The end of September, on the towns burial ground, a mournful procession shuffled behind a coffin. I, Victor, kept my head bowed. I stumbled along, eyes glued to the ground, still unable to grasp what had happened to my life. My thoughts were a blank; I felt as if the very part of me that was alive had been laid to rest inside that box.
Eighteen years earlier, in the schoolyard of our local academy, I and my future mate Evan got into a scrap during break. Dust kicked up, uniforms were smeared with mud, and a crowd of boys roared for their favourite fighter.
Come on, Evan! shouted a few. Give it to him!
Give it some welly, Victor! yelled the others.
Neither of us gave up. In a sudden move, Evan clamped his hand around my ear and I let out a yell, clutching the painful spot before the bell rang. Blood trickled down my cheek. The lesson began.
From that day we were inseparable. I turned out to be a topstudent, always the first hand up in class. Evan, on the other hand, was a middling pupil, always restless, the teachers pet peeve. For ten years we shared a bench, discovering a common love for football, comics and cheap fizzy drinks.
Around the same time we both fell for Emily, a slender blonde in the parallel form. Her eyes were a clear blue, like a summer lake. She danced in the schools ballet troupe, and we each hoped shed choose us. Emily never rushed her decision, treating us both equally. The years of school passed, the leavingcertificates were handed out, and we each went our own way.
I dreamed of a university education, but the competition was fierce, and my family could only scrape together a few pounds each month. A paid place was out of reach, so I enrolled in a technical college instead. Evan came from a comfortable background; his parents could afford anything, yet he shunned academic study. He took up an apprenticeship at a local garage, a decision that later proved both shrewd and profitable.
Emily, not keen on further study, joined a touring dance company abroad to earn a living. Such a chance comes only once, and she took the risk.
Even though we all scattered across the country, we kept in touch. Phone calls were frequent, and we knew each others lives by heart. Victor and Evan met most often, hanging out in cafés, the occasional pub, or a club after work. Evan always seemed ready to tempt me into some new adventure. Life felt electric.
After college, I started work at a manufacturing plant while studying parttime via distance learning. Evan, after gaining experience at the garage, used his parents backing to open his own motor workshop. Within three years he owned a solid car and was a respectable businessman.
Emilys fiveyear contract overseas ended, and she returned home. We arranged a reunion, each of us nervous about who she might favour. We sat at a table in a small local bar, waiting for her. My heart hammered.
Evan, look, I whispered, tugging at the collar of my shirt, Does it look alright?
Itll be fine, mate, he replied coolly, as if it didnt matter, Take a deep breath, have a pint for courage.
Emilys voice floated over us, bright as ever. Goodness, you lads look dapper!
Hello, Emily! Evan said, pulling out her chair and bowing politely.
Hi! I managed, my tongue stuck for the whole evening.
We reminisced about school. Evan spent the night dancing with Emily, while I sat there, stewing. What are my chances? I told myself. Evans a serious rival. I live with my parents, barely any cash. Hes got his workshop and a fancy caralways money in the bank.
That evening, as we used to escort a lady home when we were kids, I finally gathered the courage to propose. I stood at her doorstep, rehearsing my words, and rang the bell. To my amazement she said yes.
Are you really sure, Emily? I asked, halfin disbelief. Is this a joke?
Yes, yes, yes! she exclaimed, planting a kiss on my cheek. Im yours.
Later, I told Evan, What did she see in me? I have nothing to offer. I still cant believe my luck. Such a beauty I took the plunge, and nowwill you be my best man?
Of course, he said, pausing before confessing, I tried to ask her too.
I looked at him, puzzled. But she turned me down.
Evan smiled sadly. Im a bit of a player, not what she wanted. Youre the steady one, the hardworking lad. Thats why she chose you. We laughed, clapped each other on the back and chatted on about trivial things.
Our wedding was a boisterous affair. Emily and I moved into a new flat she bought with the money shed saved overseas. I felt a little out of my depth, but she teased me, Dont worry, love. Breakfast in bed tomorrow, all sorted. She proved a sensible, practical wife, opening her own dance studio, doing what she loved and bringing in a decent income. Our married life settled into a comfortable rhythm.
Evan never stayed on the sidelines. He became a close family friend, sometimes making me feel a twinge of jealousy when Emily involved him in plans. He never refused to helpwhether driving her to the market, picking her up from work in bad weather, or whisking her to the hospital when she twisted an ankle during rehearsal. He was always there, a sort of guardian angel.
Neighbours began to whisper that I was a fool for letting my wife lean on Evan, but Emily brushed it off with a laugh, Victor, stop worrying. What would we do without him?
One autumn afternoon, a knock sounded at our door.
Victor, its me, a familiar deep voice said, Its your uncle, Edward.
I stood up, Good afternoon, Mr. Edward! Its been ages. How are you?
Evans gone! the voice barked, flat and heavy. He was in a crash yesterday Hes gone.
How? I managed to ask before the words choked me. My throat tightened, a lump forming, as grief slammed into me. The best friend Id ever known was gone. Sweat dripped down my temples, the world around me hazy.
Emily, eight months pregnant, sat beside me, her hand on my arm, and explained the details, giving me the date of the funeral. The loss hit harder than I could have imaginedjust the day before, Id felt on top of the world, and now the ground had vanished beneath my feet.
Emily stayed home for the rest of the pregnancy, and I went alone to the graveside. After the service, when everyone had left, I lingered by his headstone, unable to move. I stared at his smiling portrait on the tombstone, fists clenched.
Evan, my friend, I whispered, eyes brimming, Thank God you came into my life. Those years of friendship mean everything. Ill never forget you.
I recalled our childish pranks, the schoolyard fights, the laughter. I felt a desperate urge, Evan, you know Emilys about to give birth. If theres any spirit left, let your soul return with the new baby, please. I miss you so much.
A year passed. Our son, ten months old, now lay in his cot. We named him Evan after my dear friend. The little lad looks just like himsame cheekbones, the same impish sparkle in his eye, even a tiny birthmark on his forearm where Evans had been. It comforts me to see his likeness, though I cant be sure its truly his spirit. I keep pleading, Evan, let us know its really you! You were always the clever one. I need you.
Suddenly, the infant let out a shriek, clutching his earjust as Evan had once bitten mine. I bent over, Is that you? I asked, halflaughing, halfcrying. The baby scrunched his nose and giggled, as if answering, Yes, its me.
