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“You know how I feel about funerals.” Hell, after my father’s funeral, I didn’t very well like the idea of another depression-fest. Dad had been gone for sixteen whole years now, but the amount of time didn’t lessen the blow. His death had hit me hard. I blinked back a fear tears, careful Mom wouldn’t see. Ever since his passing, she didn’t like to talk about him much. Quite frankly? Neither did I.
“I’m not going to force you to go,” Mom said. “But… it would look better if you were there with me.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Of course, I didn’t want to go to Jamie’s funeral. But, honestly, a part of me felt a pull to go. As if a gathering with his corpse would bring me some kind of sick, fucked up closure. The kind I never got fifteen years ago. It still bugged me that we stopped talking after the night I tried to drown myself.
Jamie’s face flashed through my mind. I saw us back in the common room at school, watching a classic movie. And then another memory of us viewing a B-rated horror movie—especiallythe B-rated horrors—and laughing our asses off.
A soft smile played across my lips.
“Is that a yes?” Mom stood with her back against the sliding glass door which was covered in a layer of water droplets on the other side. Like the effects of the Paxil on my brain, I also barely noticed the rain. Considering the rainy season in Portland lasted through most of the year.
“Yeah. Fine, Ma.” I let out a sigh. “I guess I’ll go if it makes you happy.”
“Thanks, Jemma.” Mom’s lips curled into a half-smile. There was a brief pause. Then, she added the next words nearly robotically. “You know I care about you, right? You know everything I do is because I love you.”
Like saying those words meant everything was okay. Like things would be wonderful between us. Like she could say she loved me and that was enough, she’d done her job as a mother.
“I know,” I said, mimicking her controlled tone. “I love you, too.”
Chapter Six
Funeral
Pews surrounded Mom and me on each side as we stepped down the center aisle. I swallowed. The smell of Frankincense and balsam oil caressed my nostrils. A soft breeze wafted from the cracked doors behind. White Calla Lily’s lined the altar ahead, laid out in rows along each of the four steps leading down to the floor.
At the bottom of the steps, an opened casket caught my eye. The cherry oak wood was as glossy as a piece of modern art on display. Which seemed especially contradictory that something so new and shiny would cover someone so dead.
Misty red light from the stained-glass in the ceiling drifted down, presenting itself as if a halo over the body I could yet barely see from where we were at the back of the church.
On the left of the casket, Jamie’s parents stood together, his father’s arm around the mother and hands clasped over hers. Jamie’s dad’s hair had grayed over the years. Just like Jamie, I also hadn’t seen his father in about fifteen years. I’d only seen his parents a handful of times anyway, so they practically looked like strangers to me.
I trailed behind Mom who quickly adjusted the black rain jacket that she wore, loosening a few buttons from the top as if she had to show off the dark dress beneath. That was her alright—always aiming to show a certain status. Even at a goddamn funeral.
Mom’s wedding band sparkled, reflecting the light from the candles which flickered around the perimeter of the dim church. Going on sixteen years after Dad’s death, and she still never took that ring off. I doubted she ever would.
We crossed into the space before the casket. Though my pace matched Mom’s swiftness, time grew heavy and seemed to slow. Every moment became thick with a cutting gloom that no amount of medication could cure. My body tensed, regretting with every fiber of my being that I’d agreed to come to Jamie’s viewing.
As we neared the casket, I averted my eyes—focusing on his parents instead—not yet ready to see the boy I’d once known.
“Thank you for being here, Carol,” Jamie’s mother said softly to Mom. Up close, his mother’s eyes appeared puffy, her pale complexion even whiter than what I remembered. Though she had a tiny, fragile frame, I recognized Jamie in her facial features. I inhaled deeply, pressure surfacing around my heart.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said to both his mother and father, glancing back and forth between the two of them. As if in sync with one another, they both tilted their heads, nodding in acknowledgment. A light, sad smile played on both of their faces.
“He would’ve wanted you to be here, Jemma,” his father murmured.
Slowly, I moved my head toward the boy I no longer knew.
In the casket lay a man I could barely place. The features belonged to Jamie alright—rosy cheeks and a very distinguished nose. But there were also a few lines under his eyes, and a definition in his jaw I hadn’t known before. His wavy hair remained exactly as I had remembered it, however. And his body, which someone had dressed up in a black suit and tie, clothing he never would’ve worn typically, was just as tall as I remembered. He’d filled out a bit since I’d seen him as a teen—but if anything, the weight looked good on him. I shook my head, realizing I was checking out adeadguy.
One thing I especially noticed was his neckline. I wasn’t too familiar with people who hanged themselves. But, beneath the makeup they must have used to cover the skin, I caught a glimpse of redness that didn’t look natural. Shaped in an imperfect half-oval beneath his Adam’s apple.
Despite this, he almost didn’t look dead. Just like he was in a super deep sleep. My mind flashed back to a random memory of waking him up after we’d accidentally fallen asleep in his bed in his dorm room. For the tiniest of microseconds, I was back there again at Stony Point. I nearly reached over the casket to try to wake him up.
I stopped myself.
The reality was, I wouldn’t be able to see his blue eyes ever again.
I looked at him a little bit longer, examining him for any signs of life. I didn’t know how to process all the thoughts creeping through my mind.Sadness? A little bit, yes.Disbelief? Even staring at the body, yes.
