I needed a place to stay. I’d been having problems with my girlfriend, and now I had to move out. Rachel, my best friend, told me she had a spot available in her make-shift garage, which was behind her small brick bungalow, where she lived with her Mom and sister, and the house had three bedrooms, which they all occupied. I was grateful and relieved when I walked into the garage, setting my backpack and suitcase down on the chipped gray floor. Rachel had a big goofy smile on her face and her eyes were glazed, colored red. She wore a fraying denim jacket and black leggings, and Birkenstocks with a missing toe strap. Her hair was chestnut brown with an orange streak dangling over her pointy nose. She turned on the ceiling fan the garage started getting cooler; it was summertime in August, and it was at least 89 degrees outside. I was about to flop down on the red leather couch when Rachel opened a door to the next room. I followed her inside. There was a coffin.
It was made from thick solid mahogany and measured out to six feet long, three feet wide, with a golden veneer curving around the wood. A foam cushion laid flat inside looking more comfortable than a Tempur-Pedic mattress. She climbed into it, slipping off her sneakers, and casting them aside to the hardwood floor. She told me that sleeping in there was good for her back. I nodded and wondered if I should smile to reassure her, but then decided just to listen. I ran my fingers along the left-side of the coffin, feeling the rigid and smooth frame that made me feel uneasy at how perfectly constructed it seemed to be, for something so haunting. I wondered if Rachel was a vampire, but that seemed stupid, because vampires didn’t exist. Rachel put her hands behind her head and crossed her legs. Her elbows barely touched the sides of the coffin. Her feet didn’t stick out.
“It’s comfy,” she said, “Wanna try it?” she asked.
I shook my head and said, “I’m good.”
Rachel laughed. My feelings were hurt. She must have thought I was afraid. And to be honest, I was afraid. She sat up straight, swinging her legs over the edge of the coffin, and got back to the floor.
“Don’t be a wimp, Dale,” she said.
“You got me figured out. I’m straight terrified. But seriously it does look comfy,” I said, looking around the room. It had two windows, one was open half-way, the other was closed. The wind crept inside, slowly, and carefully, soothing my body.
We were friends from Virginia Tech, a college in Blacksburg, and both of us had shared the same major in Advertising. We’d hooked up once on a drunken night off campus in a townhouse on Main Street, but the next morning we’d both decided to just be friends, since there wasn’t any romantic chemistry. Still, I wondered what would have happened if we’d gone on a first date. Would that have changed things? Did it really matter in the long-term? I didn’t know.
I looked back at the coffin and wondered if I could sleep in it without getting frightened. I walked around the coffin and examined its impassive lid, noticing the rust on the hinges. How long had Rachel been using this coffin? “So, how’d you end up with this?” I asked.
She pulled up a chair and sat, lighting up a joint. Rachel said, “My father used to be a mortician at Arlington Cemetery. He worked every day. Sometimes he’d stay at the funeral home on the weekends to sweep up the grounds. And then one day he was walking in Alexandria next to a new apartment building. A desktop computer dropped from one of the apartment windows and smashed into his skull. He died in the ambulance. Mom wanted him to be buried in a coffin, so we bought one, which is the one sitting here in my room. But eventually, he was cremated, because we wanted to keep him close to home, even if he wasn’t alive anymore. We just ended up keeping the coffin, sort of like as a memento. I know it’s strange to have it here, here in my room, but it’s weirdly consoling. It’s a reminder to me about how finite life is. How it can be taken away from you at any moment.”
“Dude I’m so sorry that happened. My condolences,” I said reaching over to touch her shoulder. She flinched and stubbed out the joint in the ashtray on her nightstand.
“I’m sorry. I know that was a lot of information, but I needed to vent. And besides you asked the question,” Rachel said.
We smoked her joint and watched cartoons on the TV, and in that moment, I thought things were going well. Rachel put her arm around me and passed the joint, smoke trailing out of her mouth. She tapped my shoulder and gave me a fist-bump. She hugged me like a little kid and then she began to sob out loud. Her whole body started shaking and she started to moan a guttural sound. I hugged her and patted her on the back, telling her everything’s going to be all right. “I wish my Dad were still here,” she said. I gave Rachel a box of tissues and she blew her nose into the Kleenex.
“I know. I can’t imagine,” I said.
When she stopped crying, Rachel checked her phone and saw a text msg from her Mom, asking us if we wanted lunch.
We sat at a circular wooden table in the dining room. There were tuna melts, sweet potato fries, and fresh squeezed iced tea in a glass pitcher. Rachel and I sat next to each other. Her Mom and Vivian sat across from us, both looking annoyed. I took a big bite from my tuna melt and washed it down with iced tea. I was famished and tired, so I really appreciated the food Rachel’s Mom had made. I wondered how long I was going to stay. I didn’t really have a plan.
“So…Dale. Do you have a job lined up?” Rachel’s Mom asked.
I stopped stuffing sweet potato fries into my mouth.
I cleared my throat and said, “Yes, Mrs. Mai. I’m working for Uber Eats. I do a few hours a day, and just use my car to drop off deliveries. It’s good money.”
Her Mom brightened up and sat straighter in her seat. She said, “Great. That’s just great. Rachel doesn’t work right now. Glad to know someone is making some money.”
“Thanks Mom,” Rachel said.
Vivian folded her arms over her chest and said, “How long you staying for, Dale? Everything okay?”
I nodded and put my hand over mouth and lightly burped. I grunted and said, “Just a few days if that’s fine. And yeah, everything is mostly okay.”
“Mostly?” Vivian said, before she took a bite out of her tuna melt. She looked at her Mom and then she looked at me and laughed in my face. “Sure. Well, I hope you’re being upfront with us.”
Rachel took a sip from her sweet tea and set it on the table. She said, “There’s nothing to worry about Vivian. Chill out.”
“I’m just asking her a simple question. Don’t tell me to chill. You need to chip in for rent too, Rachel,” Vivian said, glaring at Rachel. Her Mom popped a sweet potato fry into her mouth and sighed. The sunlight stopped filtering into the windows, and shadows began to spread throughout the room. A chime played in the background from the neighbor’s house. The air smelled like grease and gas. I wiped the crumbs off my mouth and whistled. I looked away, stared out the window and felt my head growing dizzy. There was a plane flying overhead, the sound of the engine piercing the sky like a sonic boom. Then an ambulance wailed. A dog began barking. I really shouldn’t have gotten so high. When I was this smacked, I started to have sensory overload. And it was happening right now, in real time.
Rachel’s Mom stood up from the table and her chair scraped against the hardwood floor.
Vivian groaned and balled her napkin into a ball and tossed it on the China plate. She pulled a heavy hit from her purple colored vape and blew smoke into Rachel’s face. Rachel started coughing and threw a sweet potato fry at Vivian’s face. Vivian ducked and the fry sailed out of the window. I watched as they fought and didn’t interfere; just sipped on my sweet tea until there was nothing left in my cup.
Rachel and I left the house and went for a walk around the neighborhood. It was way too humid outside and I had a sweat running down the back of my neck. I was on my phone looking up customers to deliver Uber Eats. Rachel yawned and raised her arms and stretched. “I think I need a nap soon. How you feeling Dale?” she said.
“I’m good,” I said, “At least I think I’m good.” I cracked my neck.
“That’s good,” Rachel said, stepping onto a forest trail. She lit a cig and let the smoke curl up out her lips. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander. There was a lot going on in the world, all the time. Felt like everything was burning to the ground, with no hopes of it being put out. Climate change. Artificial Intelligence. Palestine Vs. Israel. Aliens in outer space.
“You okay man?” Rachel asked.
I looked back. The smoke spread around me like fog.
We sat on a couch in the garage watching conspiracy documentaries on TV. I munched on some popcorn. Soon, Rachel fell asleep, her head resting on the pillow, and her knees tucked up to her chest. I found a red blanket and spread it over her body, making sure it covered her feet and her hands. She looked peaceful.
As she snored, I walked over to the coffin and put my hand on top. The coffin’s wooden top felt sturdy but smooth. I opened it up. The white cushion seemed comfortable and safe. I stepped forward. I slipped off my tennis shoes, placing them right below the window. I took in a deep breath.
And then I climbed into the coffin, swinging one leg in and then the other. The moon was shining through the window and the bugs were chirping outside. The lights were still on, but now they started to flicker and sway. I folded my arms over my chest and crossed my feet. My eyes closed. It was so quiet in there.