Epilogue

Things are much different and they aren't. I'm still Curt G. Jimenez, but I'm not Curt G. Jimenez.

This is what I did with Stella's ashes:

When I wake up, my skin is sand. I am naked and supine by Lake Erie's waters. Warden is next to me, sleeping with his eyes open, distant and near at the same time. I dress myself without wiping sand off my skin. I want to carry these bits of Eerie shore with me everywhere I go. I want to leave a trail behind that only I would be able to understand.

I am walking with Warden when I see two boys by the water, crying. I ask them if everything is okay. One of the boys holds up a paper boat. Inside the paper boat is an ant. The other boy says, "His pet ant died."

"I'm sorry," I say. I wonder if this is the first time the boys have dealt with death. What are they feeling, exactly? They are so young, maybe six or seven.

The boat is placed in the water and one of the boys brings out a matchbook and lights a match and sets the boat on fire. The boat burns quickly and we watch in silence until there is nothing to watch but water and water and water. I ask for a match and the boy with the matchbook hands me the matchbook. A man's voice calls, "Ben! David! Where are you?" and both boys run away.

I find a piece of flat driftwood. On it, I form a pile of twigs and leaves and scatter Stella's ashes over the entire surface. I light the twigs and leaves on fire, I push the driftwood into the water, and I watch as it burns, until there is only water.

"Stella," I say. That is all I can say.