I Have Friends in Holy Spaces

11: Memento Mori

I got the call around four thirty in the morning. Surprisingly, I was up, although it was from taking a piss. The phone had vibrated from my nightstand, creating the annoying ruckus that always makes me want to throw it out the window, but since I love my phone too much I never do it.

Picking up my phone and turning it over, I checked the caller ID to see that it was Brendon. Throughout my years of friendship with him, I learned to never ask about the calls I'll get at crazy hours in the night. Once he had called me at two in the morning because he was walking down the street and saw a puppy and wanted the rest of the world to see it.

"What up?" I asked half asleep. For a moment there was nothing but silence on the other side and I almost hung up, thinking it was another butt dial, but then I heard it, the choked sob. I grew concerned, "Brendon, are you okay?"

   What I hoped to have heard was Brendon, but instead it was Clara. "Frank," she began, her voice breaking before sobbing again, "Frank I'm so sorry..." I tried calming her down the best I could do over the phone, "Shhh...Clara it's okay, whatever happened wasn't your fault. Where's Brendon, is he there?"

   That let loose another string of inaudible words and more sobbing and soon I got the gist. My eyes widened and my stomach dropped real low, to the point where I felt like I needed to throw up. "I'm coming over," I stated and hung up before she could refuse. After pulling a hoodie over my shirt and some sweatpants, I ran out the door, not caring if I startled my parents awake.

On my way to the Urie household, I called Pete, basically shouting the words as I ran. I didn't give him much time to reply because I hung up afterwards and ran faster; once I had reached Brendon's house, there were already crowds of people and the ambulance, its fluorescent red lights glimmering in the night sky.

Clara was outside in the winter cold, holding herself in her arms as tears stained her cheeks. She looked up at the same time I saw her and we locked eyes; I slowly walked over there as she strode forward too and we met in a somber embrace as she cried over my shoulder.

"Shh...it's alright," I patted her back, trying to calm her down with my lies for it wasn't alright. I didn't even know what the hell was going on until the door opened and I saw it.

The gurney.
The gurney carrying his body.

  It was then I couldn't comfort Clara anymore than I could comfort myself. We both stood there in the cold, hugging one another with tears staining each others' clothing as the snowflakes sprinkled over our heads. For about five minutes we didn't let go; we didn't want to, but Pete had arrived, he also ran over here in nothing but pajamas.

   "Frank?" His voice broke, making him sound like a lost child looking for his parents, "Frank, what's going on?" Clara and I looked at each other; it was hard not trying to cry again, but I somehow pulled through. I opened my mouth to speak, but Clara beat me to it, her voice wrecked from the numerous amount of crying, "Pete...Brendon's dead."

Silence. There was so much of it the minute the last word exited her mouth. Pete backed away slowly and turned around to face the ambulance in time to see the gurney placed inside and the doors squeak closed, ruining the silence. A lone tear escaped his eye and his lower lip began trembling. He faced me, "Please tell me this is a joke. Please tell me that he's just waiting to come out and say 'Surprise!'." When we didn't answer, he shouted, "No! He's not...he's not dead! He can't be! Please..."

   I took a step forward and put my hands on his shoulders, trying to get him to calm down, but it was useless. "Pete...Pete...PETE!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, finally causing him to stop. My eyes began to water again and I whispered, "It's no joke."