The Ceremony

 © Nick B 2008

 
 
This short story was edited, puzzled over and finally returned in the space of about two shakes of a lamb's tail by the remarkable Gabi - Thanks chuck

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“Are you ready?” Janet asked, putting her hands on my shoulders.

I regarded her reflection in the mirror above my own; her face, pale and beautiful, whilst mine was grey and drawn; her eyes, deep and thoughtful, whilst mine were sunken and haunted and despite the careful application of makeup, it was something I couldn’t hide.

I couldn’t help wonder what I would do without her. She was my best friend and proved that friendship in every sense of the word since… well anyway.

“Just touching up the lippy,” I replied, putting my hand on hers and smiling as best I could at her in the mirror.

I donned my hat, making sure to pull the veil down evenly. It was the first hat I had ever bought from a real milliner and once on, I could see what the attraction was. It fitted perfectly and didn’t look like something out of a Christmas cracker.

I was ready.

“You look stunning,” Janet said with a reassuring smile and led me through past the casket.

I paused, running my fingers over the wooden box–which is all it amounted to. “He wasn’t so bad, was he?” I asked. I knew him as an impetuous fool who did silly things on the spur of the moment–fun things, but he also had a darker side; a side that didn’t seem to care about the thoughts or feelings of others. That part of him would not be missed.

“He had his moments,” she replied, linking her arm in mine. “Come on, they’re waiting.”

Scott and Reilly were waiting to follow behind us with the casket and I smiled at them, while inside I felt that deep sense of loss; the loss of James Peter Baker.

Scott and Reilly placed the casket carefully on the pyre and I took my place at the head of the small congregation, which numbered less than a dozen.

‘Is that all?’ I wondered.

I stood at the makeshift lectern and looked out over the people.

The day was bright and sunny, yet cold and as I looked across the assembled people I could see that they too were cold and I needed to get this over with, not just for them, but for me too. I cleared my throat.

“I guess you’re all wondering why the ceremony?” I began. “I mean, I’m not known as a religious person, but it seemed fitting to have something ceremonial under the circumstances.

“It’s not like James hasn’t been dead for a while now, but his ghost seems to haunt us–or me especially and this is hopefully going to ensure that his spirit is laid to rest once and for all.

“All Soul’s Day is a day which in some religions is significant to pray for those souls who haven’t managed to quite cross over into the kingdom of heaven. Here’s hoping that James, who was a troubled soul at the best of times, finds the peace he so rightly needs.”

I nodded to Janet and she set light to the pyre, the fire taking hold quickly as the yellow-orange flames danced and licked through and around the timber. Pretty soon, the casket started to blister and darken, turning black as the heat intensified.

I turned back to the congregation.

“And so it is that we finally say goodbye to James Peter Baker. May he rest in peace.”

Strangely, there was no round of applause, no fanfare and no twisting smoke of a long tortured soul as it fought to stay on this plane, just the welcome heat of the fire and the curiously satisfying crackle of the burning wood.

“That was very nice,” said Janet as we served drinks to our guests.

“I thought so.”

“How do you feel?” she asked, once again, threading her arm through mine and drawing me closer.

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully and I didn’t. It was a strange experience, but somehow it was quite cathartic. “Do you think it will work?”

“I think so,” she replied, hugging me tightly. “It’s quite something when someone goes through what he did. It can leave quite an impression.”

She did that a lot–finding a way to make me feel better even in my darkest of moments. It was one of the reasons why she was my best friend.

As people, we tend to sometime underplay the significance of things that happen to us or that we go through. It’s like the hero who runs into a burning building to save a child. “It’s what anyone would have done,” they would say, but it’s not.

I suppose I had got complacent about what I had been through with James and whilst to me it was just par for the course, she saw it as more significant and that brought home to me the enormity of the situation.

It did make me feel better though. I was relieved that it was over, perhaps the closure over him and what he was, but more than that, I looked forward to nights where I didn’t wake up in a cold sweat worrying about just about everything. Also, it felt nice to be around the people who loved and respected me and had stuck by me even after James.

Once the people had gone and the fire had burnt out, I changed into a dressing gown and my favourite slippers. Janet and I sat in front of the fire with a drink, both exhausted after the day.

The sound of arguments came from outside in the hallway.

“Was too!” yelled Reilly.

“Hey,” I said in a stern but relaxed voice. “What’s all this about?”

“Scott said that wasn’t a real funeral,” Reilly said, pouting.

“It wasn’t,” Scott interjected. “You gotta have a body for it to be a real funeral and there wasn’t a body was there?”

“No there wasn’t, just some odds and ends; memories best forgotten. Anyway,” I said trying to placate a five year-old and a six year-old, both of whom were adamant they were right. God they took after their father. “Funerals are just a ceremony. You can have a funeral without a body. Sometimes when a soldier or a sailor is killed in a war, they have to have a funeral without the body.”

“Why? Where is it?” asked Scott, the six year-old, suddenly looking extremely perplexed.

“What?” I asked.

“The body. Where did it go?”

“That’s enough of that for now boys,” said Janet, flashing me a look of why? “Time for bed. Now say goodnight.”

Scott threw his arms around me and hugged me tight.

“Goodnight,” he said and went to walk away.

He stopped, a look of consternation furrowing his young brow as a thought took hold.

“Um, if we just burnded daddy, does that mean we’re going to have two mummies all the time now?”

Fin