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He looks peaceful.
That was Conrad’s first thought as he approached the casket, trembling, the green dinosaur tucked under his arm. David almost looked too peaceful. He’d never been this still or calm in life. His hands that used to fidget and clutch his dinosaur for safety and twist the Rubik’s cube were now folded on his chest.
And his face had never looked so calm. He’d always been so tense, his eyebrows pinched with worry and guilt and God knows what else.
The morticians had done a good job. David’s face was relaxed, his eyes closed, his mouth a neutral line. His skin was clean and clear, maybe a little waxy but free of any bruises or cuts. Conrad had no clue how the morticians had done it. The last time he’d seen David’s body, when he’d been called in to identify it, David had been so messed up Conrad was sure he’d need a closed casket.
Conrad flinched at the memory of David’s body on that metal table. The bruising all over his face and arms. The discoloration. The swelling. The long gashes across his forehead where the current had tossed him into sharp rocks. Conrad had expected the morticians to clean David up a little, but he hadn’t expected this. David looked like himself again, like a human being who possibly could’ve just been asleep. Conrad wouldn’t have been able to tell how violent David’s death had been if he didn’t already know.
Conrad’s mouth went dry. He hadn’t been prepared for this. It almost felt cruel, like they’d managed to bring him back to life most of the way but couldn’t complete the process.
David’s hair was dry and neatly styled, not the wet, tangled mess Conrad had seen before. It was still dark brown from the dye. That felt wrong. He was going to be remembered this way, so he should look like himself.
Conrad imagined the dye fading over time, David’s hair returning to its natural blond. But there would be nobody to see it. Just a closed wooden lid under feet of dirt.
Conrad fought the urge to reach out and run his hand through David’s hair. He didn’t want to mess up the morticians’ work. And even now, breaking the boundary David had set felt unthinkable.
David looked so young, younger than he had when he was alive. But older than Conrad remembered. In his mind’s eye, David was still eight years old, with missing baby teeth and a round, boyish face, before the sharp angles of puberty. David had grown up behind a door, and Conrad had missed it. He’d just started to become accustomed to David’s new face, and now it was going to be taken from him forever and lowered into the ground.
His gaze landed on the suit the morticians had put David in. That also felt wrong. David had never worn a damn suit in his life. No sixteen-year-old should have to unless they were going to prom or something. Something David had never gotten to do, and now never would.
The suit was slightly too big. Conrad hadn’t been able to give them David’s size, since he didn’t know. Della would have.
Conrad’s heart clenched. He gripped the edge of the casket, one arm still holding the dinosaur.
“How could you?” he whispered. “We already lost your mother.” Now he was alone. “Did you even think about me?” His voice trembled. “You did, didn’t you? Knowing you, you thought I’d be better off or something like that. But I’m not, David. Of course I’m not!” He balled his fist to keep himself from smacking the side of the casket.
The worst part was, he couldn’t even blame David. He knew why his son had done it: because Conrad had driven him away and made him feel broken and unloved.
Tears welled up in Conrad’s eyes, and he didn’t even try to blink them away. “I’m sorry, David. All I wanted was for you to live. But instead, I drove you to…”
He couldn’t finish.
He looked at the dinosaur. It smiled stupidly up at him, oblivious. Conrad could still see little David holding it, hiding behind it like it could protect him from the world. Conrad almost wanted to keep it, since it was a reminder of David as he used to be. But he felt like he owed it to David to leave him with the thing that had always brought him comfort.
He hadn’t taken the time to comfort David in life. Maybe if he had…
Conrad lowered the dinosaur into the casket the way he used to lower it into David’s crib when he was a baby. He tucked it into David’s arms and waited like David would stir or say “thank you.” Of course, he didn’t move.
Conrad reached for David’s arm, then stopped. He still couldn’t do it, even knowing this was his last chance before David was buried. The chainsaw burned in the back of his mind—the last time he’d touched David without consent.
He would have done anything to take it back. And he wasn’t going to ever touch David again, even like this.
His hand hovered awkwardly for a moment before resting next to David, sinking into the soft lining of the casket.
“I love you,” Conrad said quietly. “I always did.” The tears spilled out. “Always. Oh, David, I wish you’d known. I wish I’d tried harder, done better, listened more. I wish…” His voice broke. “I wish you were still here.”
He looked at David one last time. At least his son wasn’t suffering anymore. His life had been so miserable, and now he could finally just rest. That thought brought Conrad some solace.
He turned away before this comfort could turn back into grief. Best leave now, on a relatively high note.
He left the viewing room, back to the crowds of people who had never really known David but had come to pay their respects anyway. Conrad and Della’s old friends who used to say David made them uncomfortable with his quiet stare and refusal to be touched. Coworkers who had never met him. Acquaintances who hadn’t even known David existed until the funeral.
The air felt too thin. Conrad turned abruptly and left the church altogether. He needed a break from all of this before he screamed.
Night was falling, and the stars were quietly twinkling to life. Conrad stared up at them. He’d never been into space stuff, but Della used to tell him that David was.
He wondered if somewhere, David was looking at the same stars. Surely heaven had a view of the stars. Conrad didn’t really believe in an afterlife—he was far too logical for that—but now he had to. Because the thought of David just being gone was unbearable.
“Hey, buddy,” he whispered up to the sky. “I don’t know if you can hear me. But I just wanted to say I’m sorry. And I love you.”
It was probably just haze, but Conrad swore one of the stars winked, flickering out for just a second before shining more brightly than ever. He wanted to think it was David sending a sign. An acknowledgment at least, even if it probably wasn’t “I love you too” or “I forgive you.”
He could live with acknowledgment. Anything meaning that David could still be around. That maybe Conrad would see him again someday.
He turned and went back inside.