Here is a short story submitted to the Rhine Short Story contest 2017. It’s based on a true story. Enjoy 🙂
Although the sun has no competition in the Carolina blue sky, it is too cold outside to have a graveyard service. I sit near the front of the memorial chapel with an unimpeded view of the brushed steel and silver filigreed coffin, the sun is shining through the prismed glass of the vaulted ceilings leaving small rainbows on the floor and walls.
“Life is not all sunshine and rainbows,” I used to say to the occupant of the coffin when her mad ideas brought her too close to disaster, “Your karma will catch up with you.”
“I’ll be careful when I’m old,” she would reply, “Now is the time for adventures!”
The coffin lid is closed and covered with a blanket of Baby’s Breath, pink tea flowers and fragrant lilies, her favorites. One of my still living friends is standing at the podium to the right of the coffin telling the mourners in a shaky voice about the misadventures of our mutual friend and partner in crime. Flashes of memories come to my mind as I smile through my tears. She was such a force of nature, burning brightly, which is why we all called her Firefly, but like the insect for which she was named, she was gone in a flash.
I could have prevented this, I think, It’s my fault she’s in there. I should have done more. This is the internal litany which has plagued me from the moment I got the news. I could hear nothing else.
The family had decided not to have a viewing because of the extensive damage her body had experienced in the accident. I stare at the coffin, my imagination traveling down the morbid road of conjecture as to the state of the corpse within until my stomach turns and threatens to release its contents onto the floor. I shake myself from that unpleasant reverie and my mind goes, instead to the goddamned dream.
It happened late at night. I am sitting in the middle row of a minivan, my sister, Windy, in the front seat and Firefly is driving. Cozy, Misspell, Mandy, and Shiny are in the seats next to me and in the seats behind mine. As per usual, we are all carrying on as young college women do that have everything ahead of them and an easy road to travel. We are headed to St. Augustine Florida to stay in a beach house for the winter break. It would be a twelve hour drive, but Firefly said we could take turns at the wheel.
“Look, look,” my sister said to her, holding the cell phone up so Firefly could see the series of text messages. She took her eyes off the road long enough to read the texts but also long enough to allow the minivan to drift over the double yellow line into oncoming traffic. A semi truck’s horn blasted her to awareness, but she had no time to maneuver the van out of the way in time. All of us were screaming.
I awoke abruptly from the dream behaving as if I was still in the throes of the fatal crash. My roommate jumped half out of her bed groggily staring at me.
“What the hell?’ she asked.
I stopped and stared at her and then around the room we shared as if I had been moved from one reality into another.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “That was a really bad dream.”
“Ya’ think?” she asked sarcastically as she plopped her head dramatically back down onto her pillow. She threw the covers over her head in a snit.
I had gotten up shakily, my legs still quivering from the experience, and walked to the bathroom to splash water on my face. Never before in my entire life had I ever had a dream so vivid or, as it would turn out, so earth-shatteringly life-altering.
Weeks had passed and I had all but forgotten that dream when early in December, Firefly came up to me with the grand idea of a beach trip to St. Augustine Florida.
“Look, we have a choice of going home to family, which, let’s face it, we’ve done all our lives,” she said, “Let’s just get a beach house together and have fun instead. We can borrow a minivan to drive down.”
Under normal circumstances, I would have replied with an enthusiastic ‘yes’ and then planned devious methods for diverting my parents from their inevitable desire to have Windy and I home for the holidays, but instead, the dream from so many nights ago came flooding back to the forefront of my mind.
“I don’t know,” I said, “let me think about it.” And then I walked away from Firefly who stared at me, puzzled.
At first, I couldn’t decide what to do. The desire to shake this silly but persistent dread and go on yet another adventure with her was just as strong as my fear of the potential consequences spelled out in my dream. I did what any self-respecting kid would do, I avoided the issue. She pestered me mercilessly as I came up with one excuse after another for why I couldn’t go. I tried to say I wanted to take a mini semester over the winter break, then that I wanted to go home after all. None of these ploys worked on her. She persisted with her usual argument “You only live once.” Finally, I decided the truth was in order, so I voiced my concerns without divulging their source directly for fear of her inevitable derision that I would be so silly as to be afraid of a dream of all things.
“Look, Firefly,” I began, “I just have a really bad feeling about this trip. OK? Just…understand, please.”
“You have bad feelings about everything,” Firefly argued, “but everything always turns out fine.”
“I don’t think it will this time,” I said.
“Whatever,” she said and then walked away in a huff.
That was the last time I saw her alive. Instead, I sit in a room full of people wearing somber clothes, their sniffles and sobs echoing through the chapel. I look toward her parents, God, how I wish I could tell them how sorry I am that their little Firefly was gone and that it was all my fault. I turn and look back at yet another student who is standing at the podium, another life irrevocably changed, speaking about the loss of a good friend.
“I know how trite this may sound, God,” I pray silently to myself, “but please turn back time and let me fix this. I mean, why would you give me the vision if you didn’t mean for me to stop it somehow. I just need a second chance to do it right.”
I had played the last scene between me and Firefly over and over again like a film director unhappy with his actors’ lines. Each time, I used a more convincing argument for canceling the trip or deciding on a different destination or even inviting her home with me and Windy if she was dead set against visiting her own family. I even delved into the more insane ideas of tying her up with rope and stashing her in my room at home for a few days or maybe even puncturing the minivan’s tires. Scenario after scenario tortured me with its impossibility.
“Go in peace,” the minister intones.
I look up and around as the people stand and move quietly out of the pews. I follow them out through the doors of the chapel into the cold winter day and blink at the mocking sunlight. I stare fixedly at the steps leading down to the sidewalk leading to the parking lot walking quickly to avoid the others as I make my way to the car. I mash the button on the car fob to unlock the door and pile in, slamming it in time to prevent anyone outside from hearing my sobs.
“I should have done something! Dammit, why didn’t I stop this?” I cry slamming my hands down repeatedly on the innocent steering wheel. I feel a hand on one of mine.
“You did do something,” said a voice next to me. My sister, Windy is sitting there, perfectly healthy and smiling gently. She squeezes my hand, “You saved my life.”