“Yes. And she wants you too.”
“She does?”
“Please, Rye!” Cosmo threw the back of his hand against his forehead like an expiring Shakespeare character and fell into Rye’s arms. “My only wish is that the two of you fall madly in love and–”
“Okay, okay! Shhh! I get the message.” Rye pushed Cosmo upright, a finger pressed to their lips. “Déjà is going to hear you.”
Déjà appeared beside them so suddenly that Rye squeaked. Her gaze darted between Rye and Cosmo, suspicion etched into her face. She turned to Cosmo. “We’re going to start. Get your spooky ass up front.”
If Cosmo lingered any longer he was either going to get himself in trouble or cramp the romance, so he pulled the veil over his face, then sat in the front-most pew beside Royce and laced his hands together. Mom sat next to Cosmo, and he couldn’t tell if her claustrophobic proximity was because she was contemplating that this was his funeral – no matter how alive he was – or because she didn’t like Royce. If it were the latter, Royce didn’t seem to notice, his attention on his phone.
After this, Cosmo would be someone new. He was embracing death, finality, and the unknown, so he could stepintothe unknown. It was rebirth, a fresh start, a rise from the ashes. It was frightening, but not so bad with friends and family by his side.
The ghost in his studio hadn’t gotten to choose when his end time came, and judging by the scars on his face, it hadn’t been a peaceful way to go. Cosmo almost wished that manwashere, so he could move forward too. Being stuck in Cosmo’s old place couldn’t be the ideal afterlife experience.
And if he showed up, Cosmo wasn’t going to scream this time, damn it.
Déjà stepped up front and opened her arms, revealing chiffon batwing sleeves and an ouroboros drawn on each of her palms. “Welcome, cohorts! Death of any kind – of love, of familiar comforts, of the life we saw clearly laid out for us in our dreams – is violent and painful. Change hurts. But we have to move on because there is no other way. The universe won’t let us be static.
“We are gathered here tonight for our beloved Cosmo Koslov, because it’s his time to move on. The person he was, the person we knew, has come to an end. Cosmo has touched us all in some way, and we are better for knowing him. He needs your love and support to start his journey into a new beginning. If you’re moved to do so, please come up and tell us how Cosmo has affected you, whether it’s his sincerity, his compassion, his art, or simply an amusing story. Or if you’d rather keep it private, there are strips of paper and an urn so you can write him a message.”
Déjà pressed a hand to her heart. “What I love most about Cosmo is his authenticity. Both in his interactions with other people and how he presents himself, he is never fake. He is earnest and passionate in everything he does.”
Cosmo smiled. Déjà started to sit down next to Mom, but Cosmo tugged her into a hard hug. “That means so much to me.”
Others came to the front, sharing stories of how they’d met Cosmo, how he’d influenced their art or their lives. Ava said Cosmo’s use of mixed media had inspired her to try her own hand at it, and one of her new pieces had sold to a collector for enough to pay her rent for several months. Bodhi confessed that Cosmo’s unabashed self-expression had prompted vir to come out as non-binary and wear things that ve would have been afraid to otherwise. Mason said Cosmo had said something so profound to him at a party that he’d decided not to go home and take his life like he’d been planning. Cosmo had no idea what he’d said or even that Mason had been hurting so much.
By the time people were finished speaking, tears streamed down Cosmo’s face unchecked. He’d daydreamed about this party being affirming and giving him a much-needed boost of support, but this? This was far beyond the impact he would have expected to have simply by living his daily life, and it meant that there had been plenty of good in his old life.
So many people wrote on the paper strips to fill the urn that Mom had to cut more. Those messages would be perfect reminders that not every one of his past decisions had been a poor one, and he didn’t need to get rid of all aspects of himself in order to start anew.
Stevie hammered at the synthesizer, kicking it into a full gear party, and people took the cue to get up, drink, and sample thehors d’oeuvres. Cosmo composed himself enough to join them, but Déjà took him by the arm and pulled him from the church. Starlight bled through the gauze of his veil, and he pulled it back from his face. Crickets sawed in the weeds, and a soft orange glow tumbled from the broken windows and into the night. Stevie’s rendition of “You Spin Me Round” floated with Cosmo as he and Déjà walked around the side of the church.
She stopped behind the building, and he blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust. City lights glimmered in the distance, and cows lowed from a nearby field.
A wooden cross jutted from the soil at the head of an open grave. It wasn’t six feet deep, but Cosmo wasn’t planning on crawling into it and pulling the dirt down on top of himself. Not anymore.
“Did you dig this yourself?” he said.
Déjà snorted. “And break my acrylics? Stevie dug it. She likes that kind of thing. I’m not sure what you want to put in it, but I figured you needed one to complete the illusion.”
It was too bad he didn’t still have that stuffed alligator from the theme park.
“You got anything of Zedd’s on you?” she asked. “Not sure why you would, but that would be appropriate to toss inside.”
Cosmo had thrown it all off the balcony and already trashed the gifts Zedd had given him, except the garnet ring on his index finger. He tugged on it.
“Why do you still wear that?” Déjà nodded her head at the grave. “Drop it in.”
“I like it.”
“But doesn’t it remind you of shit times with Zedd?”
“Not really.”
“Well… Do you want to spit in the hole or something instead?”
“Spitting on my own grave doesn’t seem appropriate.”
