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Keith stood back, pouting. He was the most sensitive of the group and for some reason he sought Ciara’s approval.
Ciara went over to him.
She hugged his waist. “I’m sorry.”
He hugged her back. “You don’t need to be sorry.” He kissed the top of her head like Michael, and all was right with the world.
“Let’s go.” Roman opened the door.
Ciara released Keith and grabbed my hand. She missed the disappointment in his eyes, but I saw it. I looked at Michael. He saw it too. While Bishop was alive, it would have never been a thing. The five of us competing for Ciara’s attention. In the last five years, I hadn’t been around consistently. Maybe things had changed.
We stepped outside and Ciara shielded her eyes. I grabbed my sunglasses from my inner pocket and slipped them over her eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispered. The sorrow in her voice hit me in the gut. I had to hold it together. If I let go, I’d take her down with me and we wouldn’t recover. I was the strong one. Helping Ciara through her emotions while keeping my emotions in check was a tall task.
Today was going to suck.
We piled into the back of one of Roman and Sean’s family’s limos. The guys slid in, and Ciara and I were last to enter. We sat in the back. Roman and me with Ciara between us. She held my hand, our fingers interlaced and sitting on my thigh. She leaned her head on Roman’s shoulder. Roman was the obvious dominant in our group and Ciara responded to him in a different way. He had spent a summer with their family two years ago, and while Roman said nothing happened, the two of them had their own relationship dynamic.
I looked around the limo. Michael was on his phone. Sean leaned his head back and had his eyes closed. He was high, but had it contained. Roman looked out the window. Keith stared at Ciara or more specifically, her hand on my thigh. I nodded. He glared at me, then averted his eyes. Fuck, we were not going to do this today.
We pulled up in front of the church a few minutes later.
I got out of the car first and pulled Ciara out on my side. I had to keep her moving or she would bolt for sure. She was shaking. Her parents stood outside of the church greeting the guests. We walked up behind them. Her mother frowned at Ciara. She took off the sunglasses and handed them to me. She smoothed her hair down.
“You look beautiful,” I whispered in her ear. I may not have been appropriate, but she needed to hear positive words. While Mrs. Irby was a mom to us all, she was super critical of her daughter. They’d were complete opposites. Mrs. Irby was more like Bishop. They never met a stranger. What people thought of them was important, but Ciara didn’t care. She did her own things.
We walked into the church two by two. Her parents first, followed by Ciara and I. The guys fell in step behind us.
The small sanctuary was stark white, the only colors were the black coffin where my friend lay and the array of flower arrangements surrounding it. The floral aroma made my nose itch. Most of the pews were full, except for the first two rows at the front. I recognized most people in the crowd. Spruce, Texas was a small town and Bishop was beloved by everyone.
I spotted my parents and nodded. My mother’s eyes grew wide. I hadn’t told them I was coming. There wasn’t time. My father’s nodded back, but his frown never faltered. You’ve heard of resting bitch face? Well, my father had resting pout face. It surprised people because he wasn’t an angry man. He was an indifferent man, which was worse.
We found our seats and settled in to hear people talk about our boy like they knew him. But they didn’t know him like the five of us knew him.
When it was time for one of us to speak, Roman and Michael were the natural choices. Sean, for obvious reasons, would not represent us well and Keith hadn’t stopped wiping his eyes since we arrived. I got it.
Roman spoke about how we all met and some funny antidotes from high school. He enraptured the crowd with tails of Bishop’s athletic prowess and his ability to talk himself out of any situation. We all nodded in agreement. Michael talked more about Bishop as he was now. Or you know, before he died.
I shuddered and Ciara squeezed my hand and placed her other hand on my bicep. I smiled at her and she gave me a half smile back. She had tears in her eyes, and they fell throughout the ceremony.
I vowed to extract a genuine smile from her before I left. This wasn’t going to break us. We owed it to Bishop to try.
CIARA
We stood outside the church, milling around, waiting for what, I wasn’t sure. My mother floated around; it was her scene. My father stood off to the side with my extended family. He would shoot looks at me. He was probably envious. It was okay for me to break down with Ricky here to carry me through. For the man of the house, it wasn’t acceptable.
I felt sorry for him.
“They are doing the reception at The Mill.” Sean lit up a cigarette. I frowned at him, and he put it out.
“Repast,” Michael chimed in.
“What?” Sean asked.
“The reception after a funeral is called a repast.”
“Whatever.” Sean shrugged. “We going or what? I need a drink.”
