The Longest Night

Michael’s father stood and left without looking her in the eye. She understood. She would have done the same.

She lay on her back in bed, straining her eyes to study the ceiling in the dark. A water stain browned the corner, faded in layers as it spread towards the centre of her room. It was darkest in the middle, and farther out it became larger and lighter. That was how pain worked, she thought: intense and sharp from the start, but more diluted yet widespread with time. Always there, though. Something that could never be removed.

There was another knock on her door.

She looked up and stared at the door, letting silence answer it for her.

“Catherine?” It was Reid.

She rose from her bed and opened the door. She could barely see his silhouette.

He was quiet, like he hadn’t quite worked out what he would say before this point. “I’m sorry to bother you so late. We thought you might want to know – we’re having a funeral for Jeffries.”

Her eyes fluttered shut and she breathed deeply. “When?”

“Right now. Out past the courtyard. I can bring you.”

She nodded, more to herself than him. All right.

She felt her way to her shoes and her coat. When she stepped out of her door Reid took her hand and put it on his shoulder, leading her away. He was tall; she had to reach far. At first it felt invasive to hold on but to let go was to lose her way. Soon they fell into step, an ataractic rhythm. It was okay this way.

He opened the storm door at the end of the darkened hallway. Cold air, silent and still, took her in and held her. The lamppost guided them across the grounds towards the trees opposite. It must have been left on specifically for this. For them. For him.

They rounded the livestock house and carefully navigated a narrow path. Not far in was a clearing. By the distant light a few yards behind them, she could make out the face of Doctor Anderson and two men and a woman she did not recognize. They all nodded to Reid and Catherine, and Reid nodded back. Catherine, however, was elsewhere.

He was lying on her blanket on the pyre. They kept him in the things he died in. The body was starting to go. The skin was different, stretched somehow. Sleeping but absent of life.

She saw them look at her and look away quickly. Yes, it was strange. She can’t have known him long. Why was she this way?

“Jeffries was a good friend of mine, a great scientist, and a noble man,” Doctor Anderson said in a wavering voice after a long, drawn out silence. “All of us were moved by him. None of us will ever forget him.”

“I remember the first time I met him,” the woman said. Jordan’s voice. “He seemed so withdrawn, so hard on the outside. But after I got to know him, I realized that he was a very cautious character, that he had so much good in him, and he was only careful of who he showed it to.”.

“I think he was important to everyone he ever met,” Reid said. “I can think of few people I can claim to have had an influence on me, but he was one of them. When I think of great friends, I will always remember Jeffries.”

“We will miss you,” one of the others said. He covered his mouth and the man next to him put an arm around his shoulders.

She wanted to say something in case she regretted her silence forever but nothing came. Doctor Anderson was looking at her expectantly. “Does anyone want to say any other words?” he said.

She felt each second of silence.

Hesitantly, Doctor Anderson reached into his long coat pocket and pulled out a long lighter.

Not yet.

She was moving without really meaning to. The pyre was nearly chest high on her. She ran her hands over its rough edge, peering into his face. Their story was long but could be told in a single look. Words were never part of it. She leaned down and rested her head on his chest, gripping the collar of his coat.

Faint pine. An old leather glove. The book. Two people looking at each other across a platform.

I’ll always remember.

She let his collar go and walked away. There was a direct line between everyone else and the clearing’s edge. It was there she chose to wait.

She heard the lighter catch, saw the sparks turn to flames. No one moved or made a sound. The larger the fire grew, the more tears were freely shed. His death would affect them for years to come. And then she knew.

They stayed to watch the fire, keep it contained. It was hard to say how long it lasted, but the sky had taken a dark blue hue when it began to subside. The two strangers were the first to walk away. Jordan touched Doctor Anderson’s back lightly, and he looked over his shoulder at her, nodding solemnly. They left together in step.

Reid stood a little ahead of Catherine, watching the fire slowly come to rest. When it was only embers left he turned to leave. At her side he sopped, two mourners facing opposite ways. He touched her shoulder with a faint squeeze. Words were unnecessary. Then he left.

The sun spilled through the branches of the evergreens. She looked to the light. The fire was gone, and so was he. Nothing left for her here. Beyond was something to see.

On the other side of the trees was a slight slope overlooking the frozen lake. The sun moulded into the tops of the distant trees. The sky was lined with faint clouds, gentle brushstrokes of gold, red, purple, blue. The night sky was on the other side. It wasn’t a war, but a balance. How beautiful it was to see it.

She breathed deep and let it go. They were trying to survive. She survived. She was surviving.