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Don’t Need You
Nick
Ihatefunerals.Maybebecause they always remind me of some of my earliest and worst memories—my mother’s funeral—but there’s something so processional about them that makes me nauseous. And I know Leigh hates all this even more than I do.
It’s been nearly two weeks since her mother passed. It was the fastest they could—well, fuck, there’s no not morbid way to put it—get her body here. Abuelita insisted Leigh’s mom be buried, not cremated. Apparently, Leigh’s Abuelo, who passed away when Leigh was just a baby, wanted the family to stay together, even in death. The rant Leigh went on when hearing that was intense. Well, as far as I could tell. At least half of it was in Spanish—which I’m trying to learn. But when she really gets going, it’s impossible to keep up.
The longer we stand in this receiving line, the more I feel the rage growing inside Leigh. She’s been fighting her instincts and not challenging Abuelita on anything. I’m not sure if that’s the right choice or not, given how much anger is bubbling beneath the surface. I reach down and squeeze her hand, but she almost immediately pulls it away.
She’s barely speaking to me at this point. Barely speaking to anyone. When she does, it’s usually ranting. I’m trying not to push her. She has to go through her own process, but I’m not sure she’s going through any process at all. It seems like she’s putting up walls and shutting down, and that scares the living hell out of me.
Another person who Leigh doesn’t seem to know comes up, hugs her, and tells her how sweet her mother was. Leigh plasters her smile on, but her fists have curled into balls. The second the woman is past her, Leigh loudly says, “I need a minute.”
Abuelita frowns but nods at her. She stalks away, and Abuelita gestures for me to go after her.
I find her sitting on the steps outside the funeral home.
I drop down next to her, but before I get a word out, she says, “Abuelita send you?”
“I came to check on you.”
“That’s a yes.”
“You’re my girl. Of course, I’m going to come check on you. Whether you like it or not.”
She grunts and rolls her eyes.
That feels great.
“Hey, I get if you’re over all this. Abuelita might be pissed, but I’ll take you home right now if you want.”
“What I want doesn’t matter,” she bites back.
“It does to me.”
She stands up like I never said anything and starts pacing, hand rolling over her stomach as she does. “It’s all a load of bullshit! No one in there actually knew her. Not the version of her she became.” Some women who are leaving glance at Leigh and hurry along. “Yeah, she was such a sweet person in high school. That’s great! She wasn’t so sweet to me. So forgive me if I don’t care about your false platitudes. They don’t mean shit! If anyone truly knew the woman she became, no one would be here tohonorher! It’s a fucking joke,” she spits, then turns back toward the door.
“Leigh,” I call after her, but she ignores me.
She almost collides with Maia, who reaches out for her, but Leigh steps away. “I’m fine. Just fine. Back to the stage, on with the show.”
She stomps back inside.
Maia watches her go, then turns to me and we exchange a look.
This is bad, and it’s only going to get worse.
