The Questionable Death

It was a closed casket. Of course, it was a closed casket! No proof of the body? I thought as much. I won’t be giving a clear or realistic narration if I was to say it was a happy, enjoyable day. It is always very painful to see all the loved ones of any particular person gathered together to mourn a death. This day, in particular, was dreadfully saddening. All in black, we gathered in a small, local church for the ceremony. One was bound to, at the very least, give a soft sob. It was only natural to enter a deep state of melancholia at the funeral of Axel F. Oyster.

I tried to act in the best way I could, to appease the public. I did provide viewers with a fair display of grief. Contrary to my external performance, however, I was not in sorrow. It’s important for me to say that Axel was not a foe – as some loose acquaintances believe. He also had never done me any wrongs, nor I had him, as some speculate. Axel and I were the closest of friends. There was never any animosity or struggle that was unsolvable. Axel was a beautiful person. I adored him greatly. His presence was always apricated and sought out.

But, still, at his very public funeral, I felt no pain. It, obviously, deeply lowered my spirits to see the amount of grief around me. The idea of Axel’s passing did heavily disturb me. I felt as though I was in a strange simulation. Regardless, of the circumstances, I believed that Mr. Axel Oyster was still alive. I did not – at all – believe he was dead.

It was only a week ago that he was at my house. He was very much alive that evening. Axel acted with a sense of youthful spirit, which I had not seen from him since University. That evening, I had just hosted a dinner party, which was usual in our society. I hosted one every Saturday. By this time, it was only him and I, for my partner had gone to bed. We were sitting in the living room dabbling in conversation.

“Lilith,” he started to me after a moment of silence, “what would you think of me if I told you I had a second life?” He spoke mischievously as if to play a silly little joke.

In turn, I responded, “Are you doing something ridiculous? You don’t have a second life.” It was natural for him to do this to me. He would try to get me to believe a falsity, only to later tense me about my naivety.

He grinned as if I had read him, “You know, me too well Lilith.”

“I know you have to fill your complacent life,” I started, as he was very successful, “with something, but find a new occupation. I beg you.”

“But why? It’s so enduring to see you puzzled!” he declared, and took a gulp of wine, “And as my life gets more boring and – as you say – complacent, my puzzles must get more complex.” He mocked as he took another sip of wine.

“Sure, sure,” I shrugged with a grin.

He smiled and raised his eyebrows, “You know I’ve always had your best interests,” he said in a weird tone, it was slightly serious but mostly mocking.

I attempted to combat his strange comedy by saying, “No you don‘t.”

Smiling he said, “All my like tomfooleries on you are for endearment sake. Lilith, I always reassure you.”

I shot him a look of sarcastic happiness, mixing with gratification. He did always reassure me. I knew he would stop if I ever told him to. For some reason, I never did. He proceeded to spy the large vase of marigolds I had in the hallway, only to make fun of my unhealthy obsession with the beautiful flower.

This conversation occurred exactly a week ago. Monday morning, I received a call from his mother explaining that he, Axel, had died in a freak shark accident, a few hours prior. Although Mrs. Oyster seemed deeply distressed as she held back sobs, I didn’t believe it. I even laughed after the call. He must have been making a prank of me. Axel F. Oyster was coaxing everyone. I wouldn’t be deceived. I was sure he’d arrive at my doorstep in a day or so, asking if I believed it all.

My partner, Orsay, tried to make me aware of the great possibility that dear Axel was dead. I told him he was crazy and just like the rest of the small-minded individuals, especially those creating social media pages filled with anecdotes of Axel’s life.

“Can’t you see it!” I yelled at him, “This is all a marvelous prank!”

Orsay got extremely frustrated with my apparent lack of compassion and common sense. He was so disturbed that he decided to live with his cousin for a few days. His reaction did make me pause for a moment to consider that maybe Axel was dead. It only made me upset. Why would I unnecessarily make myself upset? I took the time to wait for whatever would happen next. To my slight surprise, a few days later, I received an invitation to his funeral. It was getting a bit ridiculous in my opinion. Who in their right mind would put their mother through this agony? I considered perhaps that she was in on it. Yet, I was quickly disproven when she invited me to brunch, only to then have an extreme emotional breakdown. I did my best to try to reassure her, without giving out the notion that her distraught was unnecessary.

Then it was the day of the funeral. Orsay accompanied me, for he was greatly concerned for my mental stability, even though I reassured him multiple times that I was perfectly fine. I sat in this small, quaint church, in silence. I eagerly watched the crowd with deep skepticism. Family member after family member went up to the podium and spoke beautiful words about the supposed deceased. It was lovely to see how many people cared. If I didn’t think this was a terribly narcissistic jest, I would have shed many a tear and told many great stories about the man.

My turn to speak came. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? He was a strange man, who always tried to make me expose myself. After his siblings’ speeches, I went to the podium. My eyes fell on all of the distraught, tear-stained faces.

Fools. All of them were fools.

Their faces soon turned confused and shocked. I had said it out loud, into the microphone. I had called everyone fools. I imagined Axel watching in pure bewilderment. I shook my head.

“Yes,” I continued, “Yes, all of you are fools to think that Axel Oyster was killed, by a shark!” I was responded with a collection of gasps. Orsay tried to approach me, as he quickly came to my side.

“No,” I told him, “I need to do this.”

“No, you don’t. Stop this right now, you are making an embarrassment of yourself.” He insisted.

I ignored him and continued to address the crowd, “You all believe that Axel is dead. But I don’t, at all. Merely two days before his supposed death, he communicated with me the idea of a joke involving his faked death.”

Axel’s mother howled in agony and buried her head into her companion’s shoulder.

I shook my head and persevered, “And look there is even a closed casket!” I walked over to the head of the casket, and despite Orsay trying to prevent me from doing so, I threw it open. To our shook, it was empty, there was no corpus head looking up at me. My chest was filled with gratification. I looked up at the gasps and murmurs from the gathering, as everyone shuffled uncomfortably in their seats.

“You see!” I cried out, “Nothing!” Again, Orsay was trying to drag me away from the coffin.

Suddenly, the mother sprung up, shot her red, pain-filled eyes at me, and yelled, “You absolute disgraceful little bitch!” the crowd let out a large array of gasps, “How can you be so insensitive?” she paused a moment to swallow a sob, “Axel’s head -,” she couldn’t say anymore, as she broke down in a wave of tears.

Orsay looked around hopelessly and decided to continue Mrs. Oyster’s scolding, “Axel’s top half of his body was destroyed by the shark. Lilith, he is actually dead.”

Everything became very quiet. I looked back at all the stunned faces, who collectively wished never to see me again. Everyone’s eyes were still staring at me. Embarrassment and pain filled my entire body, as realized what I had done. My heart sunk to the floor and my throat seemed to stop functioning. If he was alive, he would have told me by now. Axel was actually dead. I had destroyed his send-off, the only sense of closure anyone would ever have. On top of it, I had destroyed myself.

“Leave!” His mother screamed at me when she saw me still standing there. Taking a moment to compute everything, I started to run out of the building, frantically. Orsay insisted on driving me home, as I deeply sobbed. Everything seemed to choke me. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t seem to stop sinking into a black hole. Ice seemed to form in my veins and a fire roared in my eyes. I was no longer in this world; I was dead inside. Why did I do that? I screamed at myself. The public humiliation I felt was too much. Tears swelled in my eyes. I wished that the world was quiet, and I was alone. I wished to be alone. I wished that everyone never knew I existed. I wished I was no one. If I was no one, no one would care about what I did. No one would have cared. I felt assumed and betrayed by myself. On top of it, I realized I had to confront the idea that Axel was in fact, dead.

When our car pulled into the driveway of our home, Orsay tried to comfort me. I couldn’t hear him over my own thoughts, as I relived the whole scenario over and over again. I mindlessly walked up to the front door. I nearly didn’t see it. Putting the key into the hole, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. It was a well-designed box. Upon further observation, it was an enormous box of bright marigold flowers shining up at me. I was so confused.

I paused and became very still. Orsay approached me to realize the existence of the box. I asked him if it was from him. He only slowly shook his head. My hands trembled as I observed the little note on the box. In his neat, cursive writing, it said, “I needed to do it. Sorry I couldn’t tell you. I should be ok now.”

I immediately looked out at the street, completely bewildered and frazzled. I was unsure how to feel. Perhaps, Axel Oyster was, after all, involved in a second life, of which I will never be aware of. Maybe, at this moment, I truly had lost Axel forever. My only wish was that he knew how much I loved him and that I hoped he’d come back. Until I saw him again, I wouldn’t stop searching for him, even if he didn’t want to be found.

© Lavinia Micheletti

July 28th 2021