The Possibility of Us

by Unknown

  “Funerals suck,” I said. I could agree with her on that.

  “You been to a lot of them?” she asked, brushing her bangs out of her face.

  Her hair in the sunlight made my chest ache. Shining like pulled caramel, it was an illicit beacon. When we’d been in California, I could reach out and touch it whenever I wanted to, but now that was just a memory.

  “My dad’s,” I said.

  “What?” She practically fell backward from the force of her voice. “When?”

  “When I was eight,” I said.

  She breathed out, her eyes lingering on mine and asking so many questions I couldn’t even count them all. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  I shrugged. “It never came up.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “No offense,” I said, sucking on my cigarette, “but at Turning Pines, we were kind of dealing with your shit, and after…”

  She lowered her eyes, not needing to hear the words I couldn’t say. “I understand,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Ben.”

  “That’s why I am how I am with Drew, why he is how he is with me.”

  “Wow,” she said, shaking her head, “I’m such a dick.” She sat down on one of the brick planters lining the hotel entrance. During the summer they were probably filled with flowers, but now they were covered with an avalanche of snow.

  “No more than usual,” I said, trying to lighten the mood if it were at all possible. “Besides, it was a long time ago.”

  “But it was your dad.”

  “I know.” I paused. “I should have told you.”

  “No,” she said, frowning slightly, “I should have asked.” She exhaled heavily. “But you seem so together; at least more together than I am. Sometimes, I feel like I’ve been around so long, I can’t even bear to withstand anything else,” she said, kicking at the ground with one booted foot like a nervous horse, “and sometimes I feel like I don’t know anything at all.”

  “I guess that’s being eighteen,” I said, sitting down next to her.

  “Old enough to die,” Cassie replied wistfully, “and young enough not to think about it.” Her lip trembled. “That’s what my brother says.”

  Our jeaned legs were right next to each other, almost touching, the precarious space between them a line we both seemed too afraid to cross.

  Cassie looked away. I could tell she was missing her brother and, considering the day ahead of us, I understood why she didn’t want to talk about him.

  Maybe that was the real reason why I’d never told her about my father.

  “I’ve only been to one funeral,” she said. “My grandfather’s. All my other grandparents died before I was born.”

  “I guess today will make lucky number two for both of us,” I said. “At least you haven’t had that much death in your life.” My cigarette was a nub. I stubbed it out.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” she said, still not looking at me. “It’s just that I’ve only been to one funeral.”

  Cassie talked in circles sometimes, in heavy riddles. In words you knew meant a hell of a lot more than she was letting on.

  “Who are you talking about?” I asked. The sun was moving higher in the sky, hot enough that it was starting to burn my face.

  “Forget it,” she said, stubbing out her own cigarette. “I think we have enough morbid shit to deal with for today.”

  “Only up for one huge revelation before you shower in the morning?”

  “Thank you for telling me,” she said, turning to me. “You’re even more incredible than I thought.”

  The air and silence between us started to ignite into the first stages of a kiss. My pulse escalated as I slid my body closer, a pounding in my gut, chills spiking through me even in the sun. Damn, I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to kiss her until she couldn’t see. I focused on her lips, her petal-soft lips so delicate compared to the tough exterior she always portrayed, and she didn’t pull back. A short breath escaped, an invitation, a way of saying yes without saying it. I moved to place my hand to her cheek when her phone erupted in beeps.

  She turned from me and reached into her pocket. “That’s my alarm, which means it’s time to wake up.” She sighed.

  “Shit.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

  She stood up. “It’s getting late. We should probably get ready.”

  I glanced at my own phone—she was right. Besides, I didn’t want a rushed kiss to be our first surrender. She deserved better. We both did.

  “I guess I’ll see you there,” she said.

  I watched Cassie walk back through the sliding glass doors, wondering how the hell we were going to figure out all the bullshit still holding us back—at a funeral.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cassie

  I headed into the lobby and up the elevator to go back to Laura’s and my room and kick Drew to the curb, but my mind was elsewhere.

  Ben’s admission ripped through my body like a tornado, scattering every interaction we’d ever had into a shattered expanse. His father was dead, had been since he was eight.

  How could I have been as close as I felt to him and not have known that?

  The kiss that had been suspended by my alarm wasn’t helping, either.

  Fuck. At least I could take out some of my anxiety on Drew.

  I knocked loudly and paused before I used my key to open the door. I walked in with my eyes on the ground just in case, but they were completely dressed. Both of them were on one of our separate beds, under the covers—Laura on the right, Drew on the left.

  They needed to spend the night with each other to sleep in separate beds with their clothes on?

  Or maybe Laura had only agreed to go with Drew so Ben and I would be forced to spend the night together, too. Would be forced to spend enough time alone with each other to stop being combative and angry.

  Fucking Troyer. It worked.

  I wasn’t upset with Ben anymore. He had broken right through the facade, and the stuff I was hiding behind it—the soft parts—were now on the surface. There was nothing to protect me if he hurt me this time.

  “Get the fuck out, Drew,” I said, kicking the end of his bed with all my force, wishing it were his dick.

  “Ten more minutes,” he moaned, covering his head with a pillow.

  Laura sat up and looked at me, considering my face. Could she tell my mask had come off? Could she see Ben and I were friends again, were talking again, were on the same side?

  That we had fucking almost just kissed?

  “In one minute, I’m going to jump on that bed and beat the shit out of you.”

  He turned to me, his eyes hard. “I guess someone didn’t get laid last night.” He heaved himself out of bed, moved to kiss Laura on the cheek, and slammed the door behind him before I could rip his fucking tongue out.

  “Wait ‘til you see what I fucking did do last night, asshole,” I yelled into the hotel hallway.

  Drew had no idea of the bill waiting for him. I hoped paying it would be worth sleeping in my bed.

  “What did you do?” Laura asked, propping her head up with her hand.

  “What did you do?” I responded, my head twisting to look at her like I was a raptor.

  “Nothing,” Laura said, shrugging as she headed into the bathroom to shower.

  After she got out, I showered, too, and we continued to get ready for Rawe’s funeral in silence—both putting on skirts and tights and sweaters. She didn’t talk about Drew, and I didn’t talk about Ben, even though it was clear they were who were on our minds, well underneath thoughts about Rawe.

  If only Rawe could have known the drama her funeral would have wrought, beyond just her being dead.

  I glanced over at Laura as she put on her heels. I was glad she wasn’t pressing me about Ben, because I wouldn’t even know how to explain. In the last twelve hours, we had come to an understanding—were engaged in a tentative truce—but that was very far away from being back together again.

  A
n almost-kiss was eons away from even the kiss on the cheek good-bye Laura had received.

  Could you move eons in one more day ?

  …

  The moment Laura and I stepped into the funeral parlor, there was no doubt where we were. Chairs and tissues and flowers seemed to grow out from everywhere like a jungle, even at the entrance. There was a thick solemnness to the place covering everything like sludge. Drew would not be able to get away with yelling “Body shots!” in any part of this building.

  Laura and I hung our jackets in the coatroom. It was dark in there; the lightbulb was busted and there were no windows. I couldn’t help but think about the safe cocoon of my brother’s apartment. In that instant of darkness, and knowing what was coming, I missed it, craved it. I considered just hiding out in there for the service, sitting underneath woolen fabric, fur, and canvas, with my chin to my knees.

  Pretending I was anywhere but here.

  But even though Laura and I were barely speaking, I knew she’d never let me.

  I took a deep breath as we walked into the room that held Rawe’s memorial service. Her casket was closed, a cherry wood bullet surrounded by white roses and lilies. The color of the roses was like the palest flesh against their green, thorny stems. Rawe’s immediate family sat in a row of black like a murder of crows at the front of the room. Their heads were all down and shaking from crying.

  Their tears appeared to be coming as steadily as the snow outside. The sun from the morning had been taken over by ice. The God Rawe loved was crying beautiful frozen tears for her, blanketing the world with the reaction to her loss.

  We took our seats, and Laura turned and gave me one of her patented looks. One that asked, Are you okay?

  I nodded, but how could anyone ever really be okay at a funeral?

  My breathing was shallow; my throat ached. The only time I’d really been okay this whole weekend was when I was lying in that bed with Ben.

  I took a quick glance around. It appeared no one else from Turning Pines had made the trip. Not Nez, our fellow cabin mate, not even Nerone, the boys’ group leader and Rawe’s peer. Maybe it was because they didn’t have Laura coercing them to be here, like Ben and I did.

  As much as I’d protested coming, as much as I wanted to hide in the coatroom, I was thankful. Aside from being able to be near Ben again and not see a bull’s-eye for my fist on his nuts, I got to say good-bye to Rawe.

  She deserved my good-bye, and I deserved to be able to give it to her. That was one of the things I learned at Turning Pines that had actually stuck. The aftermath of my abortion had hit me so hard because I didn’t let myself say good-bye. I didn’t let myself grieve. I blamed and punished and made myself suffer.

  I punched and hated myself until I finally let myself cry.

  Until I finally let myself feel.

  Was that why things had gone so badly with Ben when we left each other in California? Were things still strange between us now because we never really said good-bye—because we’d been too angry to?

  Because even now we were stumbling just to say hello?

  A big photo of Rawe leaned on an easel at the front of the room across from her casket. The brown-gray hair she’d worn in a tight braid at camp was long and loose, and her smile was genuine.

  She was happy on one side of the room, dead on the other.

  There’s a fucking life paradox for you. You may have experienced a million things in your lifetime, but when you die, your supposed happiness is all that matters to anyone else.

  I exhaled, three things repeating in my mind like one of Ben’s drum beats: poor Rawe, poor Rawe’s family, poor Ben.

  Was this how my family would look if we ever lost my brother to war? Or would my mother be too drunk to sit up, my father too stoic and tight in his own uniform to hold her, and me too devastated to even leave the coatroom?

  I tried to fight the chill coming over me at the realization that, if I ever lost my brother, I would truly be all alone.

  What had Ben’s family looked like the day they buried his father?

  I glanced behind me, wanting him to walk in. To be able to look into his eyes and let them take me away from here like they had the power to. Take me in and hold me like they had the capacity to.

  I wanted to hold him, too; to be there for the little boy he was at eight years old, the man he was now.

  Laura glanced at her phone and whispered, “Don’t worry. They’ll be here soon.”

  “He’s fucking texting you now?” I scoffed.

  “I let him kiss me,” she explained. “I don’t think texting is, like, out of the question after that.”

  I pretend gagged. “I sure hope that’s all you guys did,” I said, my hands tight on my lap.

  “Thanks for assuming I’m a total slut. I just met him.”

  “And yet you still chose to kiss him even after that.”

  “Who are you, my mother?” she asked, her blue eyes rolling.

  “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” I said, fighting the urge to touch her shoulder. I could say the nice words, but that was all I was willing to do right now for Laura. I was still pissed at her, even though what she’d said in the lobby when we first got here was coming true. I might have wanted to kill her, but like she knew, like I couldn’t deny, the result had been worth it.

  “I can take care of myself.” She sighed.

  I heard the words underneath, the words I knew she must have been thinking as she said it. You might not be able to take care of yourself, but I sure can. You and Ben might be a mess, but that doesn’t mean Drew and I are. I guess she was still angry at me, too.

  “He’s an asshole,” I said into her ear, “a slimy piece of shit.” I said that, but I couldn’t help seeing him as the little boy he was at ten. Maybe the way he acted had a lot more to do with his past than I even knew.

  “Not to me,” Laura said, emphasizing each word.

  I understood that was really all Laura cared about. I mean, she was friends with me. I was the biggest asshole I knew.

  “Besides,” Her eyes were on the casket. “I don’t think we should be talking about this right now.”

  “I still can’t believe you did that to me last night,” I continued. For some reason, being here, I wanted to talk. Maybe it was having Rawe in the room with us. As our counselor at camp, she had always been trying to get us to share our feelings. I’d never wanted to do it then—I guess I owed it to her to try now.

  “Cassie,” Laura said, turning and forcing me to look at her. “Everything isn’t always about you.”

  Her words were a punch, harder than I even used to punch myself. Harder still because I knew she was right. Even with Ben, our relationship had always been on my terms. I finally gave in to him when I was ready. I didn’t share any of the things that made me push him away for so long. Even as we got closer and closer, I let my secrets still hang between us.

  I never even asked him about his.

  “Fuck off,” I said shakily, my eyes on my lap.

  Saying good-bye hadn’t been the issue between Ben and me; it had been me, making it all about me.

  With me in the way, my feelings in the way, I wondered how it could ever be about anything else.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ben

  “I can’t believe you didn’t bring a tie,” I said as we walked through the parking lot toward the funeral parlor. It was a small brick building that looked a lot like an elementary school, covered in swaths of snow like white icing.

  “It’s not the presidential inauguration, Ben, it’s a funeral. A button-down is fine,” Drew said, his breath as gray as smoke in the cold.

  “It’s disrespectful.” The snow was coming down in pellets, stinging my lips. The sun was gone, just like I’d known it would be. You couldn’t count on anything to stay. Not even a star that was four and a half billion years old.

  “Oh,” he spit, “and attending a funeral to get back together with your girlfriend isn’t?”

&
nbsp; “Shut up, Drew,” I said, walking faster.

  “At least you had boxers to wear. My nuts are freezing out here.”

  “Then why didn’t you bring any?”

  “I did,” he said. “I mean, I think I did.”

  “You sure you didn’t leave them at home to have more room for your condoms?”

  “Speaking of disrespectful…” He laughed, quickening his step to catch up with me. “And since we’re on the subject, anything happen last night?”

  “No,” I said, my eyes on my black dress shoes. I usually only wore them when our band played at wedding receptions. This would be their first funeral.

  “Would you tell me if it had?”

  “Hell, no.” I couldn’t help but laugh. He still had no idea about the bill waiting for him when we left the hotel tomorrow morning. Sure, nothing physical had happened between Cassie and me—well, it probably would have if her stupid phone hadn’t interrupted us—but he would pay for whatever had happened between him and Laura.

  He walked in ahead of me, swinging the glass door wide. Inside the funeral parlor, it smelled like flowers and salt, like old people. He hung our coats on the rack in the dark coatroom and turned to me. “You sure you’re ready for this?” he asked.

  “Are you?” I responded. Cold sweat slithered under my collar as I abruptly rewound back to the last time Drew and I were in a funeral parlor together. When our father’s life ended and ours changed forever, when we became more than just brothers—we became protectors. I pulled myself back to the present.

  “No,” he said, smoothing down his shirt, “but we’re here. What choice do we have?” His lip twitched. I could tell he was trying to block the same memory.

  As we walked through the narrow hallway to the memorial service, I couldn’t help but think about the dead bodies below us in the mortuary. Lying on cold metal slabs and stripped of their blood and guts. That was me after losing Cassie, like there was nothing left inside. Her departure from my life had taken it all. Letting her walk out of my life had been the first cut.

  That was what I would never tell Drew and what I couldn’t explain: needing someone was terrifying.