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We were at the back end of the viewing room, standing before a velvet-covered podium. Resting on top of it was an elaborate metal urn chased with black-and-gold scrollwork, roses and vines.
It was all that was left of our friend.
Silently we bowed our heads, as if saying a prayer. Elizabeth’s wake was also her funeral, which explained why there hadn’t been a burial time. And that’s because her family — or maybe even Elizabeth herself — had chosen cremation.
“Wanna go look at the photos?”
“Yeah.”
Somberly we made our way past Elizabeth’s parents, giving them our condolences. I’d been worried they might hold us responsible. That as the group of teens who’d grown up with their daughter, they might harbor resentment or assign some measure of blame for the dark path she ultimately took.
Instead they only smiled tearfully, hugging us as we passed through. I could feel their pain though. Their anguish in having to go through something this horrific.
Fuck these things.
If anyone had reason to hate funerals, it was me. I’d never derived comfort or solace from them, and I resented going through the motions. When my parents died, I was forced to hug a hundred people I didn’t even know. People who’d known my mother and father in passing, or ‘old friends’ who hadn’t been in contact with them for years and decades. I was expected to console them somehow, or let them console me. Still grappling with my own grief, it was the last thing I’d wanted to do.
Luke guided me over to join Warren and Adrian before a collection of colorful photographs. They were arranged neatly across two large sheets of cardboard, with all the meticulous attention to detail I’d expect from Elizabeth’s rather OCD mother.
“Wow, look at these.”
There were photos of Elizabeth as a baby, a toddler, a little girl. Then as a teenager, in outfits and hairstyles I remembered quite well. There was photos of us, too. Pictures of the five of us at one place or another; backyard barbecues, movie theaters. Clowning around during Christmas, in the overcrowded parking lot at the mall.
“Check this one out,” Warren pointed.
The photo was one I knew well, because I had a copy at one point in my life. It was Elizabeth and the rest of us, sprawled across the football field after the homecoming game. I was still wearing my cheerleading outfit. Warren, his football gear. Luke was leaning against Warren’s shoulder, a flop of long blond hair hanging over one eye, and Adrian stood with his arms folded proudly in front of him — not a tattoo in sight.
“God, we were all so young.”
Luke laughed. “We’re twenty-fucking-seven. It’s not like we’re—”
“I know,” Warren interrupted him. “It just… well…”
“It feels like this was a hundred years ago,” I nodded. “Instead of ten.”
“Yeah. Totally.”
An arm slipped around me, and another went over my shoulder. The whole thing was surreal. I never expected Warren and Luke to get within twenty yards of each other, much less be standing on either side of me. Each with an arm around me, to boot.
We looked at the photos some more, then moved on so others could have the chance. That’s when I noticed Adrian had wandered away. He was back at the podium, or table, or whatever the hell it was. Standing before Elizabeth, with his head bowed low.
Shit.
I walked over slowly, coming up behind him. Gently I placed a hand on his shoulder.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” he grunted. “I just… I expected to see her one more time, that’s all.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“All that crazy dark hair — I wanted to touch it once more, you know? That pouty, smarmy mouth.”
“That mouth always got her in trouble,” I smiled.
He let out a gruff laugh. “You know I had a bet with myself? That no matter what the mortician did, no matter how she looked, that if I stared at her long enough, the bitch would actually smirk?”
I suppressed a chuckle. “I guarantee she’s smirking right now.”
