Ritual
September 11, 2002
When Kelly died, Courtney, Nicole, and I made a pact that we wouldn’t cry in her presence, which meant at her funeral and at her grave, which is where I’m headed right now. It was really hard to honor the pact at the funeral. I remember almost losing it during the eulogy when I started thinking about not having her to share all of the useless bits of information and gossip that fill my head every day. Then, like an idiot, I turned to look at her casket. I still thank God, and Kelly, for littering the funeral home with faces from my past to take my mind off what was really happening. I’m not sure I would’ve made it through the eulogy if I didn’t have all of those people as a distraction. Kelly absolutely hated tears, and since her death, I’ve done a remarkable job of hiding them from her. Every month when I visit her grave, I keep them in my back pocket, only releasing them when I get in my car and drive away.
Like always, I arrive earlier than Courtney and Nicole. The actual monthly anniversary of Kelly’s death was two days ago, but Nicole got stuck in the ER trying to save a freak, who in some sick sort of bondage maneuver, spread peanut butter all over his genitals for his black lab to lick off while his wife watched. Their good/masochistic time came to a screeching halt when the lab confused the dude’s dick with his Kong toy (that the idiots typically filled with peanut butter for long lasting play time) and bit half of his f*cking schlong off. So we had to postpone until today, which now I’m kind of glad about. I can talk to Kelly about the dream I woke up to this morning.
I lay a blanket on top of her, open up the picnic basket, dish out our spicy chicken wings and nachos, and crack open a couple of beers. I place her beer on her tombstone, and so as to not make anyone feel left out, I place the other beer on top of the tombstone next to Kelly’s. (We always did like a good party.) Normally, I’d open a third beer, which would get quickly deposited down my throat, but there hasn’t been any drinking for me for some time now…Well, except for my recent God awful slip up, which caused my whole world to turn upside down and which I’ll do anything to forget about.
Shaking off thoughts of the night I fell off the wagon, I crack open a bottle of water for myself and then lay in on my old friend.
“So Kel, are you ever gonna reveal the meaning behind these dreams?”
Silence.
“That’s what I thought.”
Sometimes she answers me though. No, I’m not delusional. I’m fully aware she’s not actually talking to me, but I know her so well that it’s not hard to speak for her. I always know what Kelly’s thinking…Except when it comes to how she would interpret these damn dreams.
“Works going good. We have three studios now. That one in Alamo finally opened last month.”
“Took long enough don’t you think?”
Ahhhh, there you are.
“Yep, way longer than I wanted, but things kind of came to a screeching halt after 9/11. I don’t have to explain that to you though…you’re up there…you saw the commotion.”
“Speaking of screeching halt…seriously, Chrissy? Again?”
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“Dude! I’m up here! You don’t think I know what happened to him?”
Shit, that’s right. Lying to Kelly, (even if it’s only in my mind) has to be one of the more pointless things I’ve tried to do.
I can hear her giggle as she says, “Nahhh, there’ve been way more pointless things.”
After a long pause, I look up at the sky, exhale and say, “Oh, Kel, what have I done?”
“Looks like you lost him for good is what you did.”
“Do you know that for sure?”
“You’ve asked some pretty dumb questions, but that one’s definitely up there, girl.” Kelly’s quiet for a minute before she starts back at me. “Hmmm. How do I put this? Getting him back might be just as difficult as getting me back.”
With that declaration, I close my eyes and hang my shaking head low.
“Sorry, Chrissy. It’s probably about time to start looking for the silver lining of his departure.”
“We’re calling it a departure now? Wow, you make everything sound so formal up there, Kel.”
“I’m serious Chrissy. What happened to your silver linings? You found plenty after I died.”
“Ran out I guess.”
“Bull! What about what happened nine months ago? You’ve been silver lining the crap out of that, so don’t give me the ‘I ran out’ line.”
That’s the closest she’s ever come to acknowledging the unexpected gift bestowed upon me nine months ago and for a minute I consider talking openly about it, but then I glance at the beer bottles sitting atop the tombstones and resist the temptation. I’ll cry and I made a promise that I would never cry here.
“C’mon, Kel! Tell me, do you honestly think any good can come out of what happened to Leo?”
“I’ll answer your question with a question. Do you think any good came out of what happened to me?”
“That’s not fair and you know it.”
“Sure it is. Answer it.”
“I won’t.”
“Okay then, I will. In the process of trying to take your mind off of my illness, you fell in love with yoga, and that led to the three yoga studios you have now!”
“C’mon, Kel, I--”
“Not done! You wouldn’t have had the money to open the first studio if you didn’t finally get off your butt, file for divorce, and sell your house. Another thing you probably wouldn’t have done if I hadn’t gotten sick. And by the way, I’m still waiting for my thanks for getting sick when the real estate market was on steroids!”
“Stop!”
“Nope, I got more! The only reason you went to New York to find Leo and tell him you still loved him was because I was near death and told you to. And, yes, that little trip didn’t end up like we wanted it to, but lucky for you, I died and that stubborn man opened his heart and mind to second chances and forgave you. See all of the lovely silver linings I’m talking about here?”
“Whoa! Did you just say I was lucky you died?”
“Yep. I have a much better sense of humor up here than I did down there, one of the perks of a stress-free existence.” Along with the giggle I miss so much she says, “C’mon though, Chrissy, you get my point, right? You dug deep and created some good stuff out of what happened to me. You can do the same with Leo…If you just try.”
“Can we change the subject?”
“Hey, it’s your imagination. Do what you want.”
I want to continue the conversation, but I hear Courtney and Nicole approaching. Actually, I hear Courtney chastising Nicole for spilling her mocha in the car. I swear, I still don’t get how that klutz is a doctor.
“Hey mama’s! Over here! I got started without you again.”
I hug Courtney first, mostly because she’s clean. Then I lay in on her as she’s tackling the picnic basket.
“Are you ever gonna wear make-up again?”
Opening a beer as if relief is washing over her like a waterfall, she drinks and answers at the same time, “Are you ever gonna stop asking me that?”
Courtney looks as stressed as usual. She left her position as Assistant Professor of saving the world (or whatever it was called), at University of California San Francisco School of Medicine and took on the gigantic job of Chief of Medicine at the local community hospital. She’s the youngest person to EVER fill the job. Nobody ever sees her anymore, not even her family. If, for whatever reason, I can’t make it to these gravesite visits, I can forget about seeing her for a month. If you want into Court’s life, you have to be penciled in waaaaay in advance. I’d worry about her if she wasn’t so damn happy.
“I’d hug you too, Nicole, but I don’t feel like getting chocolate all over me.”
Nicole, on the other hand isn’t so damn happy. Like me, she went through a little bit of a metamorphosis when Kelly got sick. She realized that being a doctor isn’t something she completely loves being every day. She felt like she had a different calling, and after much soul searching, revealed it was to be a junior high science teacher. While she’d be an amazing role model to a bunch of seventh grade freaks, she’s completely saddled with student loans and stuck in the ER until she wins the lottery. Looking at her chocolate-stained shirt, I don’t know who I feel sorrier for--her, or her patients.
I reach over and pluck what looks like a muffin crumb out of her hair.
“Jesus, girl, are you ever gonna pick that fro out?”
“I don’t have a fro, you dumbass. And you better watch it…you’re not looking so hot yourself these days.”
She’s right. To say I’ve let myself go is an understatement. After plopping down on the picnic blanket and sharing a moment of silence, mostly because we’re all exhausted, we begin our usual chit-chat.
“We saw you when we walked up. Talking to her again?”
“Of course, Court. I don’t know why you two think it’s so weird. She can hear us, you know.”
Drinking the rest of her beer in one gulp, burping and then reaching for another one, Courtney says, “What’s she sayin’ today?”
“Buncha crap about Leo, silver linings…same ol’, same ol’.”
Rolling her eyes, Nicole chimes in with, “Tell me this, John Edwards, does she ever ask about you-know-who?”
“Nope, and I’ll never bring her up, doesn’t seem fair.”
Looking up at the beer bottles perched atop the tombstones next to us, Courtney whispers, “Nothing about what happened is fair.”
With her admission, we silently toast our surroundings by clinking our own bottles together. And then it gets quiet again. For the ten months after Kelly died, we laughed a lot at her gravesite. We knew that’s what she wanted us to do and because of the memories we shared, it wasn’t that hard, really. But then, for the second time in our short lives, death reared its ugly head and the laughter came to a screeching halt. Now, no matter what Chrissygan or flashback to our carefree days we chat about at her grave, the laughter is missing. Outside of the giggles that take place in my cottage, I’m beginning to wonder if the laughter will ever return.
Must stay focused right now though. Lots more to do today. Lots more.