Pearl River Community College's award winning literary magazine

Special Edition—Spring-Summer 1998

Short Story Section

by Reyna Odom

If I could do it all again I would. If I could go back to that night, just to whisper a silent good-bye into his brown eyes, I would be there.

He was my friend for so long. He taught me to drive a standard, gave me lunch money all the time, and listened to any problem I had. He loved me unconditionally. I remember my party, shortly after I turned seventeen. "It's you, Reyna," he said. "It's you I've fallen for." Of course, I only liked him as a friend and eventually he accepted that. He was one of my best friends, one of my boys. Jess, Louis, Terry, and he; they were my four fellow trombone players in the band. I loved them all and I especially loved him.

He was so stubborn too. We kicked him out of our house one afternoon last fall. There he was, in a Catholic household, talking to three Catholics, speaking ill of the Catholic religion. Everything was fine in a day or two though. That's how our fights always went.

We saw him that night. Shawna too. They were the cutest couple. It was Homecoming and the spirit filled the air. I fondly remembered my senior Homecoming the year before and smiled. It was all such a happy occasion.

During the halftime show I saw him on the field from the stands, but we never spoke. Jess and I pointed him out on the field.

"Where is he?" Jess asked.

"There-5th back on the thirty. You can't miss that goof."

"No, you can't."

"He's still dating Shawna," I mentioned.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." I looked across the football field at the two marching side by side. "He treats her like an angel."

The next morning I woke up early. I was to march in the big game later that day and was simply enjoying the early morning hours. I sat in the kitchen, talking to my father while he cooked bacon and eggs when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Teresa? No...Sara?"

"This is Reyna."

"Reyna...this is Martha...did you hear about Wesley?"

"Wesley who?" I asked, thinking of my younger brother Wesley still asleep in his bed.

"Wesley Norman."

"No, what's up?"

My Tia Martha sighed. "He was killed last night in a wreck."

"NO," I think. "Wesley? I am dreaming, I know I am."

"Reyna, get your mother," the phone said." Don't tell your sister."

"Don't tell my sister?" My mind was in a tither.

"Reyna, what's going on?" My father asked.

I calmly went to my mother's room and said "Mom, Martha's on the phone." Then I began the pacing.

I paced back and forth across the house, from my mother's room to the kitchen and back again. I could hear the shock in my mother's voice, then my father's as they received the horrible news. My mind truly went blank until my mother came from her room.

"Reyna?...Reyna, are you okay?"

I nodded as she knocked on the door to my sister's room.

Sara and her friend Tonia were asleep in the bed. Both juniors, the two were close friends with Wesley. Sara even went to his junior prom with him, a set-up I arranged myself.

My mother sat on the edge of the bed and said, "Sara, Tonia, wake up. I have something to tell you."

"Mmmmph." Sara replied.

"Sara!" I shouted. "Wake up! You need to be awake to hear this." Then I stood in the doorway, waiting.

"You know Wesley Norman."

"Of course," Sara answered.

"Well...he...he and his date were killed last night on the way home from the dance."

Sara gasped and brought her hand to her mouth.

"His date too!" I cried. Oh, Shawna, not Shawna too. My knees went weak and one thought crossed my mind--Jess, I must talk to Jess. I called him and got little answers.

"Jess, what happened?"

"I don't know, Baby. I don't know..."

As the day wore on, details of the wreck slowly surfaced from different sources. Wesley was driving, his window defroster did not work, there was a curve and boom-he hit a tree head on. No breaks, nothing. Of all the days I've lived, there was never a longer day than that one. Through the game, through the evening, through the night--I just wanted it all to end. Sunday was the same, as was Monday.

At 5:00 Monday evening I rode with Molly to Hulett-Winstead Funeral Home for the most devastating event of my life-the double wake of Shawna Stevens and Wesley Norman. Shawna, a cute, happy sophomore smiled up from photos, while Wesley, my boy, slept for all to view. Wesley, 17 and stubborn, lay silent in his open coffin, never again to argue with me.

On the way to the funeral the next day Jess asked me, "Remember BEAF?"

"Of course, I remember BEAF. The warm-up scales. It was the `Ultimate Trombone Phrase."

"It was fun to do that. Wesley always had a weird BEAF. He usually did the"

"Herman Huh!" I cried suddenly, remembering. "I could never do any of those noises. My voice is too high."

As we approached the cemetery, I had to squint, for the setting sun shone bright over the headstones. My eyes were also dry due to the many tears I had shed that day. I made it through the final service, and as Jess and I made our way to the coffin for our final good-byes, I really thought I'd be okay.

If I could do it all again, I think I would go back to that night, the night a truck left the road for some unknown reason and two young lives ended. I would tell him how special he was to me and to everyone. If I could say, "Aw, Wesley, you know I luuuv you!" and have him respond, I would be so happy. Yet, I can't.

"Good-bye Buddy." Jess said. He touched the coffin gently. Behind me Wesley's younger sister was saying, "I don't want to leave. I don't want to leave him here." A knot formed in my throat and I closed my eyes. When I opened them, Jess was smiling.

"What?" I asked.

"There's gonna be much BEAF in heaven."

I looked him in the eye to see if he was serious. His lightning blue eyes shone back. The knot in my throat choked me as I leaned forward. I put my head on his chest and said, "Yes, much BEAF."