Bright
Katie Hocevar
My bed was rocking on its foundations. I cracked my eyes open to bright sunlight and Meredith flailing around the room from foot to foot, head banging to a song I was too groggy to identify. I closed my eyes defensively against the garish light, and instead saw the vibrant red sea of my inner eyelids. I still heard Meredith stomping around the room, beginning to sing an off-key version of “Welcome to the Jungle.” I groaned and flung my blanket down to my feet. Meredith, I had quickly learned, blazed through life in a whirlwind of mischief, adventure, and activity that baffled my more sedentary sensibilities. I could fight the current and exhaust myself, or climb out of bed and join Mer’s impromptu karaoke session. I clambered out of bed, grabbed my hair brush, and began rocking out.
Mer jumped up and down, applauding, when we finished our duet. I turned to her and bowed, and saw her lovely gap-toothed smile sparkling. I felt my heart flutter, seeing the excitement and approval in her eyes. “Thanks, Mer,” I mumbled. The way Mer shined in a room, I always had a sense that I ought to just disappear, so everyone could concentrate on her. “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” blasted from Mer’s computer speakers then, and she began her silly flailing dance as she made her way to the shower. I could hear her singing in the shower, and I heard her boisterous laugh as she dropped the bar of soap twice, a third time. Steam poured out of the bathroom, like tendrils of daybreak fog on the nearby Charleston Harbor.
* * *
I’m not really sure what I was doing, the last time I saw her. As was always the case when Meredith was around, I was more concerned with Meredith than myself. I don’t know what I was doing, but I clearly remember what she was doing. She was crying. I know that, because it was the first time I ever saw her not beaming brilliantly, like the sun.
* * *
I watched Meredith as she leaned over the pool table. She wore Levi’s and a garnet tank top, and I could see the tattoo revealed on the small of her back as the shirt crept up. She had told me about it a while back, a Gaelic symbol. I remembered the animated motion of her hands better than the explanation. Her hand motions were large, joyful. At one point during her description, Mer touched her fingers to my forearm, and they were icy cold. When she withdrew them, the chill burned into my skin.
Mer lined up her winning shot and sunk it cleanly. She smiled brightly and dashed briskly to her opponent, who looked taken aback when she clasped his paw in her delicate hands and kissed his cheek. I couldn’t hear her voice over the bar noise, but I watched her speak animatedly, glowing with enthusiasm towards this grizzled man who had tried to take advantage of her in pool. I watched as he melted under her blue-flame gaze, as he stood helpless against the irresistible impulse to fall in love with her. By the time she sauntered away, he was enamored. His eyes followed her around the room for the rest of the night.
* * *
Meredith’s mother showed up at our door last night at 4:23 AM. I was staring sleepless at the digital clock when the pounding began. I ignored it for a while. I was not interested in facing the awful shock awaiting me on the other side of the door. Mrs. Casey thrashed at the door continuously, only pausing to roar at our neighbor, Charlie, who had emerged from his apartment to meekly protest the noise. His complaint was ignored, and Mrs. Casey continued to beat at the door. By 4:44, I convinced myself that maybe Meredith was okay, that maybe I should just answer the door.
* * *
Meredith never looked lovelier than the evening after her sister’s funeral. She refused to wear black, insisting that her sister would have detested so much morbidity. She arrived instead in a scarlet jersey wrap dress, which draped along her stunning curves and made her cerulean eyes glow. Meredith’s mother was clearly humiliated by her daughter’s lack of decency, and refused to stand near her. Mer came to me instead. Throughout the service, she stood with her head erect. I sensed an aura of hollowness about her; I felt that her pride was the only flimsy vessel that kept her head above water. We left the service holding hands.
That evening we went to the waterfront park at sunset. Mer was still wearing her lovely red dress. She had a black-eyed susan tucked behind her ear, its merry face flashing against the backdrop of her white-blonde tresses. She had brought me there, she said, to celebrate her sister’s life. She clasped my hands, and we danced barefoot across the grass. We splashed in the fountain joyously, and then sprawled out across the lawn, drying ourselves in the warm Carolina air. Meredith laid her head in my lap, and we stayed that way until the sun set. As dark settled in, Meredith left me. I glanced at her delicate face under the glare of the street lamp before parting ways, and saw that she was crying.
* * *
When I finally unlatched the door for Mrs. Casey, she immediately barged in and began screaming at me, at the walls, at the world outside the window. Meredith, her lovely rose of a daughter, had disappeared. There was an inevitability about the news. Meredith had defied the order of the universe by weeping openly; the only appropriate action she could take was to vanish into thin air. I sat dumbly at the kitchen table as Mrs. Casey charged around the apartment. Occasionally she paused to fling invectives in my direction. She had decided to drag me back to her house in Summerville. I mutely followed her.
* * *
Mer and I attended a friend’s Halloween party last autumn. At one point, I looked at Meredith from across the room. She smiled gaily at the crowd of people around her, all captivated by her argument to establish a citywide recycling program. She caught my eye and winked. She was glowing. I adored her.
* * *
We arrived at the Casey’s at 5:29 AM. The sky was growing gray from the arriving sun. As I stepped on to the driveway, I realized that I was still wearing my pajamas. I almost laughed, but the weight on my mind trapped any light-heartedness that might try to escape. We walked through the front door silently. I saw Mr. Casey sitting on the loveseat with his forehead creased, anxiously biting his cuticles. When he saw me after a moment, he sprang up from his seat and rushed to embrace me.
“Meredith,” he cried.
I remained limp inside his arms.
“Oh, God, Meredith, we thought you were goneÉ” he trailed off.
His warm embrace infected me. I squeezed back.
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