Star Fire

I was frozen to the bone as I calmly stood outside the church gates. The cold autumn rain was coming down in a fine but constant drizzle. My drenched long brown hair was flattened to head and my skin was clammy and icy cold. The world around me seemed a harsh black and white. The only colours in the picture were the fiery colours of the autumn leaves that littered the ground, but some how my soul was oblivious to their presence. All of the mourners (and there were many) stood in a group outside the ornate churchyard gates, waiting for the hurst. There were very few people that I actually recognised and even less that I had seen in the last six years. There were a few people from college and a few more of Gab’s friends that I had met on occasions but most of the people seemed to be family friends. It seemed stupid to me that such a unique guy should have such a normal funeral. Somehow it was wrong. However, it did show how little Gab’s parents actually knew about their son.

The hurst arrived carrying a coffin adorned with flowers. There was one wreath that had clearly been chosen to be noticed; the golden summery flowers spelt out the word ‘son’.

We entered the huge elaborate church slowly and formally. I had never been to a funeral before and I did not know what to expect. But, in my opinion the entire service was a farce. There were speeches and biblical readings from ‘close’ family and friends, who I knew with absolute clarity, were not close to Gab. They were simply respectable in the eyes of his affluent, high and mighty, upper class parents. The minister then requested that the congregation ‘celebrate Alexander Gable Campbell-Bannerman’s life rather than morn his death’. That statement made me sick. I resented some elderly man who probably never knew the real Gab, telling me what to do. Of course I would morn his death. He meant more to me than anything else in this world. I silently cursed this withered little man for his thoughtless remark. I couldn’t celebrate Gab’s life when I missed him so damn much.

Of course his mother was completely distraught. He youngest son had died and she was fittingly inconsolable. Her husband was also perfect in his duty as a shoulder to cry on. Gable’s siblings were also wonderful in their respective roles. I might be cynical but in my opinion when you truly are grieving you are not as finely dressed as they were.

It made me want to puke. The whole scene was a mockery. None of these crying, heartbroken people even cared about Gable. The only people in the entire building, which gave a damn about him, were sat in the very back row, next to me. I was angry with his family and his so-called friends. But mostly, I was angry with myself. If I hadn’t been doing that stupid, pointless interview I might have been able to stop him. I might have been able to prevent his death. Even as I chastised myself, I knew I was wrong. Gab had died how he lived - on the edge.

I wish I could have stopped it. I wish with all my heart that I could have brought him back. I was overwhelmed with a never-ending grief. Everything in the world was wrong. In the days since his death I had constantly issued silent prayers that he would be okay and that I would wake from this dreadful nightmare any second. But I did not wake up. Each day I woke to face the day without the only person who I had ever cared about. The world seemed empty and without hope. I wanted to get away from this travesty of a funeral. Gab didn’t even believe in God!

The service finally ended and I could leave at last. I had planned to leave quietly and without any fuss. But Gab’s older brother made this impossible. He is tall, maybe 6ft 5 inches and arrogant. His dark looks were the spitting image of his younger brother. However his cruel sneer made it heartbreaking to look at his face. I do not remember his name. The name Michael rings some sort of bell, but it could just as easily be some other relatives name. Gab never had much to do with his parents since he was seven or eight and so neither had I.

Anyway, Gab’s older brother grabbed me by the arm as everyone left the church and were heading towards to grave. His bony hands dug into my delicate flesh. I could feel the bruises they would leave. I squealed out in pain, but my protests were drowned by the congregation.

“Silence.” He muttered scathingly. “I thought I made is crystal clear that you and your circus freak friends were not welcome today.” I bit my lip, desperately trying to hold back a retort. I remembered his lovely visit. “Alexander belongs with his family. This was a private service and your presence was not permitted. You and your friends will leave immediately.”

“Gab belongs with his friends.” I muttered defiantly. I do not know whether he heard my comment. But if he did he chose to ignore it. My arm was released as suddenly as it had been seized. The throbbing in my arm left a clear message that I had better be gone before the burial. Even though I had planned to leave anyway I know resented having to make a swift departure. I did not know how I was going to signal to all of the other ‘circus freaks’ that we must all leave.

Luckily, as I glanced around I noticed that almost all of them were already heading towards the exit gates. All except Luca, that was. He stood defiantly next to Mrs Campbell-Bannerman. But, unlike her he was not crying. My heart went out for him. They wouldn’t even recognise him as the love of their son’s life. I might of lost my best friend, but Luca had lost his soul mate. Even if the Campbell-Bannerman’s hadn’t been homophobic, they never would have accepted a lowly launderette worker as their son’s boyfriend. I glanced away. It hurt too much to watch.

I walked away from the church, down the rocky path and out of the ornate iron gates.

I just wanted to escape, to forget everything that had happened, even if it was just for an hour or so. That’s how I came to accept the invitation to the Jamie’s party and that is how it all started. I just wanted to escape all this grief that was built up inside me, so I decided that a party was just what I needed.