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“Miss Rodriguez, we’re simply here to pay our respects,” Officer Burton says in a patronizing tone.
Jackie overhears the exchange and struggles to push through the crowd. Eventually, she arrives at Samantha’s side. “Everything okay over here?”
“Absolutely,” Samantha says with a confident grin. “We’ll be fan-fucking-tastic as soon as these two make their exit.”
Officer Burton scoffs. “This doesn’t seem like an appropriate tone for such a sad occasion.” He looks around at the crowd that’s gathering around them. “Am I right, people?”
Silence follows. After that, Samantha’s wrath. “Did it seem appropriate to tell my mother to go back to her own country in front of her coworkers, Officer Burton?”
His lips part, and Samantha revels in his obvious discomfort.
“Yeah. I bet you thought I had forgotten that, huh?” When he says nothing, Samantha continues. “What about the fact that your rat-faced loser of a nephew was a known rapist, and you did nothing to hold him accountable? What about that?”
Beth’s expression goes from sour to fuming at Samantha’s mention of Trevor. Officer Burton stays quiet but is clearly just as incensed as Beth is.
Samantha steps forward. “Today is my mother’s funeral, and I think I’m well within my rights to boot your racist ass out of here.”
She looks at Beth. “Ugh, I don’t have to spell it out for you, do I, Beth?” She nods toward the exit. “Just go.”
The priest approaches from behind Samantha and clears his throat. “Dear, this is God’s house. All are welcome.”
“Not today, they’re not,” she replies. “At least, not during the service.” Samantha turns to face them once again. “You want to come back and pray? Do it after three p.m. Until then, I get to choose who honors her memory, and neither of you are on the guest list.”
Vanessa starts clapping the moment Samantha is done speaking, and it makes me realize how alone she must feel right now. These two deeply unpleasant humans attempted to crash her mother’s funeral, and she is the only one refusing to allow it. I get to my feet, nodding at my brothers to follow as I exit the pew. I hear Axil grumble his caution, but I ignore it. The repercussions of what I’m about to do are nothing compared to the pain that Samantha must be feeling. And it’s important that someone in this town takes a stand against Burton.
I hear Vanessa say, “Oh hell yeah,” as she follows us toward the doors. We make our way through the crowd and stand next to each other in a row once we get between Samantha and Officer Burton.
“You were asked to leave,” I tell Officer Burton, straightening my spine. “I suggest you do so.”
He smirks as he looks from me to each of my brothers. Then he steps forward until he’s mere inches away from me. “You think it’s wise to threaten a police officer?” Then he whispers, “I’m armed, you know.”
Kyan leans toward Burton. “I’m sure shooting mourners in a church will do wonders for your reputation.”
Burton’s mouth curls into a grimace and his gaze narrows on me as if silently promising that he won’t forget this.
The crowd settles once he and Beth leave, and Samantha and her siblings take their place in the front pew. The priest starts speaking, but I don’t pay attention to what he says. My eyes are locked on the back of Samantha’s head, and my draxilio will not let me look away.
The priest invites members of the family to come up and speak, and the three siblings step up to the microphone together. Jackie stands in the middle with a sheet of paper in her shaking hands, with Marty and Samantha towering over her slight frame on either side.
Jackie thanks the crowd for coming, but when she starts reminiscing about her mother, she starts to cry. She makes several attempts to swallow her pain, but the tears continue in a steady stream down her cheeks. Marty gets choked up at the sight of his sister crying and is also unable to speak. Samantha reluctantly takes the paper Jackie hands her, and my hands flex at my sides as I watch her trying to read it.
She can’t, though, and I’m not sure if anyone else in this room understands that. She looks up from the paper and swallows, then back down at the array of jumbled letters in front of her.
Go to her, my draxilio urges.Pull her out of this moment. Read it for her.
As much as I want to, I can’t. She has already been put on the spot to read aloud in front of a large group of people at her mother’s funeral, running up there and taking the paper from her would only make her secret struggle more obvious to onlookers, and that’s the last thing she would want.
I remain seated, cracking my knuckles as I am forced to watch my breathtaking, passionate, strong, former sex friend try to overcome what must feel like a waking nightmare.
My anxiety dulls the moment she puts the paper on the podium. She rubs her forehead for a moment, then glances at the coffin to her right. “I, uh, I’ll make this brief,” she begins, her voice somewhat robotic. “Thank you all for being here. My mother…she, um, she probably would not have been thrilled by my little outburst, earlier…” Samantha chuckles, and many in the audience follow suit. Her eyes drift over the faces of the many people here, and land on one in particular, “Oh, Mrs. Davis is here. Hi.”
Jackie, still crying, gently nudges Samantha’s arm.
That seems to pull her focus back to the present, and she clears her throat. “I’m sure Mom would be pleased that you’re all here today to celebrate her life. And the flowers,” she gestures to the massive bouquet draped over the center of the coffin, “she would’ve loved those too.” Her tone remains stiff and her eyes vacant as she continues to ramble, singling out Mrs. Davis once more to thank her for coming, then asking Jackie if she did that already.
Marty composes himself enough to pull the mic away from Samantha and add, “Mom was a force to be reckoned with. She will be missed.” Then he ushers his sisters off the stage.
After the service ends, we stand in line to offer our condolences. When it’s my turn, Samantha takes my hand and leans in toward my ear. “Hey, meet me in the hallway near the bathrooms in five minutes,” she whispers and doesn’t let go of my hand until I agree to do so.
