His heart broke at the sound of his mother crying. “I have ,uh, three or four years, before… you know.” He swallowed thickly,
holding back his own tears because saying it out loud made it so much more real than it had previously seemed.
“I - make sure to come up here to Castorton soon. I'll make sure Andrea visits, I'm sure she'll want to see you too.”
“Of course Mom. Can you -” Edward hesitated, before continuing, “can you tell Andy for me? I'm not sure I'll be able to tell her
myself…”
“Of course sweetheart. I love you, Eddie.”
“I… I love you too Mom.” The phone beeped as the call was ended, silence once again filling Edward’s ears. He pursed his lips,
thinking of how he would tell Cindy when he got home. He looked down at his phone once more looking through the contacts. Most of the
names were of colleagues from work or members of his family. One name, however, stuck out to him, a name he had not seen in fourteen
years. Matthias Grier. Edward hardly remembered who Matthias was, though he could vaguely recall his importance to him as a child.
Edward’s fingers hesitated, wondering if this was the right choice, before hitting the call button. Something in him just yearned to
hear the voice of his old friend, to feel the sense of familiarity that came when Edward heard a voice from the past.
The second to last ring sounded before a masculine voice answered the phone. “Hello? Who is this?” Edward sighed in relief, for
Matt’s voice still sounded the same as it used to.
“Eddie… Rosenthal. Remember me from college? And you know, before that too.”
“I'm sorry, I don't know who you're talking about. Wrong number?” Matt chuckled, and the familiar laugh felt bittersweet to
Edward, knowing that his old best friend didn't even remember his name. The words spoken were dangerous weapons, each daggers dug
into Edward's heart.
“Oh yeah, sorry, haha.” He quickly hung up the phone before Matt could hear him sniffling as his eyes teared up once more.
How stupid he was to think that his previously faithful companion would miss him as he had missed Matt for years. Edward should have
known that once Matthias Grier hung up the phone and said goodbye that final time fourteen years ago, he was never going to associate
himself with Edward Rosenthal again. They were never going to have the same golden friendship as before and Edward felt stupid for
trying to rekindle the flame. He leaned against his car for a moment, before finally opening the door and driving home.
In the driveway of the Rosenthal residence, Edward parked the car but did not get out. He didn't think he could handle telling
Cindy yet, so instead, he stayed in his car and rested his forehead against the wheel gently, his hands cupping his knees. In that moment
of solitude, he finally let himself experience the pain and anger that he'd held back at the hospital. He finally broke down and cried,
cursing the world that had taken his happiness and crushed it in its fist.
Seven years later Edward Rosenthal - or Eddie Rosenthal as his grave said, had been dead for four whole years. Vivian had
insisted that the grave said Eddie, rather than Edward, because her son was a boy named Eddie, not a man named Edward. Next to the
gravestone was the grave of Eddie’s father, Rob, who had passed away one year after Eddie. Sat atop the gravestone, were wilting
yellow flowers that had been laid down by Cindy, though other than that it was relatively empty, as it had been for a long time.
On that day, the sun seemed brighter than it had ever been, floating around in a cloudless blue sky. A bird chirped nearby,
perched atop the branch of a willow tree.
Perhaps for other people, this joyous, lively
setting would be unfitting for their grave.
But for Eddie Rosenthal, the world around
his gravestone paid an ode to the golden
days he lived and the golden days the world
stole from him when he was only thirty-eight
years old.
To some, Eddie Rosenthal’s
memory was that of a white collar man with
lifeless eyes and an unsociable personality.
But to the lucky ones who knew Eddie his
whole life, his memory is that of a radiant
boy who spent his summer days looking at
the clouds and his summer nights sitting on
the back of his best friend’s bicycle,
laughing. They are the lucky ones.
Art by Lenna Makrigiannis