Theonlythingworsethan a Monday morning is a Monday morning with a funeral. My lungs feel like they are in a vise that no amount of deep breathing can crack loose. Mom’s in my passenger seat, playing the role of a true passenger princess as she’s retying her Ralph Lauren scarf for the third time. “This is a funeral, so our game face needs to stay somber,” she says in a cheery voice. “You’d be surprised who you can casually bump into at these things. We still want people to like us, so it’s best to have a polite smile ready to tack on for those moments.”
I grit my teeth.
What I wouldn’t do for a flat tire.
I’m not to the point of slashing them myself, but if I see a nail on this road, I’m swerving. Even better if it’s a roofing nail. I don’t need to mess around with a slow leak. Just give me the blowout. This car ride is endless. Every street sign pulls my anxiety taut across my chest, and a loop of doom scrolls endlessly through my mind.
I can’t walk into a church and lie.
There must be a special place for people who lie in a church.
I’m not a liar.
I can’t do this.
I say I’m not a liar. Yet here I am, dressed in something respectful, with my hair pinned back, and my crazy mom next to me as we head off to pay our respects to someone we never met. The weight of all the lies crashes over me, so heavy that I slump forward in my seat.
I need this to be over!
“Oh, dear, don’t slouch like that, Lottie. It puffs out a stomach roll.” Mom reaches across the middle console, invading my personal space to tug at my jacket lapel. “Did you even sleep last night? You look exhausted.”
I want to scream!
Or at the very least slam my head into my steering wheel.
Oh, man, what I wouldn’t give for a construction site right now. I’d beg for a bucket of nails, and I’d sprinkle them on the road myself. Unfortunately, my tires stay inflated, and we arrive at the church early. Bracing for the whispers, I ease out of the car and do my best to blend into the sea of mourners. It doesn’t take long to spot Bodan standing in the back of the church, along with the family as they gather. He’s wearing an impressive suit and a somewhat guarded expression.
And just like that, my guilt doubles.
He sees me, and his eyes soften, sending a double dose of shame flooding through me. I weave through the crowd towardhim with my mom on my heels whispering commentary, “If you don’t know what to do with your hands, just fold them in front of you like you’re praying.”
“Mom,” I hiss, resisting the urge to throw her out the nearest window. Okay, that’s a little extreme, but the amount of stress this woman puts me under is borderline inhuman. I plod forward, all the while mentally chanting,This is the last fake-dating event I will do. Get through this, and it’s done!
Bodan meets me halfway through the swelling crowd. He wobbles a little before settling on leaning in for a one-handed hug. Since we are in a church, it feels appropriate enough. When he releases me, he goes a step further and hugs my mom. That’s a good move for theatrics. Bodan is better at this than I am.
He’s good, but the Oscar should definitely go to my mom.
She’s so good at this lying-through-her-teeth stuff, she squeezes him back, giving him a few pats as she fake-sobs. “I’m so sorry about your loss, sweetie. We are so honored to be included in this celebration of this amazing soul.”
“Thank you, Senator Halloway. It’s an honor to have you here.” Bodan’s perfect reply makes me do a double take. He’s eating up this display as much as my mom, and he dramatically ushers us to our seats. The problem is, they are in the middle of the family section. It’s hard for me to resist shaking my head. I loathe everything about this farce, but Mom’s lips tip up like she’s holding back from handing out seed packets to all the important people she’s been plopped among.
With a packed church, we squish together. Bodan comes around the other side, sliding next to me so closely I can feel the warmth radiating from his suit. I suppose to anyone else we look like a couple. I’m sure there are people who have lied about worse things in life, but my guilt twists tighter with every heartbeat.
Halfway through the eulogy, I steal a glance at him and catch him nodding at his grandma, who is on the other side of him. Almost everyone in the room has at least a sniffle or a tear. Bodan is holding himself together so far. Mom nudges me with her elbow and whispers from the side of her lips, “Keep your shoulders back. It makes you look slimmer.”
I close my eyes, silently begging for this to be over. It’s funny how it only took a little over a week for one seemingly innocent lie to completely take over my life. The guilt consumes me. I know one thing, once I’m free from all this deception, I’m never lying again.
Not even about my weight on my driver’s license.
Ooh, that’s a tough one.
Is rounding down lying? I mean, they taught us how to do it in school, so that much should be acceptable.
Finally, the service ends. A shuffle of mourners moves toward the reception hall, granting me brief reprieve from the pressure of having to sit in the front row of a congregation. “I’m glad you came,” Bodan says quietly as he turns to me. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”
I swallow hard, and whisper, “It is. You handled my mom’s fundraiser and the parade, and I owed you a favor.” My hands clutch the fabric of my jacket as I look around at everyone breaking into little social circles as they meander to the reception room.
“If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to introduce you to my grandma,” he murmurs, slipping his hand into mine like he thinks it belongs there. My body doesn’t agree, and I immediately miss the way it feels when Ty holds my hand.
