Brendan Dude

A few weeks later, David’s viewing was downtown at the cemetery’s church. The next day would be the funeral.

At school, people treated me a lot differently than they used to. Everyone on the sidewalks would glance for a minute, then their faces would fall. For a couple days, they’d walk up to me, slap my back, and say, “Good luck.” I knew David was in touch with a lot of them since he was kind of a party guy despite being so quiet, so I wasn’t exactly surprised.

But I didn’t like that “special treatment.” It made me feel like…I don’t know, a baby. A special-ed kid. Unlike before, fewer people picked fights with me. Teachers let me off the hook way more than they used to, even though I hadn’t changed a bit.

I hated all of it. I hated pity.

I didn’t want to be felt sorry for. I just wanted to be treated normally. I mean, it wasn’t like I enjoyed getting referrals and D minuses - just, I felt like they really weren’t sorry. They were only afraid of striking a nerve.

I wondered if Joey was in the same boat.

Well, for one thing, it’s not like he actually strived to go to school. He probably ditched for half the days I went. He laid off a lot with the bullying, and he was getting quieter. I actually saw him less since he just stayed in bed all day, but in a way it was better than him pushing me around. I just really hoped he was alright ‘cause it was weird without him annoying the shit out of me on a daily basis.

Mom and Dad were flat-out stressed. They had to handle all the funeral and police crap, so they were under a ton of pressure. Man, that sucked for them. I couldn’t imagine having to put up with that.

The night of the viewing came, and we had to get there early. Friends and family poured through the doors of the building, mostly David’s stoner friends (he didn’t have many), this one chubby girl who looked to be about David’s age (she didn’t say a word, for some reason), and our aunts, uncles, and grandparents.

I wasn’t surprised when Luke was one of the first to set foot in the door. Immediately he went over to me and actually hugged me out of comfort. I almost hugged back, but I wasn’t used to hugging a dude that wasn’t blood family.

“Sorry man,” he whispered.

I squeezed out a smile, no desire to cry. “Thanks for coming.”

Joey paced along the wall, holding his head and refusing to speak. He kept pulling at his collar like he was super nervous. Occasionally, he’d look up at the Jesus painting on the wall and mouth out a few words, but he didn’t seem angry. Just…calm.

There was a big poster of photos of David that came from my grandma and grandpa. It was framed in pristine quality, unleashed just before we were called in to the pews. Dad held Mom while she cried softly, and I simply beamed at what used to be.

Joey stayed back, avoiding the crowd. Luke wandered over to him later on, a few minutes later, and spoke to him. I don’t know what they said, but I don’t really want to know, either. It was just between them.

Then it was time to see David’s corpse. An open-casket viewing really wasn’t the best thing for a kid who was killed in a car accident.

They only tried to hide who he was, it seemed. Cuts and scratches covered his cheeks, smeared with makeup that made him look sick. He didn’t look like himself in a freakin’ perfect suit, all dolled up with a tie and dress shoes. They even tried to comb down his curly hair that stuck out in every which way - it even kind of looked like they gave up and let it be after trying to tame it.

Despite it all, David’s body looked…peaceful.

Unlike what I expected from someone who died under the influence, his eyes were eased shut. His mouth curved upward a little, not quite a smile but nowhere near a frown. Like he was okay with dying.

Ever since Joey was knocked into that damn concussion, I presumed David never tried to fight for acceptance or better himself because the way he saw it, he’d only screw it up. I guess somehow, that led him into drugs. I can’t say I’m sure how that all works out and ties together, but it’s gotta make sense to somebody.

It’s not like he didn’t have amazing potential, since he did. The only time he really got pissed off was when a friend was insulted. And when he tried to prove them wrong, he’d only end up in more trouble.

And David was a smart guy. Up until eighth grade, he was on the honor roll and was almost accepted into the honors program at Claymore High. But since the Joey incident, he stopped trying - like I said before. It was probably the biggest upset in the history of this whole neighborhood and it was just one of those things you have to let be even if you hate it.

Mom and Dad tried their best, but he refused help. He rebelled, no matter what kind of guidance they’d offer. All he really needed was just some help and reassurance, but he found them in all the wrong places.

That’s why he died.

Well…one reason.

I couldn’t help but think how things might be different if I just stayed with him instead of slamming the door in his face. Well…duh, we’d probably both be lined up in caskets in front of the pews. Or maybe he’d see that he was endangering his little brother and pull over.

Or maybe it was my fault after all, and I was the sole reason why he was laying there in that casket, me being the final straw before he had enough tidbits of self-destruction and finally decided to end it all with my encouragement.

I didn’t like that thought, and so I forced it outta my brain and tried to never think of it again, even if it had flickered through my thoughts a few times already.

Our neighbor, who was a pastor and never seemed to frown, said a few calming words for the night. He talked about how chill he was (who wouldn’t take note of that?), and how smart he could have been. Then he mentioned all the sorrow that tied in with it, the bitter truths that no one wanted to hear, but everybody knew in their hearts.

All of a sudden, Joey, beside me, leaped out of his seat and darted out of the room and building, the double doors slamming louder than any gun.

I muttered a choice word under my breath and dashed across my uncle’s lap, jumping out and taking great strides to catch up with the middle Veins brother.

I couldn’t push aside the unnerving thought that he might have been trying to pull the same shit as the day after David died. I gulped and shot out of the church, the freezing air numbing my lungs instantly. I shouted Joey’s name twice before deciding to run around and search the outside of the building. I think I got whiplash from moving so fast.

“Joey!”

He was around back by the dumpster, puking his guts out. Literally - all he did was vomit blood. I backed away, my stomach turning. He groaned a colorful line of bad words, spitting one last time and looking up at me. He wiped his mouth and said, “I don’t believe it.”

“David’s dead, man. You gotta realize that.”

“No, man. They just gotta let ‘im be. Stick him in the ground and be done with it. I don’t wanna see him ‘cause it makes me sick inside, I mean, they got ‘im in a friggin’ suit. Jesus…”

He walked in a circle, kicking rocks and dirt aside. “Just makes me feel like it was all my fault, ya know? I was fuckin’ stupid, jumpin’ in the way…” he spat, ripping off his tie. “I mean, why do they even have these things? Yeah, he’s dead. Whatever. Bury him and let it go.”

“You don’t have to look, dude. I bet by now they closed it shut and you won’t have to see him,” I said.

“You think that makes it all better? You think that just ‘cause you don’t see ‘im, he’s not there? You’re an idiot.”

My natural reflexes sprang up.

“Shut up! You’re only mad ‘cause you made him snap!”

Joey was silenced. His mouth dropped an even two feet, his breathing growing unsteady.

“You’re right, man…you’re right…shit…this is my fault…”

I wished I could take back my words, but it was too late. They were in the open for all to hear.

“No. It’s not. I killed him too,” I muttered, avoiding his eyes.

“What?”

“He probably crashed ‘cause I told him to die. I bet you twenty bucks I jinxed him.”

Joey started pacing in circles. “So I guess we’re both to blame.”

“That’s right. You can’t keep kickin’ yourself for this. If David was pissed off, he would’ve showed it by now and sent a bear after you.”

He let out an airy chuckle. “Yeah.” He stared at the floor, gulping once before looking back up at me. “You just got it made, man. You don’t got freaky brain shit that makes you say random crap and do shit that you’ll regret.”

He was smirking crookedly like he was envious of me. The skin on my neck that had almost faced the blade days ago began to sting…

“No, I don’t,” I choked out.

Joey cocked his brow. “And what does that mean?”

I sighed, looking at the stars that popped against the black sky. “It means I kind of did what you did a month ago.”

“You got a haircut?”

“What? No. I just…I almost…I…almost killed myself.” Each word brought panic to my soul, only a reminder of the almost-tragedy that could have caused the Veins family more pain.

Joey’s mouth fell open. “Brendan…” He stared at me for a second, and then simply put a hand on my shoulder. I almost slapped it away out of instinct, but after a minute, we just stood there awkwardly, an attempted heart-to-heart that really kind of failed because I barely knew who he was.

“You don’t wanna do that. Trust me, it sucks,” he added, smiling a little. I couldn’t help but smile back.

I turned around and started walking back to the front of the building. “We should probably go back in before they wonder what we’re doing.”

“Yeah.”

- - -

I’d never seen downtown like I did before that night.

The buildings seemed to explode with lights - yellow and red and blue. It was awesomely bright, so neon I had to shield my eyes. We were driving home from the viewing at about ten PM, and the stars couldn’t hold a candle to the city.

When we zoomed by, they smeared across my eyesight in great big blobs of color. I don’t know why, but I was enchanted. I was stuck in a daze that was only broken when Joey smacked my cheek.

“What do you want from Burger Shack, moron?!” he grunted.

“Triple cheeseburger! God, you’re stupid!”