In Memoriam #FictionFriday

For this week's Fiction Friday tale, I deviated from the list of prompts I have leftover from AtoZ. Yesterday I learned that an old friend had died 19 months ago. We'd been out of touch, but I had sent a message a year ago, never knowing he was already dead. This story is my memorial to him. 

“I can’t believe he’s gone.” I was standing in a very formal, stuffy room in the funeral home, looking around at a bunch of strangers. I hadn’t seen Marcus in about three years, so his death was surreal to me. Aubrey was the first person here that I recognized, and we drew together like magnets. 

“No, I know. He’s so young. Just 43.” We were both within a few years of that. 

“Really smacks you in the face, huh?” 

A man with slicked-back hair who was standing nearby heard my comment and turned. “It really does. So, how did you know Marcus?” I guessed they had worked together. 

“Theatre.” Aubrey and I said in unison. We had both been in plays with Marcus. I first saw him when he and I were in two different plays at the same theatre. He was rehearsing on one stage, and I caught part of his “Hamlet” as I passed through to the green room to prepare for Forum. He was really good. I’d stopped to watch him rehearse for as long as I dared. Super-talented. Thinking of the loss of his talent made me sad. 

“Ah, theatre. I hear that a lot about him,” said Slick-hair guy. “I saw him on stage once or twice. Guess I missed a big part of his life by not knowing more about that.” 

Another woman stepped over. She looked like I should know her. “He was a lot more than just theatre, though.” She shook the guy’s hand. “Good to see you Tom.” They hugged briefly as I tried to place her face. I gave up.

“Hi, you look really familiar to me…” I offered her my hand. 

“Danielle. Yeah, we met once, at one of his –"

“Oscar parties!” I suddenly placed her. Danielle and Marcus had dated for at least two years while I knew him. They seemed the perfect couple. I’d always wondered what happened that broke them up, but it wasn’t the place to ask. 

“Oh, man, Marcus’ Oscar parties. Those were the best,” Aubrey was grinning. 

I thought a moment, then realized, “I don’t think I’ve been to any other kind of party at his place.” 

Danielle smiled weakly. His death must have hit her hard. “Well, Oscar night was his favorite. He did it to the Nines.” 

Smiling, Tom asked, “How do you do that? What was the party like?” Everyone tried to answer first. For a moment we had a pretty animated conversation, for a funeral. 

“Themed foods – one dish for each ‘Best Picture’ nominee.” 

“He always had a costume contest – based on characters from movies of that year.” 

“Everyone got a printed ballot to fill out. I think there were prizes for most correct guesses.” 

“He loved prizes.” 

“Prizes for everyone!” We all fell silent and looked over at the coffin. No more prizes for Marcus. 

There was a detail nagging my brain for some reason. “Didn’t he always wear a tux for his Oscar party? I haven’t been to the last few.” 

“He did.” Danielle paused. “I’m really glad they’re burying him in his tux. It’s how he would want to be remembered.” 

“You know,” Aubrey looked around at the quiet room, muted voices, muted flowers, muted tears. “We should throw an ‘Oscar party’ for Marcus’ life. This –“ She waved her hand around. “This isn’t him.” 

“Good idea, but when? I’m in town for the day, and head home in the morning.” 

“Tonight then.” 

Tom was curious. “How would it be an ‘Oscar party’?” 

Danielle got into the game. She was smart, and I could see her mind working it out. “He was about movies and live theatre. We could easily do foods related to that –"

“Popcorn, soda –" 

“Wine and cocktails say ‘live theatre’. Oh! And pastries!” I could stop by my favorite bakery. 

Danielle thought of all the things we had listed earlier. “Costumes?” She looked around at us. I grimaced. 

“It’s an idea, but I mean, I know I wouldn’t be able to pull anything together from what I brought along for overnight.” 

Tom snapped his fingers. “Instead of actual costumes, I’ve got a ton of masks from an office Mardi Gras party. We could use those. To make it about Marcus, maybe we could all wear a nametag that says what our costume would be if we were some aspect of his life. Like one of you guys could be a play or some stage thing, I might say I’m his laptop, from work. Like that.” 

We all nodded at this compromise, as the party took shape. 

Marcus was laid to rest in St. Peter’s Cemetery that afternoon. 

That night we poured one out on his behalf at an Oscar-style party he would have enjoyed. Word spread fast and his spirit was surrounded by old and new friends from work and the theatre. 

Today is #FictionFriday at Doesn't Speak Klingon. Every Friday I will post a new story. You are invited to join me! I still have some un-used prompts given during the AtoZ Challenge, which I will offer here in case you choose to join in. If you choose to, for next week, I offer the prompt "Maple Syrup". Please come back next Friday and share a link to your story in the comments here. (Even if you don't use the prompt.) 

If you don't want to try writing flash fiction, I still welcome prompts in the comments!