flickered off, briefly plunging the place into shadowy darkness before snapping back on.
With a shout, Drew leaped to his feet, sending thepaw spinning to the floor. “It moved!” he cried, his eyes wide. “Its fingers wrapped around mine. I swear. I made the wish and that thing held my hand!”
“Get a grip,” said Collin, patting Drew’s shoulder. “That thing couldn’t possibly have moved, doofus.”
“It did,” Drew said, his voice shaky. “I swear. It moved.” He clutched my arm. “You believe me, don’t you, Lily?”
His eyes were so intense, so sincere.
Something wicked this way comes
.
“Let’s go,” I said, unable to keep an edge of urgency from creeping into my voice. “I think we should go.”
“Whatever,” Collin said, and cleared off the table while Drew bent to pick up the paw. He used his thumb and forefinger, as if he was picking up a pair of sweaty gym socks. Then he stuffed the paw back into his pocket.
Tight-lipped and tense, Drew followed us as we made our way through the mall and out into the parking lot.
“Just imagine it, bro,” said Collin, trying to lighten the mood. “When we get home, I bet your Gran Torino will be parked right out front—red with black leather seats. And sitting right behind the three-spoke steering wheel, wearing a little orange fez, will be your chauffeur—a one-handed monkey!”
Drew tried on a laugh. “And
I
need a sense of humor?”
He stepped off the curb.
There was the blare of a horn … the squealing oftires … Collin shouting, “Drew!” as he shoved his brother out of the way and then … a sickening thump.
So much blood. Everywhere. I ran to Collin, fell to the asphalt, held him close. His skin felt warm, but his eyes were frozen wide open, unmoving.
I whispered in his ear, “Wake up! Please, my heart, my love!” I shook him.
He grew heavy in my arms. And heavier.
“Oh God, oh God …”
A thread of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth—that beautiful, beautiful mouth. I wiped it away.
Then the sirens came.
And the numbness.
After the ambulance had taken Collin’s body away, a policeman asked if I’d seen the car that had hit him.
“I’ll always love him,” I replied, my thoughts as trembling and detached as a leaf pausing in the air before the wind takes it. “I’ll never love anyone else. Not as long as I live.”
“Miss?” the policeman said. He laid a gentle hand on my arm. “Can you remember anything?”
I shook my head blankly.
Blow, blow, thou winter wind …
“I can.” Drew stumbled forward, shock and horror etched on his face. “I saw it.” His lips shaped his next words with effort. “It was a … a … Gran Torino—a 1972 Gran Torino with an … an optional laser stripe and … and Magnum 500 wheels.”
***
I can recall only bits and pieces of Collin’s funeral—the stifling heat of the church; those endless, useless prayers; the nauseating, overripe smell of lilies.
O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day! Most lamentable day, most woeful day, that ever, ever I did yet behold!
What sticks most in my memory is the long line of cars mournfully crawling the two miles to Mount Hope Cemetery, where—sick and dizzy and clinging to Drew’s hand, feeling like I’d crumble if I let go—I stood beside that hole cut deep into the ground.
Collin’s grave.
O day! O day! O day! O hateful day! Never was seen so black a day as this. O woeful day! O woeful day!
I wish I could say that my earlier numbness remained. It didn’t. Now I felt
everything
. The loss of Collin ate away at my bones, the pain creeping through my veins. Everything—his picture in my wallet, his heart-enclosed initials on my notebook covers—was a dreadful reminder that once he had existed, but now I had lost him.
And so I slept. Afternoon. Night. Morning. It made no difference. Sleep was my forgetting. My oblivion. My only peace.
To sleep, perchance to dream …
Food forgotten, I grew gaunt,
With a shout, Drew leaped to his feet, sending thepaw spinning to the floor. “It moved!” he cried, his eyes wide. “Its fingers wrapped around mine. I swear. I made the wish and that thing held my hand!”
“Get a grip,” said Collin, patting Drew’s shoulder. “That thing couldn’t possibly have moved, doofus.”
“It did,” Drew said, his voice shaky. “I swear. It moved.” He clutched my arm. “You believe me, don’t you, Lily?”
His eyes were so intense, so sincere.
Something wicked this way comes
.
“Let’s go,” I said, unable to keep an edge of urgency from creeping into my voice. “I think we should go.”
“Whatever,” Collin said, and cleared off the table while Drew bent to pick up the paw. He used his thumb and forefinger, as if he was picking up a pair of sweaty gym socks. Then he stuffed the paw back into his pocket.
Tight-lipped and tense, Drew followed us as we made our way through the mall and out into the parking lot.
“Just imagine it, bro,” said Collin, trying to lighten the mood. “When we get home, I bet your Gran Torino will be parked right out front—red with black leather seats. And sitting right behind the three-spoke steering wheel, wearing a little orange fez, will be your chauffeur—a one-handed monkey!”
Drew tried on a laugh. “And
I
need a sense of humor?”
He stepped off the curb.
There was the blare of a horn … the squealing oftires … Collin shouting, “Drew!” as he shoved his brother out of the way and then … a sickening thump.
So much blood. Everywhere. I ran to Collin, fell to the asphalt, held him close. His skin felt warm, but his eyes were frozen wide open, unmoving.
I whispered in his ear, “Wake up! Please, my heart, my love!” I shook him.
He grew heavy in my arms. And heavier.
“Oh God, oh God …”
A thread of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth—that beautiful, beautiful mouth. I wiped it away.
Then the sirens came.
And the numbness.
After the ambulance had taken Collin’s body away, a policeman asked if I’d seen the car that had hit him.
“I’ll always love him,” I replied, my thoughts as trembling and detached as a leaf pausing in the air before the wind takes it. “I’ll never love anyone else. Not as long as I live.”
“Miss?” the policeman said. He laid a gentle hand on my arm. “Can you remember anything?”
I shook my head blankly.
Blow, blow, thou winter wind …
“I can.” Drew stumbled forward, shock and horror etched on his face. “I saw it.” His lips shaped his next words with effort. “It was a … a … Gran Torino—a 1972 Gran Torino with an … an optional laser stripe and … and Magnum 500 wheels.”
***
I can recall only bits and pieces of Collin’s funeral—the stifling heat of the church; those endless, useless prayers; the nauseating, overripe smell of lilies.
O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day! Most lamentable day, most woeful day, that ever, ever I did yet behold!
What sticks most in my memory is the long line of cars mournfully crawling the two miles to Mount Hope Cemetery, where—sick and dizzy and clinging to Drew’s hand, feeling like I’d crumble if I let go—I stood beside that hole cut deep into the ground.
Collin’s grave.
O day! O day! O day! O hateful day! Never was seen so black a day as this. O woeful day! O woeful day!
I wish I could say that my earlier numbness remained. It didn’t. Now I felt
everything
. The loss of Collin ate away at my bones, the pain creeping through my veins. Everything—his picture in my wallet, his heart-enclosed initials on my notebook covers—was a dreadful reminder that once he had existed, but now I had lost him.
And so I slept. Afternoon. Night. Morning. It made no difference. Sleep was my forgetting. My oblivion. My only peace.
To sleep, perchance to dream …
Food forgotten, I grew gaunt,
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