Bloodless Day

A Funny Thing

There's a funny thing about death. Once someone dies, they're no longer themselves. What they are are memories of those who knew them. And those that remember corrupt their memories, so that they're remembering a perfect version of that person.

I fell for this at first. All I spoke of, all I thought of, was Her smile, Her laugh, how She was witty and clever and nice, gorgeously talented at anything she set her mind to. Endearingly stubborn, won the fourth grade spelling bee... what wasn't there to love?

After two weeks of convincing myself that we'd lost the most wonderful person on the planet, I saw a cigarette laying on the ground, still smoking, and the dam I'd been holding back rushed over to me. I'd knelt on the side of the street, immobile from pain for nearly two hours.

She hadn't been perfect. She hadn't been this amazing, wonderful person all of Her mourners built her up to be, and it hurt. They weren't remembering Her, they were remembering the parts of Her they liked. But that wasn't Her. She wasn't perfect- She'd tried a cigarette. She'd toyed with the idea of becoming a drug dealer- so had I- but we'd never found a supplier- 'never' being a week. We hadn't the guts for such a venture.

She'd been through unpleasant breakups, crashed a few times before The crash, once stole my lamp because lamp- though after I demanded an apology She came groveling back to me. That was the only time we'd ever fought.

So, She wasn't perfect, but She didn't need to be. She was Herself, and that's all she'd ever needed to be, and anyone who mourned the loss of a 'perfect' Her was selfish. They did not truly understand who the earth lost that fateful day.

I contemplated this for the umpteenth time in the past year and fifty eight days.

"Still in black?" Lilac asked as she sat next to me in math.

I nodded grimly. It was day 423. "Still undecided on your groom? What about Ned?"

Lilac shrugged. "I like him. He likes me. I thought the same thing of my last three boyfriends though, so my hopes aren't too high."

I wasn't too sure if this was negative or wise on her part, so I stayed silent, content to doodle in the margins of my dark purple notebook- Her favorite color- until Lilac spoke again. "Why don't you come back to the barn with me today?"

~~~~~

Skip was waiting at the corner of the pasture when Lilac steered her truck around the bend. She flashed me a grin as the window slid down. "Watch this."

I watched, because something Interesting was going to happen. I could feel it in the electricity of expectation that crackled in the air.

The truck stopped.

Skip stared at us. Something about him looked tense.

"Go!"

Lilac's sudden shout spooked both Skip and I forwards, and I grabbed at the dashboard as she hit the pedal to the metal, the truck shooting down the road even as Skip thundered along, parallel to us.

"Keep an eye on the speedometer! I don't want to push him past thirty." Lilac shouted, casting glances between the thoroughbred that bounded ahead of us and the road, eyes dancing in delight. It became obvious to me that this was something she did often, as well as the horse, as the speedometer crawled steadily past thirty. "You're pushing thirty five." It shouldn't have felt fast, but something about the horse rocketing on the other side of the street made it quicker, somehow.

Lilac swore and let up on the gas a bit, slowing the truck to twenty nine. Skip's ears flickered, and I could have sworn the horse seemed almost disappointed as he veered away from the fence and jogged back to the hay bales. "I'm only allowed to do that on his days off." Lilac explained. "Can't wear him out too much though. Oh look, we're here."