For Shits and Giggles (complete first draft)

Epilogue

Cuddles was the first of several to commit suicide.

Not everyone could accept that life had gone back to normal. Admittedly, some suicides were accidental. There were still people who rejected nihilism – who still saw the curse as a blessing and way of life. Once it was broken, there was an air of disbelief. This time, they didn't survive their tests.

Cuddles' suicide was very intentional. Like so many others, the trauma and the weight of his actions were too heavy to carry for a lifetime. Giggles had already forgiven him for everything he'd done to her, and everything he'd said. It was the curse. It was all the curse. She knew that now. But she never told him that. She never wanted to see him again. He died believing that she hated him, that his relationship with Giggles was irreparable. And it was— with or without forgiveness, a friendship was impossible.

At his funeral, no one cried. There was no one left to cry. Those who hadn't already killed themselves moved as far away from Happy Town as they could and never looked back. Funerals had become a foreign thing to the townsfolk. They'd been obsolete for so long that those who did remain in the town had no idea how to throw one together.

Giggles was somewhere near the back, behind black-vailed faces she couldn't see. There were a lot of flowers, as if the only thing necessary for a successful funeral were flowers. So many goddamned flowers; lilies, carnations, orchids. She couldn't see them, but she could smell them. The smell brought her back to that day under The Tree where Cuddles asked her out for the first time; they were surrounded by the same flowers then too. The smell was nauseating. She thought back to their first kiss, the subtle excitement she felt in her soul and the hope bubbling inside of her. She thought back to the time he'd taught her to ride his skateboard. He'd been a great teacher. When she fell and twisted her ankle, Cuddles held her with such fervency that it'd shocked her; the love and safety she felt in his arms. In that moment, she wanted to be held by him forever, she convinced herself it was true love. But that was then, and this was now.

She wanted to weep for him, but she couldn't. His death didn't feel real to her. Tomorrow, she would wake up and that pale, hollow face in his casket would be there, smiling, trying to hold her hand just a little bit too tightly. But tomorrow never came.

"You made it," Giggles heard from behind her. She recognized Toothy's voice. He had an obituary pamphlet clenched tightly in his fist. Toothy was wearing a black, fitted suit. He looked polished, put together; even his facial features were different. He had never worn such an aged, weathered expression on his face, even before The Tree.

"I didn't think you'd come."

"I wasn't going to," she said.

"He... wanted you to have this back," Toothy reached into his pant pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. It had been taped together sloppily, pieces of it still missing. She felt the frayed edges with her fingertips, caressing them gently. Carefully. Giggles recognized the piece of paper immediately.

"This is the letter I wrote to the outside. I actually... I thought someone would come help me," she laughed dryly, unfolding it in her hands. Running her fingers down the flat side. "But he destroyed it." 

Toothy looked at her, at the black bandages around her eyes.

"He really did love you, Giggles."

"I know," she said softly.

"He was sorry. You, know, the Tree it–"

"I know."

They stood in silence for the rest of the service, side by side. Giggles had already decided to leave Happy Town. She'd decided a long time ago. The miserable amount of money she had saved was at least enough for a one-way bus ticket and a couple of weeks in a hotel. She'd given the Cafe back to Petunia. Completely. She could sell it now, do whatever she wanted with it. And Petunia was happy to– except no one wanted to buy a Cafe, not in this ghost town. People were moving away in droves. The Cafe would go under soon. Handy's business would follow suit, leaving them both nearly bankrupt and swimming in loans. At least they would have their baby. Their beautiful baby girl, born seven months after the curse had broken– and three years after Petunia first became pregnant. Her name was Hope.

Several townsfolk tried to come forward, tell the police, the FBI, what had happened in Happy Town between 2014 and 2017. There were blog posts and podcasts and religious sermons. When enough people came forward, they were finally taken seriously. Rather, they were professionally examined— first physically, then mentally. Their bodies, of course, were completely fine. There were no scars, no internal bleeding, no missing limbs or ruptured organs. No proof. Nothing. It came out in the local papers as hysteria, "The peculiar case of Happy Town, NY. A town suffering from the same delusion – one of the worst cases of mass hysteria since the Dancing Plague of 1518."

There were more suicides after that.

Giggles' bus left the morning after the funeral. She wore fresh bandages around her eyes and fumbled clumsily with her walking stick– an overstuffed dufflebag hugged underneath the opposite arm. People shoved past her with reckless abandon, wanting only to get to their own seats; genuine empathy became a foreign concept to the survivors of Happy Town. Compassion was replaced with urgency, self-preservation.

Someone bumped into Giggles' shoulder. Her aid stick flew out of her hand, and she lunged for it in her darkness. She grabbed at nothing, instead hearing it clatter onto the ground. It rolled somewhere unbeknownst to her. Without warning, the bus lurched forward. Giggles lost her footing, gripping the side of the pleather seat to keep herself standing. She took a deep breath.

With a second, deeper breath, Giggles hauled the duffelbag above her head. She tried shoving it into the empty space above her seat– the space she assumed was empty, it belonged to her. But the bag wouldn't go in. She shoved harder, with both hands, struggling to keep her balance as the bus jerked and skipped forward. It was a losing battle; she felt helpless, overwhelmed, tired. A second body squeezed past her; but this time, she recognized the perfume.

Hints of jasmine and wisteria surrounded her. Giggles felt the woman's body stretch beside her, her hands grasping the duffelbag firmly. Between the two of them, they thrusted the bag securely into place in the compartment above Giggles' seat. Without a word, the woman walked away, leaving Giggles on her own once more.

But the woman didn't need to speak. Giggles recognized her smell, her slender, cold hands. It was Flaky's final act of forgiveness. An acknowledgment of Giggles' humanity. That was the last time Giggles and Flaky were ever in the same space again.

Giggles slumped into her seat and rested her head against the cool, bus window. She thought of everyone. Handy, Petunia, their blooming child. Their decision to stay in the town and rebuild a life. Lifty and Shifty milked the town's brief infamy for all it was worth. Paid interviews, merch. At least they were doing it honestly this time around. Sniffles completely disappeared. He never answered for his crimes.

She closed her eyes and for a brief moment, allowed her mind to wander; she'd gotten an interstate bus ticket to the last stop. Soon, the town would disappear behind them and so would all of the memories. Except, not really. Not fully. Her mind wandered to the happiest moment of her life– the day she'd almost married Splendid. She hadn't seen him since that day, since the Church. Maybe it was better that way; easier to leave it all behind. A part of her still wanted him. A part of her knew she might stay if he asked her to. But she couldn't. She wouldn't.

That decision belonged to her. The conscious, active choice to– wherever she ended up– never set foot inside Happy Town again.