Josiah Marquez Part 3

Fuck! No one saw anything at that damn condominium. Dona Helena knew all the neighborhood gossip, but since she was at home with Júlia while Ana reached her breaking point and destroyed the sound system, she wasn’t watching the street... The houses on the corner didn’t have cameras; there was nothing to give us a clue about what actually happened to Bernardo. Only two people were there... Luana and Ana.
Isabela was at my house, judging me with a frown while I got drunk. It couldn’t have been her, because she only went outside after me.
I stared at Bernardo again, thinking about how he had died and taken the truth about everything with him...
He was gone...
And he was taking a piece of me with him. I was suffering because, deep in my dark heart, there was still a small spark of hope that liked to believe that... maybe... one day he would wake up.
I leaned closer to his ear, feeling a pain so intense in my chest that made me doubt whether I could keep living. I loved him so much... So, feeling it was time, I whispered my farewell:
“The happiest day of my childhood was when a chatty boy sat next to me in the classroom, staring at me with the bluest eyes I had ever seen. When a kid I thought was intrusive wasn’t afraid of my armor of a rebellious child and broke through my shields with his kindness. The happiest day of little Josiah was when a star decided to light up my chaos. You were my lantern, Ber. And I will love you forever, my friend. Now rest. Maybe, many years from now, we’ll meet again.”
I let go of his hand and placed a kiss on his forehead, feeling my lips chill from the contact with his lifeless skin, certain that he was no longer there. It was the last time I would see him, the last image of him that would be frozen in every cell of my body.
Fuck, it hurt so much...
It was devastating to lose someone I loved so much.
Someone good.
Someone who didn’t deserve to suffer, didn’t deserve that fate, a person who only brought light and smiles...
Someone with whom I shared all the good parts of me that still existed, who understood me and loved me back.
A true friend, who would turn into a lion to defend me, who took my pain upon himself.
Someone who was leaving too soon, who lived life intensely by my side, being the strongest man he could be, fearless, courageous, determined... Still, he had so much more to see, so much more to live, so much more to achieve. He never even had a love in his life, never felt his heart beat outside his chest for someone else.
Oh, Ber! Why did this happen to you, my friend? Why?
I held my heart, the pain, the way that farewell shattered it into thousands of pieces.
Thousands of fragments of moments with him spun in my head. Images of his blue eyes dancing and shining when he was praised for having the skill to provide food at our first army training camp, the way he made jokes and drew smiles from everyone around, his little dances, his sappy nicknames...
My best friend left and took a piece of my heart that would forever be buried with his body, a piece that would never be remade.
Suddenly, I understood Ana, her desperation and urge to end the pain that sometimes swept through her. Losing someone to death was like having a limb amputated, a fucking piece of the body forcibly removed. It was a feeling that weakened me, that made an excruciating pain take hold, that made me feel it would be impossible to continue living, that brought the doubt of whether it was possible to smile after that. It was as if all the colors of life faded, as if the seasons disappeared, and a sea of gray danced and buried me...
It was as if my blood had cooled so much it hurt.
And how could one be happy after all this? Is happiness even possible?
“God, can you give me something to ease the pain? Can you... soften the fall? God, can you... make me a stronger man than the shard of glass I feel like right now?” I whispered.
The truth was that mourning was a horrible pain, and I envied my wife’s strength. How could someone endure all those deaths and remain standing?
I wouldn’t stay to see the burial because it would be too painful. My chest bled as I looked around, searching for my Ana, but I ended up seeing Isabela running out in tears, her flowing black dress fluttering in the wind as she left, sobbing. I knew what she was feeling, I had an idea of the crushing pain that overwhelmed her, making her feel that living without a part of herself could be impossible.
I looked for my wife again, but she was no longer inside the chapel.
I just wanted to go home and see my daughter, that little being who gave me the immense feeling of completeness, who could ease the enormous hole in my heart, the child who could step onto a gray terrain and transform it entirely, flooding everything with the most beautiful and vibrant colors possible.
I walked out of the small wooden colonial chapel, passing among the grieving people around the body being mourned, and saw Leda sitting on a masonry bench near the entrance. She was mourning, lost in tears, with a wooden rosary in one hand and a white handkerchief over her long, bony nose. I placed my hand on her thin shoulder, letting a tear roll down my nose and fall as I murmured a “stay strong.”
When I got outside, Ana was talking to Harry, and my friend was telling her something that made her cry uncontrollably. I imagined he was comforting her about her sense of guilt or the fear of being blamed for what had happened.