Chapter 38 Bardy
BARDY
We that are young
Shall never see so much nor live so long.
He sees a face. Passenger. Ash white. A boy.
Bardy cannot shake the image. Sleeping or waking.
He had bumped into Jack in the street, and he had hugged him close.
A surrogate son. The absence of Tom and Ned piercing him.
He has spoken to them both. Ended up telling them not to drive too fast. Make sure their cars’ brakes were checked.
They had ridden the wave of his anxiety like the surfers they are, and at the end, when he told them once again to be careful, Ned said, “It’s cool, Dad, Mom rang us. ”
Hana has been there for him, and for Tay, who was shaken more than she would admit. She has cooked for them both, watching him as he walked around in a daze. So tired. God, he has spent hours by Lou’s bedside. What does he think is going to happen? If he takes a day off, will his friend die too?
Jack had talked about how Satya and he had gathered up the boys, hugging them close. There was no doubt they had been upset. The whole town is. Bardy had asked how he and Satya were. Jack had given a helpless shrug.
So, Bardy walks around, thinking about love, family, and balance. But he doesn’t reach any conclusion. Or not one that will help him. Just thinks of a boy’s face.
Ash white.
He remembers him working as a cashier at the local co-op—straight-faced, asking Mr. Shakespeare for ID when he bought beer. He’d done okay in his GCSEs. Thought he might like to try for an apprenticeship somewhere.
You’d think he’d be used to it by now. He isn’t the first youngster Bardy has known to die. It’s seeing the shock on his friends’ faces. The look on his brother’s face. You just don’t expect life to end when you are that young. You think you can live forever.
And what can you say? Not a lot. But better to turn up clutching the wrong words than turn away from the bereaved like somehow it’s their fault.
Bardy pushes open the garden gate and walks up the path that leads to Finn’s apartment.