All material on this site, except where otherwise explicitly stated, is copyright of the author known as Ann Somerville. All art, except where otherwise explicitly stated, is copyright of the artist known as Kiriko Moth

  Going Away

Copyright © 2008 Ann Somerville

Harrison paid for the bottle of JB with an oily twenty and walked out to the pickup. He climbed into the truck, pulled his cowboy hat down against the low sun, tossed the bottle onto the passenger seat next to the flashlight. Then he pulled out onto the road and, heading west, out of town.

The cemetery had managed to avoid the urban sprawl and retain a little of the rural peace the city folks came looking for. Realtors made a point of driving clients past it, pointing out the willow trees, the lightning-blasted oak, and the hand-carved, weathered wooden markers. There wasn’t much else charming about Lucasville, so the realtors did what they could.

Charm was the last thing on his mind today, or any day. Charm was for people with money, good jobs, nice education. Harrison Bidner had to make do with getting by best he could.

He pulled the truck into the parking area, well away from the only other car there. Then he took the JB and the flashlight and walked over to the grassy graves on the riverside, screwed the top off the bottle and poured out a quarter. He took a slug himself, wiped his mouth, and sat down on the grave, resting against the fancy black granite headstone Fisher’s parents had bought for him.

He tipped his hat down lower and took another sip. No point in drinking it fast. He’d get smashed that way, and he didn’t want that.

The sunlight gradually faded, and the cicadas and frogs set up a shrill soundtrack, but Harrison tuned it out easily, his attention miles away and years ago. To a yard behind a house, and two friends holding hands, promising things never to be. One hesitant kiss, ears alert for the slightest sound of parental movement, and a goodbye that hadn’t been enough for a last one.

“You plan on keeping this up for the rest of your life?”

Harrison didn’t turn around. There was nothing to see. No light to see it even if there were. “Why not? One day a year, a bottle of JB. Not a lot of trouble for a friend’s birthday.”

“Libations are for gods. I don’t need that.”

Harrison didn’t know what a libation was, and didn’t care. “I didn’t come out here for no lecture, Fisher.”

“Don’t mean to give you one, but I'm worried about you.”

“I'm fine. Working, seeing people. I got friends. I ain’t hanging around because of you.”

“No? Who are you seeing?”

Harrison took another sip of JB. “People. You know, guys. Casual.”

“Doesn’t sound like you.”

“Well I ain’t that kid no more. I'm twenty-two. Only reason I'm out here is that I promised to take you drinking on your birthday once you were legal, and I did. You said this last year. Do we have to fight every time?” He hated this. Made him feel all cold inside, thinking if Fisher hadn’t died in that stupid air crash, maybe they’d be lovers who argued all the time. Or maybe not lovers at all. He’d made a lot of that one kiss.

“Fisher?”

“Still here.”

“You kiss anyone up in Austin?”

“It’s taken you three years to ask that?”

“That a yes?”

“No, Harry. Why would I kiss anyone when you were waiting for me to come home?”

“Cos… Well, it wasn’t Lucasville, was it? More people in that whole place than in this town.”

“None of them were you. I waited for you and you waited for me. Time to stop waiting, and move on.”

“Can’t.” Harrison scrubbed his eyes, then wiped the mouth of the bottle, like that had been his intention all along. “You were supposed to come back and when you did, they barely had enough to bury. Most of you is still scattered—”

“Don’t. That’s not me. This is me, and I'm saying, move on. Don’t come back here again.”

Harrison swallowed a few times before he could answer. “You mean that?”

The cicadas sang and the frogs chirped. A cool breeze flicked the willow branches and made them rustle. An owl called from the blasted oak, long and mournful. But Fisher didn’t answer.

Harrison switched on the flashlight. “Do you, Fisher?”

“No. Yes. You have to, so I can.”

“Move on? You want to leave me?”

“No! But I have to, Harry. You have to. I can’t leave until you do.”

The first time Fisher spoke to him, Harrison thought he was dreaming. Now he waited all year for the chance to speak to him, the anniversary of Fisher’s birth the same as the day he died. Flying home from college upstate as a gift from his parents, killed as the plane came into land. If Fisher left him now…

“I can’t,” Harrison whispered. “I don’t want you to go.” But if Fisher was trapped here by Harrison’s grief… Neither of them would ever move on. Maybe Harrison would never get over it, but Fisher, he had heaven to go to, or…something. Something better than being a ghost in a graveyard, for sure. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He wanted Fisher to have more than a handful of booze-soaked dirt.

He slowly climbed to his feet and swung the flashlight around to where Fisher’s voice came from. Nothing there of course. “All right. Go. I won’t be back. It’s o-over. Dead boyfriends suck anyway.”

He gritted his teeth and willed the tears not to fall. “You hear me, Fisher Delahunty? I'm heading down right now to O’Friels and I'm picking up the first guy I see, and I'm gonna—”

“Who the hell are you talking to?”

Harrison nearly jumped clean out of his skin, and dropped the flashlight. He bent and picked it up, quickly wiping his eyes. “Uh, no one?”

He swung the beam and found a guy about his age blinking against the glare. Harrison lowered the flashlight a little and the guy relaxed. “You spend a lot of time shouting in graveyards?” the guy asked.

“What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”

The guy gave him a look. “Visiting my mom’s grave. I was just listening to the radio in the car and I saw the flashlight. I thought someone might be in trouble when I heard the yelling.”

“Oh. When did your mom pass?”

“Died this last winter. I'm Evan Hant.”

He held out his hand and Harrison shook it. Good firm grip. “Mrs. Hant? Pam Hant? Didn’t know she had a son.”

“I moved to Florida with my dad when I was seven. Mom left me the house and I'm thinking of moving back. Came to check a few things out first.”

“Sorry for your loss,” Harrison said, and meant it. He remembered his own mother’s death too keenly.

Evan shrugged, his mouth turned down. “You lost someone?” He nodded at Fisher’s grave, where the bottle of JB stood, half-tipped over.

Harrison could have lied, but Evan heard what he’d been yelling, and he didn’t look pissed about it. “My friend. Boyfriend. Plane crash three years ago.”

Evan, to Harrison’s surprise and relief, only shook his head. “Man, I'm sorry.” He looked up, the light catching the strong angles of his face. “To tell the truth, that’s why I'm moving back. My, uh, boyfriend and I broke up last month. Wanted a fresh start.”

Move on. The voice was in his head this time, but it was still Fisher’s. “I'm done here,” Harrison said. “You maybe want to grab a beer or something?”

Evan smiled. “Sure. Don’t know too many people round the place any more.”

“Well, now you know one.”

They walked towards the parking lot. “Excuse me a sec,” Harrison said. “Just gotta pick up…here, take the flashlight. I can find my way back.”

Evan smiled. “I’ll put my headlights on for you.”

Harrison waited until Evan walked all the way back to his car, and the headlights came on. Then he made his way carefully to Fisher’s grave, and stood before it. “I’ll always love you, Fisher. Miss you like hell.”

“Me too, Harry. But let me go, and move on. I want you to be happy again.”

“With him?”

“Whoever you need.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Sure. But not for a long time, you hear?”

Harrison grinned and sniffled. “Do my best. Keep an eye on me.”

“Always. And Harry…we’ll have that birthday drink together one day.”

Then there was only the cicadas and the frogs and the owls. Harrison bent to pick up the bottle, then smiled as he poured the rest of the sipping whiskey onto the grave, shaking out the last drop. “Don’t know about no libations, Fisher, but you can use this more than God can.”

He straightened. “Love you,” he mouthed into the dark. Then he turned and headed towards the lights, and Evan.

The End