But, wait... wouldn't that be a good thing? If Justin forgot, then he could be happy and JC would be able to come back.
The mysteries of the world were all falling into his perspective now that he wasn't of this world anymore. He wasn't sure that life was all it was cracked up to be, but he knew that death was worse. Especially death on Earth. Being in the world, but not being part of it, was the most difficult thing he'd ever done.
He walked through the door and saw Becca on the couch, staring at the television. Where was Justin? He went past Becca and into the dining room. Opposite from the dining room was an open door, and Justin stood there, dousing his face with water over the sink.
"Justin."
He jumped and watcher splashed everywhere. "Don't DO that!" he hissed.
"Sorry!" JC moved past Justin and sat down on the edge of the bath tub. "What are you doing?" He looked down at Justin's cola-covered khaki's and smiled. "Did you have an accident?" he teased.
Justin didn't look at him as he reached for the hand towel. "Shut up," he mumbled. "I spilled my Coke."
"All over yourself?"
"What of it?" He wiped his face and arms dry and then put the towel back.
"How'd you do THAT?"
Justin made a move for the door. "Come upstairs with me. I need another pair of pants."
"You've got your clothes here now?" JC asked as he followed Justin up the stairs.
"Only out of a suitcase. No big deal." He chuckled. "I'm not moving in yet."
JC laughed. "Very funny."
Becca had her back pressed against the wall just outside the door to the dining room. She was breathing deeply and tears stung at the corners of her eyes.
What she had just heard, terrified her. Sure, people were allowed to talk to themselves occasionally, but when the other half of the conversation was missing, it just seemed creepy. Her grandfather used to talk to himself, but it wasn't anything like that. Who did Justin think he was talking to?
Taking a deep breath, she calmly walked around to the doorway and went through, going slowly up the stairs after him. When she reached the top step, she heard mumbling near the end of the hall and made her way towards his voice. As she drew nearer, she began to hear him more clearly.
"Do NOT worry... I'll be careful. I'm not an idiot."
Who in the hell was he talking to!?
"I know. Just one second and I'll go."
Quickly, she turned around and made fast steps back toward the stairs. She didn't know what was wrong with Justin, but she still didn't want to get caught listening to his, um... well, conversation... with himself...
Justin put his pants over his suitcase so they'd dry and then turned to JC. "Are you going to go anywhere tonight?"
JC shrugged. "Where would I go? Who would I talk to?" He sighed. "The nights are ten times worse than the days. It's dark, everyone's sleeping except for us... Not us as in you and me. I mean, us as in the dead. Justin, I never get tired, hungry... nothing like that. There's not much for me to do besides think... and it's hard when things that you've never even thought about before run through your mind and you find yourself analyzing everything to pieces. Then you come to conclusions about life... about death, and it's amazingly frightening."
Justin gulped. "Amazingly?"
He shook his head. "Not really, well, I guess. It's hard to explain with words. You see, when you die, you lose a hell of a lot of senses, but you also gain a few. If you thought life is strange, wait until you die. It gets stranger."
Justin stared at him for a second. "Let's not talk about this anymore... Becca's probably wondering why it's taking me so long to wash my face and all." He paused. "Are you coming?"
"Only if you promise not to say a word to me. We can't take any more chances."
Becca sat on the couch for ten minutes, twirling her dark curls around her finger and staring mindlessly at the television. Justin's words were ringing through her mind and she contemplated on whether or not to ask him about his strange ramblings.
Finally, he stepped back into the living room, his hands shoved into the pockets of his fresh pair of dark, blue jeans. "Sorry about that," he said to her... or so she thought. Maybe he was talking to his imaginary friend again...
"It's all right. No damage done," she answered, referring to the couch cushions. They were light in color and she would have had a hell of a time getting out the stains. "Fortunately, for us, the cola went all over YOU instead of the sofa. While your pants can be put in the wash, the couch is far too large."
He sat down next to her and reached for the remote. "Is there anything on tonight? I have a feeling that neither of us will be sleeping."
The TV was buzzing with a late night infomercial. It was almost four AM and Justin was still sitting there watching. He had seen infomercials about quick ways to cook things, cut things, dry them, store them. He saw ones about hair removal, quick painting gear and miracle make-up systems. He felt like no one else knew as much as he did about those stupid infomercials.
With her head on his chest, Becca had finally drifted off into a restless sleep. The couch was incredibly uncomfortable, but that seemed like the case no matter where he was.
"So pick up your phone and dial 1-800-PAINT-IT and our operators will give you not one, but two free canisters of our incredible paint to get started with! Not only that, but YOU, yes YOU get to pick from our ten, fabulous colors! Call now, and don't forget the number... 1-800-PAINT-IT!"
Justin frowned at the man on the television screen. He had on an awful toupee that looked like it had been freshly ran over by a motorist right outside the studio, and his teeth were so white, that Justin thought he'd pass out from the brightness. He tried to squint his eyes, but his eyelids wouldn't cooperate, so he looked away from the screen. His eyes were so heavy, that he couldn't imagine how he had stayed up for so long in the first place. His muscles ached and his head hurt, and he just wished he could sleep a few hours before he had to get up and get ready for the funeral.
Suddenly, a blurry image of JC appeared before his eyes. "What are you doing? Shouldn't you be sleeping?" he asked.
Justin forced his eyes open a little more. "Yeah... where'd you come from?"
JC waved his arms in a slow pattern in front of his face. "You're dreaming..." he said in a creepy voice, "I'm a ghost!" but then burst out laughing and fell next to them on the couch. "Oh, God..."
"That was NOT funny," Justin grumbled. "I'm very exhausted and you could have scared me."
"Sorry! I just couldn't resist! What's the use of being a ghost if you can't have a little fun? You don't know all the stuff that I can't do anymore!"
"Well, do us all a favor and quit being a ghost while I'm trying to catch a few hours of sleep before another awful day."
"I WISH I could quit being a ghost, but unfortunately, it doesn't work that way." He looked more closely at them. They looked awful and he felt like it was all his fault... and he wasn't sure if he liked the way Justin had his arms around Becca. Sure, Justin was comforting her, but Justin wasn't her husband. He wasn't the one holding her and that's what hurt.
Justin had turned silent, and when JC looked up at his face, he realized that his friend was now fast asleep. He reached out and tried to touch Becca's arm, his fingers running down to hers... but yet again, he felt nothing. He wanted to pick up her hand, hold it in his own until she woke up and realized that it was all a dream... but he couldn't.
JC stood on the light green grass. He could see the dew sparkling in the early morning sunlight, but couldn't feel any sign of it beneath his feet. Out in the distance he watched three men with shovels, digging out the last bit of dirt from his grave site. They were talking to each other, but JC didn't want to hear what they had to say, so he kept his distance.
Nine o'clock drifted by and it was almost nine thirty when Justin awoke with a start. For a second, he forgot where he was and what was going on until Becca moved in his arms and he remembered.
On the television was an early morning talk show and at the corner of the screen, it said, 'You're my daddy and I can prove it!' Justin groped the cushion next to himself for the remote. When he found it, he pressed at it until the TV turned black and he sighed. "I don't have time to put up with this shit," he mumbled.
His eyes widened as they connected with the three, red letters on the cable box. Nine twenty-nine. "My God..." He had no idea that they would actually SLEEP last night! "Becca, Becca," he said, nudging her. "Wake up, Becca. We've gotta get ready."
Her eyes opened slowly, but she didn't move. She only tightened her arms around him and held on. "I wish today were over with."
He didn't respond.
"Actually, I wish I could go back in time. I wish it were Saturday morning and then I could look into his eyes and say, 'You know what, JC? I just want us to stay home.'"
Tears came to his eyes and he buried his face in her curls. "C'mon," he mumbled. "We've gotta get ready. We have to be at the funeral home by ten. The service starts at ten thirty."
"Don't remind me." She wiggled out of his arms and stood up. "Fifteen minutes to get ready for one of the worst days of my life?" ...the worst being last Saturday... and she walked away from him.
"JC?" he whispered once he heard the sound of her feet on the upstairs hallway. "Are you here?"
Once again, JC appeared out of nowhere. He stood there on the carpet with his hands in his pockets, staring down at his friend. "What's wrong?"
Justin sighed, an exhausted look spreading over his face. "How can you ask that? You know what's wrong."
"I'm sorry." He paused and looked around the room. "You know, sometimes you just ask questions for the sake of asking. Sometimes you ask questions when you already know the answers. I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Justin said softly as he fell sideways on the couch.
"You better get going," JC warned. "You have to be there soon."
"And what if I don't want to go? Besides... I can't get up."
"Yes, you can. Come on, Justin... after the funeral you can lie there for as long as you like. Just get up, get dressed and get this over with."
Justin let out a big sigh. "All right. Fine." He clawed at the edge of the couch and strained to right himself.
His stomach was empty, and his mind had never felt fuzzier, but when JC's brother called his name and he looked over in that direction, his heart sank lower than it ever had before. It was time to go to JC's funeral. There, outside the funeral home on that sunny, spring morning, stood three other men. With JC beside him, he slowly walked to where Tyler stood with Becca's two brothers. "
You can do this," JC encouraged as Justin took a deep breath and followed them inside. When they entered the viewing room, two of the funeral home workers were closing the casket. "
Wait," Justin spoke suddenly. "Just wait one second." They stopped and looked up in confusion as Justin darted for the exit.
Outside, Becca stood with hers and JC's parents. He approached her. "Becca," he said in an exhausted voice. "You have to see him one last time. You have to say good-bye."
Her hand was up by her collarbone, clutching the small, gold cross that hung from around her neck, and she stared at him.
"We all do," he said, looking up at the parents. "Please, we need to say good-bye." He held out his hand to Becca.
Her gaze fell to his fingers and she placed her hand in his. This was right... it had to be.
When they got inside, JC was standing in the middle of the room with his back to the casket. The other men were closer to the body, but weren't looking.
Justin looked straight at JC. "I brought them to say good-bye," he said as both sets of parents spilled into the room.
"I really don't want them to see," JC mumbled. "They can say good-bye without looking."
"We need this."
"Justin."
He turned toward Becca and she squeezed his hand. "I'm not sure I can do this," she whispered.
"Yes, you can," he whispered back as he led her toward the casket. He knelt down on the kneeler in the front of the body and looked at her. There were tears streaming down her cheeks and he could tell she wanted to run away. "Come on, Becca," he said in a soft voice, pulling a little on her hand.
Finally, she got down next to him and put his arm around her. "Do you want me to go first?"
She nodded as she wiped away her tears.
Justin sniffed. He was all choked up, so he took a deep, shaky breath and closed his eyes. "JC," he whispered. "I know you're not in there..." he opened his eyes and looked at JC's lifeless face. "but..." His face was so white and he didn't even look real. "Oh, God, JC, this is not how I want to remember you."
"Don't," a voice behind him said. "Don't remember me that way."
"I won't," he answered. "I can't. Where was I?" Becca was shaking and he pulled her closer. "Oh, yeah... I know you're not in there, but I hope you're listening somehow. I KNOW you're out there listening... I'm sure of it, and even though you probably already know what's going through my deranged and shattered mind, I want to tell you again." He put his index finger and thumb on each side of the bridge of his nose and took a deep, shaky breath. "You were my best friend, JC," he said in a broken voice. "And I'll never forget you." Becca let out a sob as he whispered good-bye.
"God, Justin, must you make such a big deal out of this?" JC paced back and forth behind the family. He hated watching everyone cry over him.
"You're dead, JC," he replied. "And I've got to accept that."
JC sighed. "If only you were happy, then you wouldn't have to accept it because I'd be BACK."
"I need to..." he trailed off. "Becca, are you ready?"
"No," she mumbled into his shoulder. "But I don't think I'll ever be ready." She turned to JC's body and wiped her eyes. When she looked down at him, her eyes filled with more tears and she couldn't help but think about the accident. They said he died quickly and hadn't felt any pain... that he didn't even know what hit him... but how could she know for sure?
"Did it hurt, JC?" she asked in a teary voice. "I pray to God that it didn't." When she looked behind herself, she found that she and Justin were alone with JC's body. She figured that they wanted to give her privacy or something, but she didn't care.
Justin rubbed her shoulder. "It's okay," he whispered.
JC appeared next to him. "Tell her that you're positive it didn't hurt... that I never felt anything."
"Becca," he started. "JC didn't feel it. I'm positive. Didn't the doctors tell you that?"
She nodded. "But how can they be sure?"
He shrugged. "I don't know, but they were right this time. Trust me."
She nodded again and then looked back down at JC's face. If he got hit so badly, then they sure did a good job of covering up his cuts. "Justin, have you ever wondered that maybe... well, that maybe he's not really dead and this is all a big scam? How do we know that he's really dead?"
Chapter 7
Almost A Memory Now
JC {Fiction}
Justin {Fiction}
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I'll Never Stop {Fiction}
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