Romancing the Afterlife

I Love Lucy's Corpse

The majority of Raccoon Hill mourned the beloved idol of Spoons High. A memorial plaque with her name on it was put up near the principal’s office, and summer school attendance rose 18% that year. For a couple weeks she would be a major discussion on the local news and in people’s living rooms. They used her freak accidental demise as an example of the current generations’ teenage rebellion, lack of responsibility and over s****l stimulation. The event people now referred to as “The Little White Walker Drowning Party” was nearly a movement on social media, her story and memes went viral being shared all the way to Uganda and Japan. A ‘Go fund me’ page was made on her behalf and raised more than $300, 000 for her family, though funeral costs would only be $8, 000, earning them an unnecessary profit from people’s guilt. Everyone in the town had some personal story to share about her to measure their own loss by. Every young female claimed to have been almost her best friend in how close they had once been. No young male could ever fantasize about her again in the privacy of his room without feeling guilt or shame. Concerned mom’s started using her name as testament to how parenting and communication with your kids needed to improve. There was a lot of quiet and solemnness seen in the public for the first few days, people feared accidentally saying something inappropriate or tasteless. No one mentioned the idea of skinny-dipping in Raccoon Hill for a very long time.

Lucy’s mother notably suffered the worst. She was a total wreck from the loss of her first born, who she already knew she had been leaning on too much in recent months. She took an extended leave of absence from work, and forced Lucy’s father to take care of their daughter Mary, when he appeared for her funeral. He had never made it as far away as he had intended, instead he was now the manager at a horror themed bar known as The Crypt located in Wichita three hours away from Raccoon Hill. Mary spent the summer with him and his girlfriend, and their new baby. For well over a week Mrs. Little confined herself to her own bed, lost in her depression. Even when she did return to work, she underperformed but nobody dared to mention it or ask more from her. A few coworkers even tried to be supportive. She never admitted to any of them that she noticed when they whispered around her.

The only person nearly as deeply affected by the tragic loss was Cain, whose family, friend, and acquaintances saw his grief to be a massive overreaction on his part. The amount of tissues he used up crying over what seemed like the loss of his possibility of winning Lucy’s affection was baffling. It was sad and unforeseen, but she was just a girl at his school. He refused to leave his room unless absolutely necessary, and wouldn't speak to anyone about what happened. The morning after the party, Jonas had come by to break the bad news to him and his friend practically collapsed to the floor. Jonas did not know how to console him, as he just kept rolling around repeating the word “No,” in various tones and volumes, and gave no response to anything Jonas said to him. It continued on for so long that Jonas became uncomfortable with just standing there watching the dramatic display, he carefully stepped over Cain and went home. He kindly alerted Cain’s parents of their son’s outrageous despair on his way out.

His parents took a lot of concern for his well being. His mother brought him all his favourite foods and tried to discuss with him the five stages of grief from outside his door. His dad had a hard time having empathy for his son’s broken heart over the pretty blonde girl at his school’s death, when his son had never actually been with her, or was even friends with her. He concluded Cain’s behaviour must be attributed to hormones, so he gave him porn featuring young blondes that he had on hand. When this did not trigger a change in Cain’s behaviour, his dad tried getting him drunk, yelling at him, and forcing him to do chores, but unsurprisingly none of this was effective either.

Days passed and Cain did not bother to dress, bathe, or brush. His housecoat and underpants became his uniform of sadness. His mom would douse him in a cloud of febreze on every trip to the bathroom. At least once a day he sat around sighing while listening to his Lucy Little playlist, that included Lady Gaga’s ‘Disco Stick’, because he believed it was her favourite song (when it was actually ‘Zombie’ by The Cranberries, but that was a secret between her and her dad) and The Beatles’ ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’. Cain started a Lucy Little memorial group on f*******:, not even Jonas joined. He rarely ate the food outside his door that his mother supplied him, instead feeding the food to his pet iguana until it died from an upset stomach. He wrapped it in a pair of his mother’s underwear and buried it at sea, in the creek near his house. He prayed Bowie the iguana would find his way to Lucy in heaven. Cain had suffered a mental and emotional trauma according to Mr. and Mrs. Lewis, Jonas, a nosy neighbour, and Dr. Shelley a psychiatrist Cain had yet to have his first appointment with, but upon hearing the circumstances informed the Lewis’ over the phone.

After several days of Cain's grief crisis coma (a term coined by Dr. Shelley) Cain finally did leave his room. It happened to be the day of Lucy Little’s funeral. To everyone aware of his recent condition, it would seem a surreal event. Early that morning Jonas answered a knock at his door to find Cain standing there. His only words were, “I need the suit.” Jonas argued that they weren’t really the same size and he hadn’t had a chance to take it to the dry cleaners yet, but Cain stood vigilant and unmoving on his step until he was willing to forfeit over the suit to him. His parents hadn’t even noticed that he had departed his room, let alone the house or else they would have been enthralled, and probably investigated the weird smell in his room.

He arrived at the funeral home early in Jonas’ suit, that was loose on the top half and tight on the bottom half of him, as well as having a few marks from the party. He stood in the back of the room, quiet and stoic, as the finishing touches were still being made. The only other funeral attendee there was Mrs. Little, who noticed Cain as she was sorting out last minute things with the funeral director. Mrs. Little did not recognize him and not knowing enough about her daughter foolishly mistook his punctual presence to mean that he had likely been someone close to Lucy. It was not unlike Lucy to have kept details of her life like a secret boyfriend from her. She hugged him in hopes that it might bring her just a bit closer to her daughter. She managed to get out the words, “She’s gone to a better place,” and, “We’ll get through this together” without sobbing. Cain chose not to say anything at all, not wanting to risk possibly ruining the moment, and hugged the poor woman back. It felt nice for him too.

It was a closed casket, as drowned victims often are not the prettiest, and Lucy deserved to have the image of her in others minds preserved. Before the others started to arrive Cain had managed to sneak a peek when no one was around. In the casket she wore her fanciest blue dress that she had only ever worn once before. The panic and stress had been erased from her face, giving her a forced relaxed look of gentle sleep. Her golden blonde hair had transitioned into a dingy sandy brown, and though her face was painted with make up, you could see spots of pale bluish-gray.

Cain had too many feelings to put coherently into words, even in his own head. Out of frustration he jammed his hand in his pocket, but immediately regretted it when something jabbed at his hand. “Owah,” he grunted loudly. He pulled out his hand slowly with the assaulter in his fist. He opened his hand revealing his own blood and the glittering rock his father had given him. A rush of outraged confusion came over him, wondering why the hell his dad's stupid grad gift was in the pocket of a suit he borrowed. Before he could give it much thought though he heard people coming in. He closed the casket quick and quietly and swiftly made his way back to the back of the room, just as Mrs. Little welcomed in the first group of attendees. He grabbed some tissues from a nearby table and layered them where the stone had cut him. It was then that he realized he didn't have the stone anymore, and must have dropped it in the casket. He resisted cursing out loud.

After awhile others made there way in and found their seats. One old lady thought it was classy to have an usher at a funeral, and insisted Cain accompany her to her seat. He sat her next to the gentleman she originally came in with before retreating back to his spot. The elderly couple both seemed content. Certain people did recognize Cain though, as many students of Spoons High were in attendance. Many of them questioned amongst themselves why he was even there. Someone suggested the idea that maybe he had come looking to fight Bruce because of the incident at the party. Rumours of a revenge battle circulated amongst the grieving peers. It did not make a difference though, because Bruce Holden was a no show to his friend-with-benefits'/pseudo-girlfriend’s funeral. His absence stirred less comments and concerns than Cain’s position in the back of the room.

The service started off with pretty standard funeral itinerary. The last funeral Cain had attended was when he was four and his great aunt Henrietta had died on the toilet. The circumstance of her death was the only part he remembered about the funeral. Here he saw a room full of people, some he knew, and most he didn't. Almost all of them he realized had closer and stronger connections to Lucy than he had. Though everyone faced away from him he saw and felt their grief in the atmosphere. It was a sobering experience for him, and it was then that the personal crisis ended inside him.

The preacher was finishing leading the room in prayers for Lucy's soul and well being. Many people recited the words monotone or with the opposite shaky voice of overwhelming emotion. Amber, Jane and Danielle sat in the second left row huddled together like a three headed female mourning machine trying to console itself, every other minute one of them squealed or cried just a little louder than everyone else. Cain stood alone in the back, not showing any emotion really. He felt he had cried enough useless and empty tears the last few days in his room. Even when Mrs. Little went to the podium to give her eulogy and a few people became so distraught they had to leave the room, from her occasional sobbing pauses and the moment that Mary ran from her father's arms and straight to her mother's for a comforting hug, he remained calm and in control. He was starting to feel out of place though.

He considered leaving as Mrs. Little was ending her eulogy. Hoping if he waited for the right moment he could step out unnoticed, and perhaps no one would care anyway. Mrs. Little announced to everyone that the podium would now be open to anyone who wanted to share memories of Lucy. Cain shuddered when she pointed and called on him “Why don't you tell us about what she meant to you? It would mean so much.”

The room instantly all turned their heads towards him, staring with confusion and curious expectation. Cain fought the urge inside him to bolt from the room, instead taking a slow deep breath and stepping forward. He slowly walked to the front wracking is brain for ideas on what he was going to say as everyone watched him intently. Whispers moved through the pews, mostly inquiring to who he was. Every couple faces he'd see someone who looked upset or annoyed with him, as he passed the three girls he was pretty sure Jane mouthed the words “What the f**k?” at him. He stepped up to the podium and Mrs. Little hugged him again, this time in front of a crowd. She went and took her place in the front row and Cain looked down at his audience, nervously clearing his throat. His mind was a blank but he had no choice but to just start talking.

“I knew Lucy. I've known Lucy for a long time actually. She meant a lot to me, as I'm sure she meant a lot to you all. Lots of you loved her lots, and so do I. I love her …...” The words hit him hard, even when coming from his own mouth. He had never thought them or felt them before, and he couldn't explain the how or why. Nothing about it made sense, but something about her had always called out to him, and did so even more at this moment. A loud cough of annoyance broke him from his self-indulged trance. He surveyed the room and saw a lot of restlessness and concern. He was sure Jane mouthed “What the f**k?” to him this time.

He continued talking, throwing caution to the wind and giving into some sort of panicked hysteria he spoke with a little more ease and confidence in his voice, like it didn't matter, “You know, last night I had the wildest dream. It was about Lucy,” he waved his hands to stifle their assumptions, “Nothing dirty, not like that, not this one anyway. Soooo ….we're like in Peanuts, the cartoon? And I'm Charlie Brown, except I'm me, I'm just like in his role. And I've been depressed and pensive, just really f****d up, so I go to the five cent psychiatrist. Who of course is the character Lucy,” he throws his hand in the direction of the old lady he showed to her seat, looking for confirmation that they were following him in his story. Lucy's possibly grandmother shook her head at him, refusing to validate his words, “So I give Lucy my five cents like it's any other day, and I just unload on her. All the stuff I've been feeling and hating myself for. My dreams and goals, even feelings and stuff about her. Like real life stuff that has been going down between her and me. So I'm pouring my soul out to her, and she tells me to 'shut up' and I figure she's about to give me some hard truth, like pulling the football away from me and realize my foot was never meant to connect. But instead, she reaches into her booth and pulls out the biggest pile of laundry you could imagine, and says 'I need you to do this, I've been drowning in it!” With this Cain raised both his palms above his head, revealing the bloody cut on his left hand, “Swear to God.” The room of grieving friends and family were aghast. Mrs. Little and a few others had heard more than enough, and he was immediately and forcefully escorted out of the building.

“Are you crazy?!” Jonas screamed at him sitting in his computer chair, while he sat on his bed staring at his feet embarrassed. It was the next day and Jonas had come to collect his suit from Cain. This was the first real conversation Cain had allowed them to have since Jonas had told him about the skinny-dipping that led to 'The Little White Walker Drowning Party' headline, that he now had several clippings of in an envelope in his desk. He had no realistic plans for the paper clippings, and now felt too ashamed to tell anyone about them. Jonas spun around in the chair and punched Cain in the arm, getting his attention. “What's going on? Are you okay?”

“I'm better, I think,” he said with weak optimism in his voice, as he raised his head to see Jonas' exasperated face.

“That's great,” he said sarcastically,”you're better, now that you are on the news for being an obsessive crazy stalker who crashed a funeral. You think you're okay now? This is your peace?” Cain didn't have a defense, but shrugged to suggest that what he said was somewhat the case, “Buddy, you went from not willing to leave your house, to not being safe to leave the house. Your parents are downstairs discussing whether or not you should move away with the Caldwell's!”

“They don't even know the Caldwell's”

“You know what I meant!” he snapped at Cain. Jonas sighed and rolled the computer chair back, giving them some space from eachother. He looked towards the window that faced the backyard, “I don't want to sound too sentimental or whatever, I just- You are my only real friend, and not just because there aren’t other people that would want to hang with me. I'm much cooler than you. Especially now,” he smiled at his own comment, “but I don't really like a lot of people. Most of them don't like jive with me, you know.”

“I'm sorry,” Cain said sincerely. He got up from the bed and outstretched his arms, “Do you want a hug?”

“What?!” Jonas exclaimed while nearly laughing, “Hell no, get the gross blood sacrifice scarred hand away from me. Who knows what you may have inside you. Just give me an explanation guy. She was just a girl, a hot one who was pretty damn cool when she wasn't embarrassing the s**t out of you, but she's dead. It sucks, and you had a moment, and screw it I'm on your side maybe you had a chance, but she's gone! Find a living girl to pronounce your love to.”

Cain understood what his friend was saying, maybe he lost his perspective for awhile, but he saw the third person view of himself now. His rant at the funeral had been unexpected, not just to the traumatized group, but to him. It was a purge of his soul that was beyond even his understanding. These would be the words he'd use when he decompressed his feeling to Dr. Shelley two days later. There was something though, something that no one else knew, and he had to show Jonas, so maybe he could understand just a little. “You need to see this,” he said to Jonas. “It will help explain …a little.” He grabbed a pair of his jeans lying on the floor that he hadn't touched since the party. Sitting down again on his bed, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Opening it up he scrolled through and deleted a large amount of text and instant messenger messages from upset people. Most of them were inquiries or insults, mainly from people who didn't previously have his number. Jonas watched as he played with his phone, briefly reading some of the messages to himself “Oh geez, okay give me a second.” A minute later he handed his phone over to Jonas. Looking at the phone he saw three text messages:

590-6125: I don't understand it, but I'm thinking of you. Maybe we can hang out a bit before I leave this place for good. -1:51 a.m.

590-6125: Maybe? (smirking cat emojii) (smiling devil emojii) (lips emojii) (wink emojii) -2:22 a.m.

Cain: Was it you Lucy? -Monday 2:01 p.m.

Jonas looked up from the phone. “You think it was her. Lucy sent you these messages?”

“I don't know anymore,” he admitted with a sigh, “but it's freaky isn't it? It fits with the fact I saw her, and then there's no answer. And the emojiis.”

“Well those are just drunk girl talk emojiis, you can't trust those.”

“She said 'before I leave this place for good', do you think she knew?”

“Do I think Lucy Little foresaw her own death by ironically being strangled by panties and drowned by clothes while naked?” Jonas gave him the 'are you serious?' look. “It's probably a prank. I mean how would Lucy get your number?”

“How did any of the irate people who have messaged me in the last twenty-four hours get my number? And a prank probably wouldn't be as subtle, I mean where's the punch line?

“Okay fair enough, but maybe it's just a different girl who is into you, or a wrong number did you think of that? Is there any other girl who might have thought you were alright recently?”

Cain thought about it for awhile. He didn't have many female interactions, unless ...” Janice Gawlhaerich!”

“It's not her,” Jonas replied flat and assuredly.

“What?” It was the only other name that made sense to him, “How do you know it's not her?”

“Because Janice Gawlhaerich is with me. We kind of hooked up at the party,” he explained to his shocked friend, whose jaw might as well have been on the floor, “She ain't perfect, but she's got a lot more going on than people think.”

“I, I don't know what to say. Why didn't you tell me?”

Jonas looked back at him with bemusement “I didn't tell you, because you were too busy having a fit about Lucy.” Cain nodded, acknowledging it as his mistake. He decided to drop the case about Lucy texts for now, and just hang out with his friend.

After a long and arduous apology to his parents, promising them that he was done making offensive public displays that landed him on the six o'clock news, they punished him harshly. He was grounded all summer, lost his internet privileges and had to do enough chores that his dad would be putting his feet up a little more often. Besides that though, they were relieved to see him acting at least semi-normal again, and let him spend his free time in The Box with Jonas. They played some Super Nintendo and Cain told him the funeral scenario from his point of view, which garnered several different reactions from Jonas. His most noticeable reaction was hysterical laughter. Once when he reiterated to him the horrible speech he had given, leading Jonas to theorize after wiping away tears from his eyes, that maybe his dream represented the pressure of emotional baggage she had unintentionally left him with. The other part that cracked Jonas up was how he had cut his hand and then dropped his graduation stone into Lucy's coffin. They both wondered if it had been found and removed, or if she had actually been buried with it. Just before Jonas left to go home and get ready for his date with Janice, he left him with “So what if your dad's Anasazi stone is for real? Maybe she'll come back to life” and as he walked away Cain heard him follow up with, “And kill you.”