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Mrs. Taylor sits between the two of them, her eyes locked straight ahead. Mila, with her red-rimmed eyes, sits on the other side, her chest heaving up and down as if she’s having a hard time keeping herself together. Four people. That’s all the family these two people have left. It’s possibly one of the saddest things I’ve ever seen.
The man at the front of the room begins to speak, his words mostly impersonal other than the sprinkle of information he’s been given by the family. Even the music that plays seems indifferent. I consider that there’s a possibility that my own bias and anger with this entire situation is making everything seem like it’s not enough because they deserved better. We shouldn’t be here right now with two caskets in the front of the room. There shouldn’t be two little boys off to the side saying goodbye to both of their parents. It’s tragic and sad and unfair.
My jaw clenches, my hands tightening into fists.
I’ve been to too many funerals in my lifetime. I’ve lost too many people I care about, but this is so much worse. In war, loss of life is expected. Not many make it through their time in the service without having to say goodbye to someone.
This is more atrocious, but not because Carlen was my oldest friend. I met many others in the Corps that I was just as close to. There’s just something about the danger that comes along with being in the military that has the power to force you to make unbreakable bonds with others.
This funeral is heinous because shit like this shouldn’t happen to anyone. Murdered while sitting in a car? The minimal details I know make it sound like a hit, like something you’d expect at a red light in Mexico or South America.
I pull my eyes from the man speaking in the front and run them back in the family’s direction. Mila is watching me, and the second we lock eyes, her lips twitch as if she’s annoyed that I’m even sharing space with her in the same room.
We didn’t leave things on a bad note. She knew before I touched her that I wasn’t the type of man to call the next day. Sex with her didn’t mean I was going to fall head over heels or even want to date her. She said she was fine with that, and as misogynistic as it sounds, of course she wasn’t. It’s clear by the hatred in her eyes that she has regrets, even though she left that tiny above-garage apartment the next morning with a smile on her face and cheeks flushed from the handful of orgasms she demanded from me. She instigated the entire thing. She came to me, not the other way around.
I pull my eyes from her, not wanting to cause any more stress than she must already be feeling.
Luca begins to fiddle with the button on his little suit jacket, picking at the thread enough that the button comes off in his hands. Mila pulls the thing from his fingers, but the boy jerks his hand away from her, leaning closer to Mrs. Taylor in an effort to get away from his aunt.
When Mila leans over to speak quietly to Luca, he buries his face into Mrs. Taylor’s clothes, ignoring her words. It’s clear this entire situation has been hard on all of them.
The funeral is too short for being the final goodbye for two people.
I debate what I should do as it’s my row’s turn to stand and issue my condolences to the family. Trying to be the bigger person, I step into the line, shaking Mrs. Taylor’s hand wordlessly. Mila pretends I don’t exist, but now isn’t the time to force the issue.
She’s hurting, and I’d never be so egotistical to worry about myself in a time like this. I know there are degrees of grief, and losing a man that I was close to for years doesn’t even come close to her losing her sister.
My throat threatens to close as I walk past the caskets.
As good as a lot of funeral homes are, they’re never able to get the people quite right. The skin coloring is always off by a few shades. The makeup isn’t how the person in the casket would’ve done it, and today is no exception.
Janet doesn’t look peaceful despite her pretty blue dress. I press my hand to the side of her casket. I take a few more steps forward, my throat working on a swallow as I see my friend, knowing it will be the last time. The couple will be cremated so there’s no graveside service. This service is it.
I pause, uncaring if I hold the line up for a minute or so, refusing to be rushed in this moment.
My goodbyes are a whisper in my head, his belief in the afterlife controlling how I handle this situation rather than the blankness of my own beliefs.
My position in Cerberus makes me want to seek vengeance for the both of them, but I’m standing in a funeral home in St. Louis, not outside of some compound in South America. I feel impotent and helpless as I walk away.
Chapter 4
Mila
Funerals are always exhausting, and what a shitty way to feel. Like I have any right to feel tired when two people I loved are now gone forever.
I drained every penny of my very meager savings paying for the service and cremation, and knowing how long it took me to get even that small nest egg saved up makes me feel a little bitter.
The stack of mail in my lap outside of my sister’s house isn’t helping any.
The sun is starting to set on what I’d consider the second worst day of my life. The first being the day last week when I got the call about Janet and Carlen being shot in their car.
I refuse to cry at what I’m seeing as I flip through the envelopes, the wordsFINAL NOTICEandTERMINATIONstamped in red on several of them.
I no longer have to wonder about the trouble they were in. The proof of their financial demise is staring me in the face.
I came to the house because I was numb from the funeral and figured it would be easier to deal with some of the shit here, but I didn’t make it past the front end of my car before I decided to climb right back behind the wheel. This is too much for anyone to handle, and the hits just keep coming.
To make matters worse, I’m responsible for two little boys, and Jace told me earlier after the service that he hated me. I’d expect that from Luca, the younger boy, but it was a slap in the face coming from the one who has been more mature so far. He’s helpful with his little brother, making me wonder more than once why his nurturing seems like something he’s been doing for a while and not something he’s doing since his parents died. From everything else that’s lining up, I wouldn’t be surprised to find that the house isn’t the only thing that’s been neglected recently.
