making you feel better. Why did you ask Phillip to sit with you and not me?”
“I didn’t do it to upset you. I wanted everyone to sit with me, but they told me pallbearers had to sit together.” Then I eye him. “Were you jealous?”
He nods a little and rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, looking uncomfortable.
“Danny, I asked Phillip because I know exactly where I stand with him. He’s been part of my life forever. He’s like a brother to me. And he has this way of calming me down, of relaxing me.” I look at him with a naughty grin. “You don’t exactly relax me.”
As in, he excites me, a lot.
“Mmhmm, I know what you mean,” he mutters before he starts kissing me again.
We kiss for a while.
And while we are kissing, I keep hearing Danny’s voice in my head saying, And I was thinking this could be something.
Which is good, right?
That means that it was more than him feeling sorry for me.
Didn’t he also say he had been wanting to kiss me for a while?
Could we really turn our friendship into something more?
Something amazing?
As in, something that might last longer than his typical three weeks?
The long, amazing kiss eventually comes to an end. Danny still has me wedged up against his body and I’m loving that.
He says, “Now that we have that straight, I have a favor to ask you.”
Sure, anything. I think to myself.
“So I have this problem, I’m dying—”
“Bad choice of words, Danny,” I interrupt him and surprisingly let out a little chuckle.
“Oh, sorry. But I am dying to go to prom and no one will ask me.”
Yeah right.
“And, well, I figured since you probably don’t have a date either . . .”
“I’m not going, Danny.”
“Come on, ask me.”
“I’m not gonna ask you. Going to Prom is like the last thing I want to do.”
Phillip walks out on the porch. I expect him to freak out over me being in Danny’s arms, but he looks relaxed.
“So, did you ask her?” Phillip asks Danny.
“Nah, she asked me.” Danny gives me a smirk.
“I did not!”
“Mac, my man, I’m still trying to convince Jay she needs to take me to Prom.”
“Danny, it’s sweet of you to want to go.”
“Jay, I’m not just being sweet. I really want to go with you, and I think you should go. It’s your senior Prom. It’s a big deal.”
“In light of recent events,” I sigh, “it just doesn’t seem like that big a deal anymore.”
“I think your parents would want you to go,” Phillip says, ganging up on me.
I start to say no again, but wonder if maybe they would want me to go. Mom shopped with me forever to find the perfect dress. She probably would be disappointed if I didn’t wear it.
“Don’t you think it’s a little callous to go to something as frivolous as prom, so soon after my parents’ deaths? It seems, you know, disrespectful.”
I can’t. I shouldn’t.
“Everyone thinks you need to start getting your life back,” Danny states.
“I don’t have a life anymore.”
“Bullshit. You have lots of friends who care about you, and I’m pretty sure if you could ask your parents, they would tell you the same,” Danny says, getting slightly worked up over this.
I look at Phillip. “You agree with this?”
I thought it would never work.
He nods.
“Actually, both Phillip’s mom and my mom agree. Your parents wouldn’t want you to miss it,” Danny informs me.
Then Phillip butts in. “And we’re sure as hell not gonna let you go with Jake.”
Okay, now I get it. Evidently, Danny is the lesser of two evils.
“I mean, come on,” Danny says, “you’ve got everything for it, right? Everything’s already planned?”
“Yeah,” I waver.
“Great!” Danny says, then gives me a chaste, but still delicious, kiss. “I’ve got to head back to Lincoln. Call me. Let me know how you’re doing or just to talk. Anything, okay? Is there anything I can do, anything you need?”
“No, I think your mom and Mrs. Mac have thought of everything.”
And they have.
I owe those ladies big. But I know they did everything not just for me, but also for my parents. They loved them too, and it was their way of showing it.
“Saturday. Six o’clock. Don’t keep me waiting,” Danny says with a grin as he leaves.
Phillip goes back in the house to get a drink. I look across the street at my house. The lights are on, and I’m drawn to it like a moth. I halfway feel like I can just run over there, bang open the door, and hear my dad yell at me. So I run home, bang the door . . . and hear nothing but silence.
I look at the kitchen and can practically see my memories.
Me sitting up on the counter, helping Mom mix a special chocolate cake for Daddy’s birthday. I can’t wait to lick the leftover batter off the beaters.
Mom and I making sugar cookies at Christmas while Dad sets up the tree.
I turn my back on the memories and run up the stairs to Mom and Dad’s room. There, more memories come rushing into my mind.
Bringing Mom breakfast in bed on Mother’s Day. I tried to surprise her, but I had to tell her to stay in bed. I made her peanut butter toast and milk; although I think I ate most of it.
Me, running and diving under their covers at bedtime because I wanted to sleep with them and not in my own bed. Daddy would pretend he couldn’t find me. He’d bounce on the bed, grab under the covers and tickle me silly. Then I would jump on his back and get a piggyback ride to my room.
Me, lying in bed sick with the chicken pox, getting to watch TV all day, while eating crackers and
drinking 7up.
Mom and me playing cards and watching movies.
Mom and Dad telling me to come snuggle up between them when I had a bad dream.
I feel like I’m in a bad dream right now. I close my eyes.
I think I’ve become a memory junkie.
Even though the memories make me want to cry, they also make me feel warm inside, and I like the feeling. I go sit on the floor of Dad’s closet, watching him in my mind, Getting dressed in his tuxedo. He looked so handsome that night.
Mom running over to get the back of her dress zipped up. I love the way he kissed her on her neck and told her she looked beautiful and how she blushed. They seemed so in love.
I grab one of Dad’s big flannel shirts and put it on over my blouse. I’ve worked so hard throughout this whole ordeal to maintain control, to keep it together, to represent my family proudly, to be tough and hold it all in.
I can’t do it any longer.
I run back into their room, throw myself across their big bed, and lose it.
I mean totally, completely lose it.
I break down and cry, and sob, and wail, like I’ve never done before. I have never, ever, hurt so much. I didn’t even think it was possible to feel this much pain.
You’d think eventually my tears would run out, but they don’t. I just cry, and cry, and cry.
And cry.
I'm startled by a noise, flip around, and see Phillip staring down at me.
He sits on the bed and shakes his head at me, as he gathers me into his arms.
“I wondered when you’d finally lose it.”
I can’t seem to choke out a response, so I just bury my head into his shirt and sob.
On Friday morning, I wake up feeling groggy. Finally took that sleeping pill.
I glance over at the clock and see it’s nearly ten, so I go downstairs to the kitchen.
