“Ms. Davis, uh, is Autumn okay? I mean, none of us are okay, and I’m worried about Angelina too. It’s just—” Suddenly I feel terrible for asking.
“Autumn will be okay, and so will you. We all will be.” She looks at me the way she did when I arrived, but this time, I think she’s trying to convince herself too. “Life can be and often is fiercely cruel,” she continues. “You and Autumn have learned that a little younger than most, but you all, including Finny, would have had to learn it eventually.” Her voice falters. She takes a deep breath and gives me a weak smile. “Angelina and I already knew that about life. She—we’ve—losing a child is the worst, but we’ll survive, because we must. We all will, including Autumn. Including you.”
I nod because she needs me to, not because I agree.
“The arrangements still have to be made, but I’m sure we’ll see you at the wake, Jack,” she says before going inside. “Thanks again.”
two
As I drive to Alexis’s house, a strange thing happens. It’s like I’m watching myself. It’s not an out-of-body experience; I can’t see myself, but I don’t make choices or feel any emotions. Everything I do is automatic and remote.
It isn’t until after I’ve parked that I see that the street is crowded with cars. I’ve parked a few houses down from my normal spot.
I don’t recognize the girl with the tear-streaked face who answers the door and points to the basement before heading to the bathroom. I guess she doesn’t recognize me either.
In the basement there is, indeed, a strange, sad party of sorts going on, with so many more people than I would have thought. There is crying, and there is alcohol and weed mixed in with the crying, even though it’s only noon, even though Alexis’s parents could theoretically come home from work early and catch us all.
I wish I could tell Finn how seeing the foosball table makes me want to fall to my knees and sob, because he would think it was funny and make a joke about the times he kicked my ass on it. But if I could tell Finn anything at all, then it would be a meaningless foosball table. We’d never think of that table again after next year. Now I want to both kiss that foosball table and set it on fire so no one else can touch it since Finn’s gone.
Before my thoughts can spiral, Alexis comes up to me and throws her arms around my neck as if we still love each other.
“I can’t believe it’s true,” she says, as if only a few hours ago, she wasn’t the one convincing me.
I pat her back with one hand as I scan the space. The feeling of living outside myself lingers. People are gathered in little knots around the room, speaking in low voices. Ricky from the soccer team is putting his hand on the shoulder of a girl who never gave him the time of day before.
“How are you doing?” Alexis asks me.
Jasmine steps closer to Ricky, and I think about Finn telling him to tone it down, we didn’t need to hear all his thoughts on her body.
“Jack?” Alexis asks. She takes a step back, and my gaze pans the room before coming in for her close-up.
“It doesn’t matter,” I hear myself say.
Alexis nods. “Yeah, it really puts everything in perspective, doesn’t it? Remember how I said my life was over when I was wait-listed for WashU? That seems so stupid now.”
“Yeah,” I say, as if she’s responded to what I said. She’s clearly been using the WashU line all night.
All day.
Light from the high basement window filters into the room, illuminating dust motes in the air. This nighttime atmosphere in the afternoon has an absurdity to it that suits this horrible situation. Nothing feels as it should.
Alexis is saying something to me, but all my focus is on trying to figure out how this moment can feel like déjà vu if Finn is dead.
“Yeah?” I say.
Alexis starts to reach for me, then seems to understand that I’m not up for pretending to be a couple. I note how easily she switches modes.
“Why don’t I get you a beer?” she says.
After Alexis hands me a drink and goes off to play hostess elsewhere, I try to find a place to sit down, preferably alone.
My sense of detachment is gone, replaced entirely by a quiet horror. I’ve hung out with Finn and Sylvie so many times in this underground room. Is that the source of this new yet familiar feeling?
A few people greet me warily as I walk past. At least two people whisper, “his best friend,” but I don’t join any groups. I find a beanbag chair in the corner, far enough away from the nearest group that they don’t feel the need to include me. I wipe the condensation off my hand holding the beer and take a sip. Talking with Alexis has brought back a snippet of dialogue from our phone call.