The moment before the drums crashed in always made a shiver of anticipation run through her, like she was channelling a tiny part of the universe’s energy. She sat behind the kit listening to ‘Little Death’ by The Beths, one of Abi’s favourites. The song built, no drums, light trills on the ride cymbal, then Dorothy counted in her head as she launched into the chorus. It wasn’t technically difficult but they were young, so much energy, fast and thrashy. That’s why Abi liked them and Dorothy could see the appeal, it helped her feel young too. She moved on to tom rolls for the second verse, then another burst into the chorus. Sometimes all you need in life is an indie-rock groove.
The female singer was singing about an orgasm not actual death, maybe that’s what Dorothy needed too, sex with Thomas rather than facing the countless dead people who passed through her life, each one leaving something inside her but also taking a small part of her when they left. The song moved on to military snare rolls for the next verse, then some terrific fills round the kit in the middle eight. Dorothy sat back and opened up, felt her arm throb with pain but kept on anyway, leaned into the pain even, pain lets you know you’re alive. She smiled, thinking about how drumming was her Zen. Physical action translated into air vibrations that could be heard far over the Links outside. The song burst through a final double chorus, then a strange little coda winding down, like after an orgasm maybe. Smart songwriters.
She looked up and saw Hannah with a bittersweet smile in the doorway.
She nodded and took off her headphones.
‘It’s time,’ Hannah said.
Dorothy looked around the garden and felt dizzy with déjà vu. But she wanted to remember, wanted to be taken back. She’d worn the same yellow dress, for God’s sake. She was standing at the head of the funeral pyre, Jenny on one side, Hannah and Indy on the other, Archie standing opposite her. Just like they had for Jim.
She looked at Einstein’s body, sitting on the pile of wood and kindling, all on the metal grate, the same one they used before. They had rosemary and thyme placed on his body, lavender and pinecones.
It might seem stupid to have a ceremony for their dog, but Einstein had worked his way into her heart and saved her life, goddamn it. She felt her throat dry up and swallowed.
She saw Schrödinger come out from behind Archie, walk along the side of the pyre. He stretched his neck to look at Einstein’s body. He paused for a moment then leapt onto the unlit pyre, sniffed at Einstein’s face, then looked around. Dorothy watched and waited. Schrödinger licked the dog’s face, dropped to the ground, walked in a circle a few times then stood there as if in a trance.
Dorothy cleared her throat. She hadn’t said anything at Jim’s funeral, he’d specifically asked that. She would say something now.
‘Thanks everyone.’ She looked at her family, so lucky to have these people in her life. ‘We’re here to say goodbye to Einstein, a brave and loyal friend.’
Her arm throbbed as if reminding her what the dog had done. She imagined Whiskers joining the mourners, sitting on her haunches and paying last respects to a fellow warrior who died in combat.
‘Buddhism tells us that life doesn’t end when our bodies die,’ Dorothy said. ‘I don’t know about the cycle of life and death, reincarnation, any of that stuff. But I do know there are forces in the universe we don’t understand. There is an energy that surrounds us all, that we’re all connected to, a part of. The Buddhist monk Thích Nhất Hạnh tells us that life is like a wave. We can see a wave, measure it, we know what it is. Each wave has a beginning and an end. When it breaks on the shore, it stops being a wave but it’s still water. The wave was water long before, and it will go on being water after the wave is gone. When we die, we stop being a wave but we will always be water.’
Her heart raced in her chest and she tried to breathe through it. She saw Indy dabbing her eyes, squeezing Hannah’s hand. Jenny was crouched down stroking Schrödinger, who leaned into it. She picked him up and held him to her chest. Dorothy felt sick looking at Jenny’s bruises and cuts. So much damage to them all, not all of it visible. She looked at Archie at the bottom of the pyre. The reliable one, the stalwart. But he had his own grief, they all did, empty space where our loved ones used to be. All the wave analogies in the world didn’t fill that hole.
He looked to her and she nodded.
He lit a long taper and began lighting the kindling, walking round the body. The flames took hold, the smell of burning wood in Dorothy’s nose, then a mix of Einstein’s body and the herbs and pinecones, the dog’s essence rising into the atmosphere, a wave returning to the water.
Einstein burned quicker than she expected.
Dorothy paused and looked around the chapel room of their home. For a hundred years it had been used for funerals, but as far as she knew this was the first wedding. She smiled at Hannah in a dark-yellow suit, her hair up in an elaborate bundle. It made her look more mature. Dorothy turned to Indy, dressed in a sari she’d borrowed from Esha which matched Hannah, yellow and orange swirls, shimmering sequined lining. Both of them were beaming.
Beyond them were the people most important in their lives. Esha and Ravi holding hands, Archie with a smile. Thomas in an impeccable suit, giving her a look that made her feel warm. Abi in a cut-off T-shirt and black jeans, filming the whole thing on her phone. Jenny and Liam, throwing each other a glance that Dorothy understood.
Dorothy coughed. ‘Do you, Hannah, take Indira to be your lawfully wedded wife?’
‘I do.’
‘And do you, Indira, take Hannah to be your lawfully wedded wife?’
‘I do.’
‘Then I pronounce you partners in life.’
Hannah and Indy kissed each other, laughing between the kisses, and Dorothy thought about waves and water, how we are all part of the same ocean. How our lives aren’t like stories, we don’t reach the final page, we just keep going.