The Wake

The moment Marcus Garfield stepped into the pub he felt the tension in the room change. He knew they were there before he saw them, huddled in and around a booth near the pool table. His eyes connected with the ones that belonged to his first love then skirted away and took in the aged faces of the rest of his former friends.

He stood by the door of The Celtic Heart and gave himself a moment to adjust to seeing them again. No one smiled at him. It wasn’t grief that kept them somber, if only it was that, grief was survivable, something they could recover from in time.

He stopped at the bar and ordered six pints of Guinness and when he reached them he didn’t bother with hello. Placing the tray on the table he lifted a glass and said “To Andrew, the best of us.”

Glasses clinked signifying the first time they had agreed on anything in twelve years. Too bad Andrew had to die to force this reunion. Self sacrificing until the bitter end.

Marcus had to admit he was surprised they all remembered the drunken promises they made over 15 years ago, after Andrew slurred out, “When I die, no listen to me, I’m serious! When I die you all come here and give me a proper Irish wake. ”

Marcus nodded, smiled and made inane barely sensible small talk, all the while wondering if anyone would dare bring up the reason they lost touch.

He shivered as her face came into his mind. Cassandra. She would have laughed and cried the loudest tonight. She hadn’t been just one of the group. She was the one they all revolved around, their sun, and the one whose death destroyed their friendships.

THE END of Part One.

By Sara

As the group manager of Brand New Aspiring Writers she strives to help fellow novelists and poets reach their dream of publication while at the same time pursuing her own. An American from the Midwest all her novels, and her real life, takes place in the suburbs surrounding Chicago, Illinois.