Very Bad Things

I continued with life. What else could I do?

Three days after Finn had shown up, a pale Aunt Portia greeted me as I walked in the shop after school.

“I need to talk to you,” she said to me, steering me past the late lunch customers and into the kitchen.

“Come here and sit,” she said, attempting a small smile, but it wasn’t her usual perky one. She sat down and I sat stiffly across from her. She took both my hands in hers, and it was then that I knew, oh yes, I truly knew something had happened. A cold sweat broke out over me, and my mouth dried.

“Your brother . . .,” she began, but stopped.

“Tell me.”

She sighed. “There’s no easy way to say this, but there was a pile-up on Interstate 10 near Houston. Your brother . . . Finn’s car . . . crashed into an eighteen wheeler. It caught fire…”

“He’s dead?”

She nodded and mumbled something about policemen and dental records and my parents, but it didn’t make sense. Her voice kept swelling and expanding, and I couldn’t understand anything she said. Needing to be grounded, I lay my head down on the cold table, letting the hard surface support me. I heard her saying my name over and over until, blessedly, I heard nothing at all.

IN THE DAYS that followed Finn’s death, I moved in a numb daze, and it reminded me of the sad girl I used to be. I had obligations, so I called my parents. Dad made plans to meet me for breakfast before the funeral. Mother refused to speak to me. I was good with that. I did happen to catch her Good Morning, Dallas show the next day. She appeared on camera in a soft-blue suit, teary eyed, yet as beautiful as ever as she announced the death of her son. That’s her, always milking it, looking for an angle to help her climb to the top of the network’s ladder.

Dad came to Aunt Portia’s before the funeral, and we went back to the kitchen to eat. We sat on the counter, eating hot cinnamon buns and drinking coffee, our legs dangling as we talked. When we were done, he surprised me by opening his briefcase and giving me the papers to sign that would put my prize money in my name.

“I’m proud of you for having the balls to leave,” he told me, his eyes watery. “I know there’s a rift between us, but I do love you.”

I studied his sad face. “Did you ever say anything to Mother about what I told you?”

He nodded. “She denies it all.”

“And you still believe me?”

He paled. “God, of course, Nora.”

I nodded. “Did you confront Finn?”

His lips tightened. “I told the motherfucker if he came near you again, I’d stab him myself.” He shrugged. “He’s dead now. We need to move on.”

I bit my lip, scared to hope. Maybe there was a chance for me and him after all.

HIS FUNERAL SHOCKED me, I guess because death always takes us by surprise, especially when it’s a young person. We think we’re invincible, but we’re not. One way or another, we’re all placed six feet under. It made me even more determined to live the rest of my life as a happy person.

Was I glad that Finn was gone? Yes. We’re taught that forgiveness is good for your soul, so some will say I’m going to hell for my unwillingness, but neither Finn nor Mother would ever get absolution from me.

I’m no Mother Teresa.

Drew, Sebastian, Mila, and Leo all came to the funeral, but Leo was the person I gazed at. As I drank him in, I thought about how easily life can be snuffed out, never to be lived again. I thought about how Leo had lost his parents in the blink of an eye. And it sounded so cliché, but life is precious, and we only get one shot at it. So when the minister started talking about living life to its fullest, I realized I hadn’t. I’d been living day to day, always stuck looking at the past, just trying to survive.

I didn’t want to coast by anymore.

I wanted some fucking happiness.

As I sat in that cathedral, it dawned on me, an extraordinary moment when I realized that being happy could be a choice, not some elusive state of euphoria that few ever achieve. I didn’t want to spend a lifetime waiting for happiness to find me. It was never going to come knocking on my door, inviting me to come out and play.

It was up to me to decide if I wanted to live a bleak existence, constantly thinking about what had happened to me, or I could make a conscious decision to be happy now, to be grateful for what I had. To live. To love.

I was responsible for my own happiness.

If there was something out there that made me happy, it was up to me to go get it.

I knew exactly what I wanted.

“I’m breaking out of this cage.

It begins today.”

–Nora Blakely

THREE DAYS LATER, Halloween and the big grand opening party at Club Vita finally arrived.

It was cool at night now, so Leo rented several standing gas heaters for the patio. The party rental place had set up a huge white tent next to the back parking lot and adjacent to the pool. Inside the tent, Tiffani set up the main bar, the buffet tables, and seating. She’d also set up two bar areas that were close to the pool. With over three hundred people coming, it was going to be huge.

Earlier that morning, the band had sat down and talked about the performance. We hadn’t even chosen a name yet so that became imperative. After a lot of laughs, we went with Teddy’s suggestion, the Vital Rejects. Leo suggested he only play the second set since he would be busy making sure the party got off to a great start. Sebastian could play guitar although he wasn’t as skilled as Leo, so we decided to focus on predominately piano centered songs.