“Here, try and wipe it off…” I scrub the towel against my sensitive skin, intensifying the burn as the cotton draws the liquid deeper into my skin.
“What did you use?!”
“I–errr…” He picks up the bottle, his lips rolling inward to suppress the laughter creeping out of the corners of his mouth, “It was an accident, Iswear.” Swiping the bottle from his hands, I examine the label.
“AFTERSHAVE? What about this is appropriate to useafter a shave?” Zander doubles over with laughter as I stick my head as far under the cold tap as I can reach, trying to soothe the increasing burn. I can’t turn up to my Mom’s funeral with–what feels like–a third degree burn across half of my face.
We arrived at the crematorium just as people were starting to line up beside the entrance. I recognised a few of Mom’s work colleagues, as well as distant family members– the ones you only see at weddings and, well… yeah, days like today. Impossible as it may seem, Mom’s passing was starting to feel less like the end, and more like the start of forever. I didn’t want to hear her then, but I’m not afraid to admit it now; not knowing about her condition was what enabled me to stand here today, stronger in the knowledge that even though a heart can be broken, the right person can hold it together. She gave both Zander and me everything we needed, through every stage of our lives to reach this point, side by side, with our heads up and happiness shining alongside the tears in our eyes. Through hope and sorrow, through laughter and tears, she’s right at the centre of it all. Her life was full of purpose and meaning; she left behind an earth that’s better for having her on it, even if it was just for a little while.
So, standing beside the coffin that holds her body, I know it’s just that. Nothing on this earth could ever contain the force that she was. It’s not the end, it’s just the beginning of the story she wrote the prologue to. Mom will live on through everything I do. She’s in every breath that I take. Just as she’s in every ounce of love that I feel and offer in return. It’s all an extension of her, and the love she gave me so fiercely. I don’t say goodbye because goodbye feels too much like forever, so instead, I say thank you. Thank you for showing me the true meaning of happiness, for always choosing kindness, and for giving that to Zander too.
“True colors”fills the space as we bow our heads and reflect on our time together. Large, dependable hands find my own, and warmth seeps into my side.
“She sang this to me. That night, when my mind was shutting down, this song was the last thing I heard, and her face was the last thing I remember seeing,” Zander whispers between us. Tears fall freely now, but they’re not from sadness or longing. They’re full of gratitude and peace, knowing that in his time of need, she comforted him the same way she would me. He truly was a son to her, because she knew that he’s always been everything to me.
The kind of love that Zander and I have is born from the deepest form of friendship. It’s the same kind that shaped us as children, carried us through adolescence, and matured right alongside us. It’s soul deep and etched into our genetic makeup. It’s knowing we can be our true, authentic selves without explanation. It’s too big for words, and too vast for one lifetime alone. It will flow through us, and into the spaces all around, it will follow us through this life and into all the ones that come after.
He may have held my hand all those years ago, but now he holds everything else too.
Epilogue
Zander – Ten years later
Age 30
This is it. Twenty-five years in the making, and we finally made it. Today is the day I get to marry my best friend. I’ve been walking the same route up and down the floral carpet for the last forty-five minutes, trying to quell the urge to bring order to my surroundings. I don’t think the staff would appreciate it if I were to start rearranging their carefully laid out chairs–even if one is slightly further forward than the rest.
I don’t know what’s got me so on edge, there’s no doubt in my mind that Jules is going to turn up; he always has. This is the moment we’ve slowly been gravitating towards for so long; nothing could alter our course, nothing could stop either of us from being here and making this final commitment to one another. But, as always, my body reacts like there’s danger imminent and it wants me to take action– by tidying… go figure.
We decided we would do it low-key, ‘inexpensive and effective’ was the oh-so romantic way Jules described it. Two witnesses, two suits, and two rings. We’ve never needed much, just each other, so it makes perfect sense, really.
“Alexander? If you will follow me, please…” A lady with a short, rounded bob and trouser suit calls from the open door. My shoulders release the tension, and my fists uncoil, making me feel immediately lighter as I start moving towards her. The worries lessened with the distance I closed, my mind catching on to the fact I’ll be with him soon. We haven’t seen each other since last night; Jules was adamant that we uphold the tradition– even though I’m sure it doesn’t really apply to us. But, if one night apart out of five-thousand-one-hundred and ten together kept him happy, I would entertain his notions, no matter how ridiculous I thought they may be.
My fingers squeeze between my tie and collar, wiggling to allow more space for the thickness growing in my throat.Is it hot in here?
We picked our own suits– separately, obviously. God forbid I see Jules’ before the big day. I went with an all-black set: trousers, shirt, blazer, and tie…
“Shit!” I spin to face the registrar, her face a picture of horror at my language. “Where’s Jules?”
“I’m sorry… Who?”
I shake my head when I remember–It’s Julian, dipshit.
“Julian… Julian James, where is he?”
“He should be just through that door, second on the left…”
I hastily jog towards the door, waving my hand over my shoulder in thanks and wrapping my hand around the doorknob.
“Jules?” I knock, muttering under my breath when he doesn’t answer.
“Jules, are you in there? It’s me, Zander.” Nothing but silence greets me as my hand tightens around the handle. I know I won’t be able to settle unless I follow through with the obsessive compulsion flooding my mind. I’ll be in and out in two minutes. Hell, I’ll even close my eyes if I have to; I’m pretty confident my hands know exactly what to do at this point. “Okay, I’m coming in…” I twist the handle and push the door inward, keeping my eyes cast down so as not to ruin the one request Jules had. I don’t see any shiny shoes in my field of vision, but there’s a distant shuffling noise coming from the open doorway to my right. I press my thumb to each finger in turn as I make my way over, the noise increasing.
“Zander? What are you doing here?!” I can’t control my body’s response to him; we’re like pole ends of two magnets drawn to each other, strong and inseparable. Our eyes meet first, before I let them wander to explore him entirely. He’s wearing a light beige suit, white undershirt and brown dress shoes; a glaring contrast to my all black fit. A familiar thought spreads warmth from my chest outwards–he’s the light to my darkness.
The baby-blue tie draping over each side of his chest catches my attention– the whole reason I’ve broken his tradition.
“I–uhh… I came to do your tie.” Heat floods my cheeks at how menial it sounds, but the way he looks at me with gratitude and recognition, tells me he understands completely.
