Andy

"Ash, is that you?!"

I looked up from kicking off my boots at the door as my mom stepped into the foyer, her hands covered in flour from whatever concoction she was making in the kitchen.

"Yeah, I'm home," I replied, and finished the process of taking off my shoes before I followed her to where she'd retreated back into the kitchen. "What are you up to?"

I looked over the mess she'd made on the kitchen island. Most of it was covered in flour, or dense bits of what looked like bread dough.

"Trying a new bread recipe... I'm not sure what it was, but something has gone horribly wrong here." She demonstrated by clasping her hands together, and attempting to pull them apart, where the strands of dough stuck to her palms, and dangled between her hands.

"Clearly." I laughed with her, going to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water.

"Oh, the funeral for that boy is this Saturday. Turned out the Alice and Frank Turner up the street were related to him. Aunt and Uncle, I think. It's really a shame..."

I listened to her, and wondered if that was the 'dead guy business' Andy had to take care of? Checking in on his Aunt and Uncle.

"They invited us to go. You don't have to, if you don't want to. Since you didn't know him or the family well. But I do think they'd appreciate it if you went," my mom hinted, looking up at me as I looked out the front windows absently. I was just wondering if Andy actually wanted me there, and if he would ask me myself to go.

Of course, I probably would. I'd pay respect, because whether or not I was having a strange relationship with him, his death still bothered me greatly, and I sought closure from the situation.

Though, a counter thought, how do you get closure when you're literally still talking to the deceased?

"And apparently, his obituary was released. It's in this morning's paper, if you want to read it."

I nodded nonchalantly, but the second she turned her back, I sprinted from the kitchen to the family room, where I'd find the most recent paper beside my father's rocking chair.

I scooped up the damp roll of paper and took it to my room, and laid out flat on my bed and began to search the pages for the story. I read ads for free couches and house siding, and then one on an apartment that was for rent just outside of town. At the very back of the newspaper, I found the obituaries. Andy's was beside one for an elderly man who used to run the bookstore in town.

The article was accompanied by a nice photo of Andy. No dark, emo makeup; no messy black hair; and no piercings in his face. He also looked a lot different age wise. It must've been one of his more desirable photos from high school.'

Andrew "Andy" Dennis Biersack
Andy Biersack was born on December 26th, 1990, and passed away on April 11th, 2015, at 3:50 PM.
His life was taken at the hands of a motorist accident.
Andy is a longtime citizen of Pendant County, and had recently made a move to Oakland, California to begin taking classes at East Bay Community College for various topics he had an interest in majoring in.
Andy has always been a very family based man, always making time for friends and family during his school years. Friends shared stories on Andy's behalf, everything from stories about him getting stuck in a tree at a young age, to tales of family camping trips.

I read through it, enjoying the little tales dotted throughout the piece, but I did take note that whoever wrote it obviously hadn't been close to Andy, and had stuck to just interviewing his friends and family for ideas on what to write.

His obituary was actually pretty short. I noticed that it left out all the less than desirable things about his life, as well. Like Andy got his first tattoo at age*.

Clearly no one appreciated those things about him, or even the little things, like his habits or hobbies. The whole thing was based around his family, friends, and life here in Pendant, and little to nothing about his experiences in California.

I put away the newspaper after I was done reading it, and decided to get a jump on my homework. I got in about an hours' worth before my papers fluttered, the tell-tale sign of Andy's presence, and then he was there, sitting on the end of my bed wearing his studded jacket, baggy tank top, and ripped black jeans. He looked like a Hot Topic love child.

"Hey," he greeted, not happily nor sad. He was just calm, watching me write. I was still trying to grasp his very presence right then.

"Hey," I replied. "Where have you been?"

"Doing ghostly deeds," he replied with a grin, wiggling his fingers in the air for effect. Then he sighed and looked out the window with a distant expression. "Actually, I was handling some 'human' deeds. Last goodbyes. With my..." He stopped to catch himself before continuing. "With my funeral coming up this weekend, I don't know how different things will be... Like if I'll have a chance afterwards to do this stuff or not. I just wanted to make sure."

"I thought you couldn't?" I wondered in confusion.

"I can't, that's the thing... But I worked in the loops of death. Sent an anoymous bouquet of flowers to my mother, with a letter. An apology, actually."

"Apology?"

He half smiled sadly. "I was never a good kid growing up, Ash. I did a lot of bad stuff and it broke my mom's heart. I've never really thought about it until now, and it's too late to change it."

I frowned, wary of where the conversation was headed, I was never good at comforting people. So instead I remained awkwardly silent, watching Andy hide his hurt by turning his face away. I looked at the tattoos on his hands, and the long, layered black hair that ran to his shoulders. He took slow breaths, and I wondered secretly if he even needed them anymore. It was a curiosity, but I was not in the position to be asking the fascinating details of his death.

"I wish I wasn't such a brat." He laughed, and it was genuine. When he looked forward again, he wore a bright, white grin. "I mean, seriously, I was the shits. No, I didn't deserve the shit I had to put up with in school, but some of the crap I did at home..." He trailed off, shaking his head and chuckling. "I'm surprised my parents never put me up for adoption."

I couldn't help the laugh that broke through my lips. He turned and grinned at me. "You know it because you're like that, too!" He snorted, and my cheeks flushed. "So neeeeeedddddyyyy," he wailed, and I was grateful that no one could hear him but me. "Like every other whiney, emo bitch on the planet."

Instead of getting offended by his comments I embraced them, because I knew I was the complete opposite of emo in every way except for my music tastes. I settled for shoving his shoulder. "Have you seen my closet? It's mostly rainbow colored crap."

"Oh, don't worry. I've seen that hippy crap you wear to school," Andy replied with a semi-serious expression, before it exploded into a fit of laughter.

I caught myself enjoying his company rather than quaking in fear knowing it wasn't real. In a way, it was almost like he was. And it was enough for now.