Page 2 of Let the Light Shine Through

But what if we hadn’t? What if we would’ve spent more time off the slopes than we did on? Would Salvy have missed the avalanche that ultimately took him out?

On a sigh, I lift my head, instantly noticing a new face. One that wasn’t here before. One that’s different from every other face locked on mine. Different because not only is she wearing a white shirt in a sea of black dresses and suits, but she’s also smiling. At me.

Hands in her pockets, she leans against the back wall, bending a knee to prop one of her Vans under her ass. She’s still dressed in black, too, but in what looks like a men’s suit. It’s open in the front, revealing her two-sizes-too-big white V-neck that practically hangs from her thin frame as she lowers her head conspiratorially. Long dark curls come to a stop well below her chest and that out-of-place smile of hers is still stretching her full pink mouth.

Our eyes connect and her lips widen, showing a full row of teeth whiter than her shirt.

Who smiles at a funeral? And why?

I swallow and I swear her gaze drops to my throat before returning to mine. It’s so bleak in here, I can barely see—usually it’s all twinkling white hills and frisky gray skies—but amongst the mass of dark clothing, and even darker expressions, this girl’s like a beacon of light.

Nothing feels bright anymore. It’s all just…dull. Silent. Not the kind of silence you seek out, but the kind that finds you, then swallows you whole. My life is now muted.

Except her smile. There’s nothing quiet about her smile. I can’t take my eyes off it, wishing I could hear it myself. Feel it. Taste it.

She pulls a hand from her pocket, motioning with her heavily ringed finger for me to speed it up, almost like she’s got somewhere to be.

I hold back a scoff. In the end, we’re all going to the same place. Somewhere Salvy arrived way before he was supposed to. Definitely before I was ready for him to. He was always like that though. Eager motherfucker.

The thought tugs at my lips, and I straighten with the reminder fresh in my mind.

After a cough, I start again, “In all the years I’d known Salvy, he was always the first one down every line we carved. Not because he was the fastest, or craziest, but because that’s just who he was.” Sounds of agreement echo around the packed room. “Yeah, I guess he figured the sooner he got to the bottom, the sooner he could start back from the top all over again. I never told Salvy this, but that was one of my favorite things about him—without fail, his goofy-ass smile would be waiting at the top of whatever new mountain we were trying to conquer.”

I tell them about our time in Saas-Fee, Switzerland, leading up to the avalanche, all the while my thumb rubs a divot on the aged podium, over and over again, the spirals mimicking the swirling inside my chest from remembering those final days. I haven’t talked about our last trip together yet. I’ve always been on the quieter side, much to the frustration of my sponsors, parents, and practically any girl I’ve ever hooked up with, but ever since Salvy died, I don’t feel like talking at all. To anybody. About anything.

Maybe I did choose the silence. It’s safer. You can’t hear anything you don’t want to.

“It wasn’t supposed to end like that,” I choke out. “But if Salvy really did rush to the final finish line, I hope to God when it’s my turn to join him, that his smiling face is there to greet me one last time.”

The center aisle distorts in front of me as my vision blurs and my ears fill with deafening white noise. I manage to give the girl in the back one last look before stepping off the altar. She watches me the entire time, smile still in place. I can’t decide if I should return the smile or flip her the bird. What’s her deal?

I find my seat beside Salvy’s mom, my dad clapping me on the back a little too hard to be supportive.

“Buck up, boy. Time to get back out there already.” Both my parents have been saying it since I touched back down in the States. They think I should shake off my best friend’s death. They think I should get back to work, grinding my ass off.

For what though? To meet the same end Salvy did?

I don’t want to do anything that has to do with my old life.

The priest drones on while I fight the urge to yank my tie off. Fuck. This is the most clothes I’ve worn since…ever. Bet Salvy’s getting a real kick out of watching me squirm in this clown suit. Only for you, Big Red. Only for you.

Throughout the readings—there’s so fucking many—I catch myself trying to spot the mystery guest out of the corner of my eye, but every time I send a side-eye down our row, I can only make out the first few pews, nowhere near the back.

After my fifth failed attempt, I give in and tug at my collar roughly. I need air. But not this air. Where everybody else’s lungs beg for oxygen, mine scream for the mountains.

That’s what nobody seems to understand but pretends to nonetheless. The need, the constant pull from wherever I am to the white powder I’ve always thought was more addictive than any other—snow. Even here, even now, the itch to strap up and ride the fuck out until nothing exists except the sound of my board slicing through my own lines…it’s strong. So fucking strong.

The urge is still there, but the follow-through is not, and the longer I go without snowboarding, the easier it’ll be to ignore that impulsive feeling entirely.

With a closing prayer, the funeral concludes with a not-so-subtle invitation to take things elsewhere. My mom insisted—of course—to hold the reception at our house, so after I receive a kiss on the cheek from her, Dad leads her away to the waiting town car. The caterers have been there all day preparing, but my mom will want to go over every little detail before the first guest arrives.

I’ll take Salvy’s mom over after she has the chance to make the rounds.

Speaking of…

Scanning the small courtyard, I snag on one person in particular.

Bingo.