I had taken an afternoon off from visiting Augustus so I could wash all my clothes that were covered with throw up. I’d just dumped an entire bottle of Shout on a single blouse when Augustus called.
“Hi,” I said.
He answered not in the weak, slow voice I’d become used to over the past few weeks, but in the original, incomparable Augustus voice I’d fallen for. “Good evening, Hazel Grace. Do you suppose you could find your way to the Church of the Anus of Jesus at eight p.m.?”
“I think I can clear my schedule,” I said.
“Excellent,” he said. “Also, if it’s not too much trouble, please prepare a eulogy.”
“Okay. May I ask why?”
“I want to attend my own funeral,” he said. “I hope to attend the actual one as a ghost, but since I’m not sure that’s technically possible, I wanted to cover all the bases and have a prefuneral. And since I’m not throwing up everywhere today, I figured no time like the present.”
“See you at eight,” I said.
***
The prefuneral was held in the nave of the church, where they normally held services. There was organ music playing, and candles everywhere. When I arrived, Augustus approached and addressed me like a funeral usher. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said, and sat me next to Isaac, who was the only other person there. Augustus then went up to the podium.
“We are gathered here tonight to celebrate the life of Augustus Waters,” Augustus said. “Our first speaker will be Isaac.” Augustus led Isaac up to the podium, then sat down next to me to listen.
Isaac cleared his throat. “I had originally written a long eulogy to read to you tonight,” Isaac said. “But a couple of hours ago I tore it up. Why? Because I got a call from the Genie Foundation.”
My stomach dropped. But when I turned to Augustus, he was just smiling.
“The Genies said that they’d been doing their usual review of receipts from my Wish Trip,” Isaac said, “and apparently there’d been some sort of mixup. Instead of receipts for a trip to Tokyo, they’d accidentally been sent receipts for a trip to Amsterdam. But when I heard this, I knew there was no mixup.”
I looked at Augustus again. He was still smiling.
“Some people would say that I should be angry at Augustus Waters, even though he’s no longer with us,” Isaac said. “But wherever Augustus is right now, I’m not angry at him. Because in stealing my Wish, Augustus was simply living by his principles: namely, the principle of doing whatever it takes to get laid. He stuck to this principle, even though it meant fucking over his best friend. That’s true dedication to principles, and I can only hope that in my own life, I’ll be able to follow my principles as devotedly as he followed his. Rest in peace, my friend.”
Isaac and Augustus were both now crying. Augustus walked over to Isaac and they hugged for a long time.
“Thanks, bro,” Augustus said.
“You’re such an asshole,” Isaac said.
Isaac sat down, and Augustus approached the podium.
“Our second and final speaker tonight will be Hazel Grace.”
Augustus sat down. I took a deep breath, walked up to the podium, and pulled out a piece of paper on which I’d written my speech.
“Many people affect your life,” I said. “But very few people change it. Augustus Waters changed my life more than any other person has, or ever will. Before I met Augustus Waters, I had never had sex. I never thought boys would like me, and I never thought I would like boys. I thought all I wanted to do was sit alone at home and watch TV. But Augustus Waters opened his heart to me, and made me comfortable enough with a boy to make me want to have a boy’s penis inside my vagina. And when that penis was inside my vagina, I realized I liked it. Not just liked it, loved it.”
I felt a tear roll down my cheek. As I wiped it away, I noticed that Augustus was crying as well.
“I realize now that having sex is an essential part of who I am,” I continued. “But without Augustus Waters, I never would have discovered this, and never would have become truly myself. By making me who I am, Augustus, you will live on, even though you are no longer physically with us. Every time I have sex with a boy, whether it’s a significant other or a one night stand, whether it’s one boy or two, or perhaps even more, I will think of you, and thank you, and know you are there with me, and celebrate how unbelievably lucky I am to have had your penis inside my vagina.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Augustus Waters died nine days after his prefuneral, in the ICU of Memorial Hospital.
I got the call from his mom at three-thirty in the morning. My parents came in and tried to comfort me, but there was nothing they could do. After my parents left my room, letting me know they’d be right outside if I needed anything, I pulled out my laptop and opened up Augustus’ Facebook page. The condolences were already flooding onto his wall. The most recent one said:
“RIP, bro.”
...written by someone I’d never heard of. I knew for a fact this person hadn’t seen Augustus in months, and hadn’t even made the effort to come visit him. So how well could he even know Augustus?
I read the next post:
Dear Augustus Waters,
$$$$$$$ Want to make $150-$200/hour working from home? $$$$$$$
Contact me for a FREE information package!!!
SATISFACTION GUARANTEED!!
It was galling. Here was another “friend” who hadn’t even bothered to call or email Augustus while he was still alive. And now, finally, he reaches out? Is this what friendship had become?
I read some more posts:
Will never forget our Genie Wish Trip to Madrid. xoxo –Jen
Our Wish Trip to Rome was the best five days of my life. I will always love you. –Erika
You + Me + Paris Wish Trip = Remember 4-Eva! Okay? Okay. –Phoebe
While it was annoying to see all these posts from people who didn’t know Augustus well like I did, it was touching to see how he’d made a positive impact on so many lives.
***
The funeral, like the prefuneral, was held in the Literal Anus of Jesus Church. Beforehand, a line of people waited to walk up to Augustus’ coffin, where they would look at him for a while, some of them crying, some just standing in silence. I got in line. When it was my turn, I walked up and knelt next to Augustus, who was wearing the same suit and thong he’d worn to Oranjee.
I snapped open my clutch, reached in, and took out the strap-on Mom had given me in Amsterdam. In a quick motion I hoped nobody would see, I snuck it into the space between Augustus’ arm and the coffin’s silver lining. “Sorry we only got to use this once,” I said. “We’ll use it again someday. I promise.”
***
The funeral service began with the minister recapping various events in Augustus’ life, all of which I knew. While he was doing this, I kept noticing this sipping sound a few rows behind me, like someone had an empty soda. It was incredibly rude, and finally I turned around to see who it was. I was stunned to see Peter Van Houten in the last row, wearing a white linen suit and sipping loudly from his beer helmet.
I tried to forget about Van Houten and just listen to the service. The minister called up Isaac to speak, and then a high school friend, and then an uncle. After the uncle was finished, the minister announced, “We’ll now hear a few words from Augustus’ fuckbuddy, Hazel.”
There were some titters in the audience, so I figured it was safe for me to start out by saying to the minister, “I was his girlfriend. As well as his fuckbuddy.” That got a laugh. Then I began reading from the eulogy I’d written.
“There’s a great quote in Augustus’ house, one that both he and I found very comforting: Taste good but...I CAN’T FEEL MY WHISKERS!!!”
I went on reciting Cat-couragements as Augustus’ parents, arm in arm, hugged each other and nodded at every word. I’d given my real eulogy at the prefuneral. This funeral was for them.
***
The rest of the funeral and the bur
ial ceremony were pretty standard. I tried to ignore the fact that Peter Van Houten was there, but this became impossible when after the burial ceremony he came up to me as my parents and I were getting into our car.
“Any chance I could grab a ride with you folks?” he said. “Left my rental at the bottom of the hill.”
I was going to say no but Mom said, “Sure.” She knew it was Peter Van Houten, but she was also unfailingly polite. So Peter Van Houten joined me in the back seat. I didn’t want to talk to him, but I also really wanted to know why he was at the funeral.
“So why are you even here?” I asked.
“I’m here because Augustus is my bro,” he said. “And bros support bros. It’s the bro code.”
Augustus had mentioned to me he’d exchanged some emails with Peter Van Houten after our trip. But he never told me they’d become bros. I guess he assumed it would make me upset. Which was correct, of course. But they were now bros, so there was nothing I could do about it.
“Would you like a sip?” Van Houten said, pointing at his beer helmet.
“Hazel,” Mom said, but I nodded at Van Houten, and he took off his beer helmet and placed it on my head. I took a long sip from it and he took the helmet back.
We pulled up at Van Houten’s car. “It was a pleasure seeing you again,” he said, “albeit under sad circumstances.”
“Yep,” I said, not even looking at him. “A true pleasure.”
“I’ll be seeing you folks at the will reading, I presume?”
“Wait, why are you going to the will reading?” I asked.
“Augustus didn’t tell you? As his closest bro, he’s leaving me the bulk of his possessions. Not that there’s anything that valuable there, but I thought it’d be the right thing to go.”
“I guess we’ll see you there,” I said.
Van Houten got out of the car. As we drove away, I saw him pull out two fresh beers from his pockets. I thought he’d get rid of the old cans before putting the new ones in his helmet, but in one motion, he slammed the new cans into the helmet, flattening the old cans. It was actually pretty impressive.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A couple days later, I was over at Isaac’s house playing blind-people poker. I dealt each of us five cards, and Isaac picked up his cards and placed them into a special computerized card reader. The reader announced each of Isaac’s cards as it read it. TWO OF SPADES. JACK OF CLUBS. JACK OF SPADES. EIGHT OF DIAMONDS. ACE OF HEARTS.
“Hey,” Isaac said, “did Augustus ever give you that thing he was writing?”
“What thing?”
“He said he was working on something for you.”
“Do you know where it is?” I asked.
“No idea,” Isaac said. “Maybe on his computer?”
Isaac discarded three cards, took three new ones, and put them in the reader.
CONGRATULATIONS. FULL HOUSE.
***
There was still something of Augustus floating around, intended for me, and I needed to see it. I told Isaac I was going to Augustus’ house to check his computer.
I hurried out to my car, got in, and put the keys in the ignition. I looked in the mirror before backing out of the driveway, and nearly had a heart attack when I saw Peter Van Houten sitting in the back seat.
“WHAT THE FUCK???” I screamed.
“I apologize for alarming you,” Van Houten said. “My rental ran out of gas, and I was wondering if you could give me a ride to the nearest service station?” He held up an empty gas canister.
I sighed and started the car. After dropping off Van Houten at the gas station, I went to Augustus’ house and headed down to the basement. I walked past the unmade bed and the gaming chairs to the computer. It was still on. But there was nothing from the last few weeks, except like a hundred emails to Peter Van Houten.
Maybe he’d written something by hand? I checked his notebooks. Nothing. I’d pretty much given up hope when Augustus’ dad came down the stairs, holding a black moleskin notebook. “I don’t know if this means anything,” he said, “but when we were gathering the stuff from Augustus’ hospital room we found this notebook with the last few pages missing.” I looked at the book. The last four pages had been ripped out. He was working on it at the hospital, I thought. But Augustus’ dad said they hadn’t found any pages in the hospital room. So where were they?
My one thought was that maybe he’d brought them to the prefuneral on his Last Not Throwing Up Everywhere Day and forgotten to give them to me. So the next day, I headed over to the church twenty minutes before Support Group to search the anal cavity of Jesus.
But I found nothing. I really didn’t want to attend Support Group, but I couldn’t just ditch when everyone saw me there right before it started. So five minutes into Group I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and just never came back.
***
When I got home, Mom and Dad were at the kitchen table on their separate laptops, and the moment I walked in, Mom slammed her laptop shut.
“What’s on the computer?”
“Just some work stuff,” she said. “Would you like some lunch? Let me make something for you.”
“No thanks,” I said. I was bummed that my search for the missing pages had turned up empty, and just wanted to be alone for a while. “I’m gonna go lie down,” I said.
“Well you’ve got to eat something first,” she said.
“Mom, I am the opposite of hungry,” I said. I started to leave the kitchen but she cut me off.
“Hazel, you have to eat. Just some–”
“No.”
“Hazel,” Dad said, “you’re not going to starve yourself to death just because you’re upset about Augustus. You’ve got to stay healthy. You’re going to eat something.”
“NO!” I shouted. “I’m not eating dinner, and I can’t stay healthy, because I’m not healthy. I have cancer, remember? I’m dying. And soon I’ll die and leave you two here alone, and you’ll be depressed and stare at the walls all day and have no purpose in life and want to kill yourselves.”
I regretted it as soon as I said it. Both Mom and Dad were crying now.
After a minute, Mom looked at Dad, and he nodded. “Hazel,” she said, “that wasn’t work stuff on my computer.”
“It wasn’t?” I said. “Then what was it?”
Mom opened up her laptop and showed me the screen. It was the website for an international adoption agency, and there was a profile of a Hungarian girl that looked just like me.
“We’re adopting another daughter,” Mom said.
“Seriously? When?”
“We have it set for the day after your funeral,” Dad said. “Whenever that might be.”
“We don’t want you to think we’re imagining a world without you,” Mom said. “Just because Ekaterinka’s going to be with us one day doesn’t mean you should feel abandoned.”
“It’s important for you to know we will always be here for you, Hazel,” Dad said. “Every second. Until you die and Ekaterinka gets here.”
“This is great!” I said. “This is fantastic!” I was really smiling. “I’m so happy for you both!”
I ended up eating lunch, and even had seconds. Asparagus burgers had never tasted so not like shit.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next morning I tried to distract myself from obsessing over the missing notebook pages by watching TV. A news story came on about how a kid in our neighborhood was paralyzed when an old swing set his father recently got for free on Craigslist collapsed. It was really sad.
I was flipping through the channels looking for something else to watch when Mom came in, smiling and excited. “Hazel, do you know what day it is?”
“My one hundred and ninety-eighth monthday?” I said.
“No...”
“My seven hundred and eighty-ninth week-birthday?”
“No...”
“I give up,” I said.
“It’s the two week anniversary of Augustus’ passing away!” Mom
shouted. “I’ve prepared a special anniversary picnic for us to eat at the cemetery. We’ll celebrate it with Augustus!”
“THAT’S IT! Mom you’re a genius!” I said.
“I am pretty good at coming up with celebrations,” she said.
“No,” I said, “that’s where the missing pages are! Inside the pocket of Augustus’ Death Suit!”
Without even showering or changing I jumped in the car with Mom and we headed for the cemetery.
***
The wait seemed like forever as the cemetery workers dug up Augustus’ coffin. When they were finally done, I checked every one of Augustus’ pockets four times. Nothing.
Mom hugged me, and began to set up the picnic next to Augustus’ grave. “Maybe those pages weren’t meant for you after all,” she said. “Maybe they were written for someone else.”
VAN HOUTEN!
Why hadn’t I thought of this before? I took out my phone and quickly composed an email to Lidewij asking if she could check Peter Van Houten’s fan mail stash.
***
I kept refreshing my email all throughout the picnic, but nothing came in. Then, after we’d packed up our stuff and Mom had placed a bunch of brightly colored “Happy Anniversary!” balloons on Augustus’ tombstone, I got an email from Lidewij. She’d found the pages and attached them to the email. I tried opening them on my phone, but the writing was too small to read on my phone’s screen. I’d have to wait ‘til I got home.
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