Phantom [h.s]

Thirty Two

By the time Friday rolls around, Harry's coffin has been buried and there is a small mound of fresh dirt over his grave. His epitaph is unchanged, though, still the same simple phrase it was before: rest in peace.

Harry and I stand in front of the grave, hands in our pockets.

"My body's really down there now," he says. "It's weird."

A bird lands on his gravestone, perching on it elegantly. It peers at us, tilting its head to the side in a curious manner. I wonder what it thinks of us, standing here before a slab of stone that has an impersonal and meaningless epitaph on it. I wonder if it knows that I'm alive and he's dead, that an invisible barrier stands between us. Or I wonder if we just look like two people standing before a grave.

"They should have written something different on the epitaph," I say. "Something new and better."

"I don't really care," Harry says. "It's just a piece of rock to me."

"I would care," I say.

"Really."

"Yeah. I don't know why."

"I know why." He smiles knowingly at me.

"Oh, really?" I raise an eyebrow. "Why?"

"You'd want to know what people would say about you after you're gone, even if it's a tiny phrase on a slab of stone."

"Yeah. Maybe that's it." I nod slowly.

"See, I know you." He nudges me and I smile at him.

The bird jumps into flight off the gravestone, soaring off over the trees. Harry and I watch it fly away, the autumn sun shining on its ebony colored feathers.

"I forgot to tell you this," I say, looking down at my feet. "I'm going to a party tonight at Max's. I have to give him his photograph back that I took from him."

"Oh. The photograph of me and him together?"

"Yeah. He found out I took it, but he wasn't that mad. I wonder how he knew it was me that took it, and how he even knew it was missing. He had tons of photos."

"Max can be...strangely sentimental. I always ragged on him for it."

I nod, wishing I had more insight to Harry and Max's friendship. I only know the bits and pieces Harry has told me, and I feel as if I need to know more to shed light on Harry's death.

I check the time on my phone. "Well, it's almost seven," I say. "I should get going."

"All right. Have fun."

I look up at Harry. "What're you going to do?"

He shrugs. "Normally I'd hang out with Wesley, but..."

I frown.

"Hey, it's okay. I'll just talk to Em or something. Maybe I'll sneak into your room and look through your underwear."

I widen my eyes, pushing at his shoulder and laughing. "You have fun with that," I say sarcastically, still laughing and walking towards the gate of the cemetery.

"Don't worry, I'll fold everything when I'm done."

I laugh again, shaking my head. "You're an idiot."

"Hey, so are you."

"Can't argue with you there."

"Get out of here and go have fun, Marx."