Read Landslide for Free Online

only family and close friends will be in attendance.”

    Private. Yeah, right.
    Still sitting in the line of cars waiting to turn, I stare across the street to the high school and the three-ring circus the media has turned Holden’s funeral into. Shaking my head and simultaneously pitching my dead smoke out the window, I click off the radio in disgust, hoping to God that was the last time I’ll have to hear the same recycled information. I mean why do news stations refurbish their stories like that? Why can’t they just say, “Yeah, we don’t have anything new to tell you, but in case you missed it, we’ll do an in a nutshell recap for you… A college kid died. That’s it. And oh yeah, his school is remembering him at such and such time, and his only living family and close friends would like to bury him in peace, so just back your shit up and don’t bug ‘em, m’kay?”
    Really, if only…
    Sighing, I try once more to tell myself that it would be the epitome of a dick move to bail out on attending what was supposed to be an intimate gathering of family and friends who actually knew Holden. And you know, you’d think that would be easy, but actually, I’m having a really hard time coming up with something to convince myself of doing anything other than finding the nearest TV camera and telling everyone watching at home to go fuck themselves for turning into scavengers and feeding off of Mr. and Mrs. St. James and the devastating loss of their only child like they’re fucking carrion. Honestly, this whole funeral thing has spiraled completely out of control and I know for a fact that if he had a choice, Holden wouldn’t want to be here either. Actually, I bet he’d be doing goddamned summersaults in his grave by now if he hadn’t been cremated.
    His urn along with a few pictures showcasing who he was—a son, friend, athlete…stuff like that—was originally going to be the focus and at the center of his memorial service, with a handful of those of us who wanted to share memories, stories, and anecdotes about him. Then the mayor of our precious, little town and the principal of the high school got involved. They started out by encouraging Holden’s parents to move the location of the service from the small church where they were hit or miss service attendees to the high school where there’d be air conditioning and, of course, adequate seating. They seem to think that the community who supposedly loved and supported Holden most of his life is entitled to show his parents—his only real remaining family—support by coming out in faceless droves to say their goodbyes with the rest of us. I don’t know if because Holden’s parents were from Europe and he only met his grandparents and a small handful of cousins on his mom’s side once when he was a really little kid that contributed to that thinking; however it’s not like Holden was an orphan or someone living in a community that holds dear and exemplifies the motto “it takes a village to raise a child” for Christ’s sake.
    Orders and donations for those big, gaudy flower arrangements were asked to be made, even though Holden hated the idea of spending money on flowers and despite the fact that his dad is allergic to most everything that blooms. One of our friends from high school had been a summer intern at a radio station after we graduated and Holden’s parents thought it would be nice and would lift that particular burden from them if he handled the music for the service, which he was honored by and wholeheartedly agreed to do when Holden’s dad showed up at Jake’s house with tears in his eyes and personally asked him for the favor. When Jake and his brother were at the school however, checking out what kind of equipment and power cords they’d need, they were told that the high school’s music director had already chosen the songs to be played and he also had the choir and band rehearsing those songs. Never mind the fact that Holden