As We Know It
by Claire Latella
"Savour this sunset, boys. It might be the last one we ever see."
The sky's warm, sweeping colours resembled a dramatic watercolour painting, like the ones you might see on a Pinterest board as the backdrop for an entirely uninspirational quote.
‘The sun goes down. The moon comes up. And life goes on,’ it might read. Well, the sun was going down, and the moon would indeed come up. But it was more than likely that life would not go on after this night. In fact, we were all pretty much screwed.
My dad stood with Alice’s dad, and my brother sat on Jace’s shoulders. They were all looking out over the edge of the cliffside. As I caught up to them, my dad threw his arm over my shoulder with aggressive affection. He let out a long, satisfied sigh. "How you feel, Charlie?"
A loaded question, for obvious reasons. I felt a lot of things. I'd been trying to pin down my emotions for months now, to no avail. I wanted to say I felt fulfilled. Content. Like I had done all I wanted to do in these past few months. But I knew that wasn't how I felt. So instead, I told a simple truth: "I feel fine. I feel… alive."
"Well. Can't ask for much more today, can we?" He gave me a gentle smile. My father was a gentle man. He was the kind of man who would always be proud of his son. Even if I hadn't always been the strongest or the funniest or the loudest. Even if my father loved football more than anything and I had self-identified as a poet from the ripe old age of 4. We were two sides of the same coin. I knew he loved me.
He patted me on the back and turned back towards the path. "Where are the girls anyway?" he laughed along with Mike, my friend Alice's dad.
Alice and both of our moms — trailing just a short ways behind — came round the bend and into the clearing.
"Check this out, Ally." Jace turned and grinned at his sister. "World's best view, right?"
She grinned back at him and pushed her bangs out of her eyes. Alice Anderson was the kind of girl whom you had to love, no matter how much you wanted to hate her. She was strong and smart and frustratingly talented. I used to tell my mom that I could watch her dance forever. She was beautiful like the sun and as powerful as anyone I'd ever known. She would have changed the world.
Alice Anderson didn't deserve to die.
My dad and Alice's dad, Mike, have known each other since high school. They're best friends, so our two families have always been close. Alice's older brother Jace and my little brother Lucas were practically brothers themselves, and Alice and I have been best friends since we were born. But she's her and I'm me. And naturally, I was entirely in love with her.
She squinted in the direction of the sun, then raised her eyebrows and looked at me. "We are definitely a long way from Modesto."
And we were. We had been driving for at least six hours when we abandoned the cars to hike the rest of the way out. We were on top of a small mountain overlooking one of the most remote parts of the California coastline. We could just barely see — and hear— the growing group of people in the valley below and down on the beach.
Two months ago, some billionaire philanthro-pist and public figure announced he was going to host a peaceful mass gathering to celebrate the end of the world. This was about two months after our impending global fate had been announced on live television. After everyone had gotten their panic out of the way. We had the luxury of some time. A lot of armageddon books and movies have a doomsday with only a few days’ notice. We were lucky. We've had months to revel in our inevitable doom. Months to cry, months to ponder, to regret. Months to do all the stupid crazy things we'd always wished we'd done. The death toll for high-risk related accidents like cliff jumping and extreme sports increased 1000% in the month following the announcement. People stopped caring. We were all gonna die anyway. Most people had come to terms with it.
Scientists didn't have an explanation for it, but then again, there were lots of things they didn't have explanations for before this. It's just that no one really questioned those things because they didn't put us directly in harm's way. All we knew was that the sun would explode, long before we had previously assumed it would. The billionaire philanthropist had this idea for what he called a Viewing Party. A Celebration of Life. Awfully morbid if you ask me, but then again, it was hard not to be these days. It was the end of the world: money didn't mean anything anymore, but we were still listening to the billionaires like they had all the power in the world. It seemed like a good idea, nonetheless.
As we approached the valley, we started to smell the smoke. It was coming from a large bonfire in the middle of the gathering. Someone had the idea that, if people wanted to, they could bring things that are important to them and burn them in a massive beach fire. The idea was that we would be claiming some last bit of power and control over the element that would wipe us all out soon after. The things we burned would be undying because we had burned them, not the sun.
I'm not sure, I read it on a Twitter thread somewhere.
We all had small backpacks filled with our personal items that we wanted to say goodbye to tonight. I had packed my sketchbook and my grandfather's ring. My mom and dad were planning on burning their wedding rings with their handwritten vows. My little brother Lucas had his first baseball glove and his favorite player cards. I knew Alice had her film camera and some pictures she'd had on her wall, as well as her first pair of tap shoes.
When we arrived down in the valley we were met with a surreal sight. Dozens and dozens of groups, varying in size, were spread out over the distance of about two football fields. Some groups had camping tents or frame tents. Some people were tailgating out of their vans or trucks. Others just had blankets or lawn chairs. There was a big stage on the far end near the beach where musicians were playing live music, heard out of massive speakers. People were dancing. People were talking, crying, throwing stuff into the fire. And no one was alone. Everywhere you looked, people were together. Some you could tell had come together, but others had clearly welcomed strangers with open arms. Something about the collective guarantee of fatality really brought people together.
"Look, ring toss!" Lucas exclaimed, running towards a group of kids and parents playing one of the many carnival games set up across the beach. Jace followed behind him, laughing and smiling back at us.
We walked around for a while — talking with strangers and telling stories with our parents. Jace and Lucas came back eventually, and we all walked down to the beach together to let the tide drown our feet and cover them in damp, salty sand. We spoke only of happy things.
As it got darker, we wandered back up to the bonfire to give our offerings to the flame. Among the pictures that Alice burned were shots of her family and mine, as well as her first cat and the Modesto sunset. The last one she burned was a picture I recognized from a couple summers ago. It was me, caught off guard, looking over my shoulder at the camera. I was holding a wildflower from the fields behind Alice's house. We had spent that whole summer together. Riding our bikes, eating nothing but ice cream and french fries, and memorizing all of the constellations in the California sky.
"Hey, I know that guy," I said, indicating the photo.
She laughed and then smiled softly.
"That's my favorite picture I've ever taken." She looked at the photo and then up at me. Her eyes were sad, but her smile remained.
I offered my sketchbook to the fire and tried not to think about the drawing in the back I had made that same summer. A portrait of Alice, sitting in the field from which I had picked the flower I held in her photo. Millions of freckles dotted her face from the late July sun. Like constellations in a perfectly rosy-pink sky. My favorite drawing I had ever done. My mind was urging me to inch closer, to tell her what I was thinking. My body resisted. Coward.
My book and her photos burned with the heat of the sun.
My parents cried softly, but they didn't look sad as they tossed their rings into the fire. I hugged my mom and dad hard and let Lucas bury his face in my shirt as I held his head against my stomach. I reminded them all that I loved them. Alice held her family tightly and we all made our way up onto the hill to sit. I sat with Alice, lower down, with our families not far above us. We sat facing out towards the ocean. Waiting. Watching. We were quiet for a while. Just together.
"So this is it," I said, trying my best to hide the quaver in my voice.
"This is it," she echoed.
I considered trying to say something funny but thought better of it when I saw her face. Tears were falling slowly down her cheek. They almost seemed to glow in the near-dark, reflecting the quickly disappearing light. It was around 7:30 and the sun was partially tucked behind the horizon. Not long now. I thought it, but didn't say it.
She knew.
"Charlie…" her voice wavered just the slightest bit. She paused for a long moment before going on. "I… I'm seventeen years old." She said it frankly. "I don't want to die."
The words were jarring to hear. No one ever said those words out loud. We had all come to terms with it, but that didn't mean we were at peace. No one here deserved to die, and God knows we weren't ready for it. Not even the oldest person here who'd probably lived a long life filled with love. Not the babies with their parents who had no idea what was coming. Not our parents, despite the brave and soothing acts they put on. Not my eight-year-old brother who would never know what it's like to hit a home run or stay out past curfew or fall in love. I wasn't sure I even knew what that felt like. Well, I knew I loved this girl.
Alice Anderson, the person I knew the most in the world, the wise girl, the strong girl, our perfect girl. The constant picture of cool, and a paradigm of composure. And she was breaking down beside me on a hill on our last night alive. And I didn't know what to do. What could I do? What could I say? I reached over and put my hand over hers. All I could do.
Her fingers laced around mine and I found I couldn't quite breathe.
"I love you, Alice," I said, loud enough for just her to hear. And I said it again so she knew it was real. "I love you."
I heard her shaky breath and nothing else as she whispered, "I love you too, Charlie. So much."
The sun grew brighter then and I realized I was afraid.
And then I wasn't anymore.