Sunsets
The sun weeps rays of color across the sky as he lies down on the horizon for the last time. Blue, purple, green, yellow, orange streaks sweep through the clouds; the moon takes her place as guardian of the night that will never come. Sunsets finalize the day, signaling a break from the internal chaos, from the wars that haunt our neurons and synapses. It’s a time of repose as everyone peeks through the curtains in their windows to look at the raining light. A momentary distraction from the news of politics and nuclear warfare, a time set aside for remembering what it’s like to be alive instead of the machines we have become. But we all know this time isn’t like the rest. Some people have chosen to keep their curtains tightly closed as they hold hands and pray to the gods that can’t save them. They’ve chosen to go out as cowards, shutting their eyes and weeping over the lives they’ll never get to live. That’s too damn pathetic for me.
The grass pokes through the holes in the scratchy, wool blanket, providing an all too itchy situation. This blanket has been in my family for decades. It cradled my grandmother as she came screaming into the world, and now it’s cradling me as I make my drunken exit. Maybe I’ll scream, we’ll see. My partner in crime (literally, we stole all our party favors earlier this afternoon) sits stretched out beside me, a cigarette dangling from her fingers and a bottle of Jack in between her legs.
“I’m gonna be honest with you,” Avery speaks through the cloud of smoke, “I don’t know why I’ve never tried this sooner.” She takes a long pull from the cigarette, blowing the smoke out in attempted rings. Maybe because your father died after an arduous battle with lung cancer, and you swore to me that you would rather get trampled by a thousand horses before you touched tobacco. We were seven. But why ruin the moment? I snatch the bottle from her legs and tip its contents back into my mouth. The whiskey burns as it goes down, causing wet coughs to wrench from my throat.
“Jesus,” I manage through the coughs, “this is tough.”
“But worth it,” Avery raises an eyebrow and nods her head in my direction. Fuck worth it. Nothing’s worth anything anymore, which is why I decided to hold this whole “Last Fricken Night on Earth” party in the first place. It’s supposed to be an opportunity for all us hopeless characters in the final chapter of this novel to go out in style. Only, no one showed up because they’re all scared. I groan in exasperation and roll away from Avery, standing up and leaving the safety of my blanket-cradle behind.
“Shit!” I yell out, for no reason, I think, other than to say it. I’m just doing what feels good at this point. The sky begins to darken as the sun’s tears break apart. I read in the Bible once (or a thousand times) that God told Abraham he would have descendants as numerous as the stars. The stars aren’t so numerous anymore, buddy. What about my descendants? I almost expect the stars to come out and say, ‘jokes on you! The world’s not ending after all! Hope you didn’t fuck up everything too badly!’ But my expectations have never been met before, so why would right now be any different?
“You know what would be totally awesome?” Avery gets up to stand next to me.
“What?”
“If we did a front flip.” She says it so matter-of-factly, as if a front flip is that easy.
“Ave, front flips take loads of practice.”
“But what if we just did it. Come on, you can’t tell me you’ve never wanted to do a front flip.”
I roll my eyes. As irresponsible as I am, I tend to be the voice of reason between Avery and me. When we were kids, I was the one who stopped her from running away, from eating worms, from buying a naked mole rat. Naturally, she was the one who convinced me to shave my head and pierce certain areas. Our friendship shouldn’t have worked out as well as it did, but 18 years later and we’re still goin’ strong. In whatever afterlife the universe has planned for us, will we still be together? If not, who’s going to take care of her when this is all over?
“Screw it, I’m going for it.” She tosses the cigarette aside. I stomp it out. Again, for no reason. Habit, I suppose. Avery begins to crack her knuckles and her back, shakes out her shoulders. It’s out of my hands at this point.
“Please don’t…” my words halt. Don’t… what? Don’t hurt yourself? Don’t die? A little late for that, to be honest. Avery lets out a whoop and a sort of warrior screech, her legs taking off in a run. With the sun streaks fading out and the moon shining light down for no one to see, Avery looks like some sort of avenging angel, here to kick ass and take names. Angels… what a joke. When my mom forced me to go to Bible School on Sundays, I learned that the Archangels existed to smite those who went against God’s will, to protect the pure of heart and whatnot. Am I not good enough to deserve protection?
My eyes, unable to shut in fear, glue to the only angel present as she pushes off the ground in slow motion, rotates, and sticks the landing. I expect her to whip her head around with the world’s largest smile stretched across her face. Instead, she sinks to her knees. The moment breaks. I run over to her.
“Ave,” I say as I crouch next to her. She turns her face toward mine, salty tears fall from her eyes and splash onto the ground, making it rumble with their weight. The look on her face should have been victorious, consistent with the rest of her attitude to our situation. Rather, she aged 20 years from the beginning of the flip to the end, her expression holding the burdens of a thousand lifetimes. I don’t ask her what’s wrong, I don’t have to. I just hold her as she weeps silently, clutching to me with a fierceness only she could maintain. The ground continues to rumble, the sun takes his final resting place below the line where the grass meets the sky. After a couple minutes, Avery speaks softly.
“Brooke, I’m going to be honest with you… I don’t know why people smoke cigarettes. It’s overhyped.” I laugh slightly, a little in shock at her change in opinion. She laughs with me, and soon we’re both lost, subject to the abdominal pain that comes with years of true friendship. The ground shakes harder. I can hear the prayers of the people getting louder, their desperation growing stronger. And all Avery and I can do is laugh.
“Hey,” I begin, as the laughter dies out, yelling now over the sound of the Earth’s crust breaking, “do you want to go bowling?”
“Bowling?”
“Yeah. Bowling. That would be fun, right? With the lights and the music and the beer.” Avery picks up on my little game, joining in my distraction from the fear that threatens to choke and consume us both.
“Could we get cheese fries? You know I love cheese fries.” I grab her hand. She clutches back. The sky begins to break apart and fall in fiery pieces, like the white-hot tears of God.
“Duh. Cheese fries with extra cheese and extra fries.” Moisture falls from our eyes and wets our cheeks, but neither acknowledge them. It would be pointless.
“Then, after we go bowling we can go backpacking through Europe,” she suggests quietly.
“I’ve never been to Europe.”
“Neither have I. That’s why it’ll be the adventure of all adventures.” Avery’s voice goes small. A fire from the sky catches near our blanket, effectively lighting the mostly full boxes of cigarettes. Hey, at least we won’t get lung cancer now. We sit, watching the end of life as we know it, musing about the lives we’ll never live. Then I remember, I never did my front flip. I stand up, brush off pants, and squeeze Avery’s hand before letting go. She looks at me, confused, before it clicks. With fires blazing around us and the sky betraying its subjects and falling, I run, I jump, I rotate, and I land. The fires are close now. I’m sweating from their heat. In a fashion that I expected of Avery earlier, I whip my head around to catch her eye. She’s cheering me on, and I smile, opening my mouth to call out to her.
“Did you see-”
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