FIERY FAREWELLS
“Death will curse the day he summoned Mimi.”
Hints of sadness threatened to breach a carefully constructed wall. Even on a cloudless sunny day like this, the sound of water lapping underneath the dock reminded me of the sloshing water in the sink as she scrubbed pots and pans. I’d miss how she’d get them started and then say, “I forgot I have cheap labor this summer,” as she set the Brillo pad in front of me.
Arms came up from behind, wrapping me in a hug tight enough to force a breath from my lungs. Black fingernails and neon pink hearts matched Amanda’s hair. I appreciated her support, even if she only showed up for the free alcohol. Mimi wouldn’t have had it any other way.
“You should say something,” she whispered in my ear.
I should.
Instead of speaking, I stared down at my feet and thewooden planks of the dock. A nail had wiggled free as the board warped. As I worked my way up, the water of the lake rippled with tiny waves. The wind had picked up, blowing my hair about, but most of all, taking the raft away from shore. The badly constructed timbers of wood tied together with old rope weren’t fit for a person, at least not a living one.
“Thank you for coming,” I said.
“We loved Mimi,” Jason said.
Unlike the funeral, I only invited five people to this private ceremony. That had been a solemn affair as people paid their respects. My sister Evie and I smiled and nodded as each person gave their condolences. Mimi would have hated every moment. “If you can’t say it when I’m listening, why say it at all?” She’d have hated the formalities and the grieving women from the quilting guild. That day had been for the living; today, we gathered for Mimi.
“I don’t quite know what to say.”
Abraham shuffled forward until he stood at my side. “I knew your grandmother since we were kids. There has never been a woman with more spunk. That’s where you get it from.” He gave me a nudge with his elbow. “She’d want you to speak from the heart. You can’t go wrong when you speak your truth.”
Speak my truth. I could hear her repeating his words. The raft had moved a couple hundred feet away. If she had her way, it wouldn’t be a photo and some keepsakes on our makeshift longship. We’d have placed her body atop the pyre, sending her on her next adventure.
“Every summer, my parents sent me to stay with Mimi. I hated it.” I still remember throwing tantrums in protest. It always ended with Dad throwing me over his shoulder and putting me in the backseat of their gray sedan. “Sorry, Firefly natives, but your town is boring as hell. I don’t quite know when it happened, but something changed my point of view. The town might be boring… again, I’m sorry, but she made every second exciting.”
Amanda squeezed me. I glanced over my shoulder to see Laurel holding her brother. The Wrights had lived next door to Mimi for as long as I could remember. When Pops passed, they quickly filled his shoes, helping her around the house. She didn’t need Bobby to change lightbulbs, but every visit came with a lengthy conversation over a pot of coffee. I think they’ll miss her on the porch doing her cross-stitching or her insistence on mowing the lawn at night during the summers.
“Mimi used to tell me stories about her parents. They moved to Canada before coming to Firefly. I’d tease her about being Canadian, and she’d give me that glare only she could muster.”
“I have goosebumps thinking about it,” Amanda said.
“She’d say, ‘I might have been born a Canadian, but I’ll always be a Viking.’ For the longest time, I thought she had been joking. But, so help me God, she’d see this as her next adventure. I bet she’s reached Valhalla by now, and she’s trading tales of her younger years. Mimi wouldn’t want us standing around, being sad. She’d want us to carry on that warrior spirit.”
“Preach,” Jason said.
“Ready?” Amanda asked.
I turned around to a smoking coffee can on the dock. Laurel picked up her bow and handed it to me. Wrapping my fingers around the grip, I could barely remember learning to use one during my hunter’s safety class in high school. Mr. Oakes had insisted I shouldn’t be allowed to use arrows with suction cups on the end. I’d show him.
Bobby handed me an arrow. The white cloth at the end had been doused in kerosene. I notched the arrow and waved the tip over the coffee can. It took a moment before it burst into flame. I chuckled at the ridiculousness. If Mimi hadn’t specifically requested a Viking funeral, we’d be at her house trading tales. Instead, I had to show off my marksmanship… or lack thereof.
“May you cross the Bifrost unhindered.”
I drew the arrow. The string on the bow pulled back as I squinted through my right eye. I only needed to hit the side, and it’d burst into a series of colorful flames. It’d burn and sink to the bottom of the lake. Staring through the sight, I let go. The bowstring smacked against my forearm, and I let out an audible yelp, dropping the bow. The arrow hit the water midway to the canoe as I hopped around, gripping my arm, hissing loudly. Damn, Mr. Oakes.
“It’s too far away. We should have?—”
“Give me that.”
Laurel pulled the bow out of my hand. She didn’t play games when it came to archery. The town still told stories about the time she took down a bear. Though, the way thelittle old ladies talked, she had single-handedly defended Maine from the Canadian invasion.
She shoved an arrow into the coffee can. When the tip caught fire, she drew back the bow and never bothered to look through the sight. Grunting, she steadied herself, taking aim. With a loud twang, the arrow soared. It struck against a piece of driftwood, and a second later, we watched as a flame consumed the raft, erupting into a series of colorful flames.
“That’s how you send off a woman like your gram,” Laurel said.
“Show off,” I mumbled.
