The sanctuary is filled with people, which is no surprise because my mother was friendly with almost everybody in Laguna. Everyone loved and adored her and she felt the same about them. That fact makes me proud. I take the lead and grab my sister’s hand, guiding her down the aisle. As we walk to the reserved pew in the front, I notice the array of flowers that line the altar and wonder if Serena sent some from us. I wish I had thought of it.
I haven’t been to church in so long that when I kneel and make the sign of the cross before entering the row, it feels foreign, strange even, but natural at the same time. This ritual was instilled in me during my early teen years. After all, I went to Wednesday night Catechism classes until I was fifteen. My mother wanted me to be a good Catholic boy and tried to secure this by making sure that the sacraments of initiation were bestowed upon me. I received the rights of baptism, made my first Holy Communion, and was confirmed like all good Catholic boys. So I guess that means that God has given me the graces necessary to live a truly holy life. I try not to laugh out loud at the thought because the life I have been leading does anything but follow the straight and narrow path.
Organ music fills the church and Serena starts to cry. When she dabs her eyes with a crumpled tissue, I reach into my pocket and hand her a white hankie that used to be our mother’s. “Use this.”
She stares at it for the longest time. Catching sight of the monogram only brings more tears to her eyes. My father’s initials, LBC—Lucas Benjamin Covington—are scripted across the corner in navy blue block letters.
“Where did you get this?” she asks quietly.
“I found it on the floor in the family room a few days ago.” I don’t tell her it was the day I was supposed to pick her up and go to the funeral home with her to make the arrangements. But since I was late, she had left without me. I don’t need to point out to her what a mess I am. She can see it.
I just can’t seem to get my shit together no matter how hard I try.
“I thought I’d lost it,” she says squeezing it tightly in her clenched fingers.
Suddenly someone leans forward and places a hand on Serena’s shoulder. When I see the large pearl ring emblazoned with diamonds, I know immediately it’s Dahl. I turn and glance at her. She’s dressed in black, like all of us, and she’s wearing her pearls. Next I survey the row, the people sitting with her, him, his brother, and then I notice his sister, S’belle. My eyes dart to her. I want to say I’m surprised she’s here but I’m not. She’s not wearing black, but rather a dark green dress with many gold chains around her neck and I think, rebel. I always got that vibe from her. When Aerie, Dahlia’s best friend since college, makes her way across the pew, I’m forced to shift my eyes away. She nods at me with a sympathetic look, which is more than I would have expected from her. We always had a love/hate relationship. Thinking back, I’m not sure why since we both only ever wanted what was best for Dahl. Then it hits me. Aerie somehow knew all along that I wasn’t what was best for Dahl.
Caleb, my best friend since I was seven, and really the only friend I have left, is the last person to enter the church and he takes a seat beside me, squeezing my shoulder as he does.
“You doing okay, man?” he asks.
I look over at him and nod. I’m thankful there’s one person in my life that never judges me. He might get pissed at me, we might toss each other around, but he’s like a brother to me and I know he’ll always have my back. He has ever since the second grade—we were in Miss Novak’s class and I was staring out the window, just wanting to be out there, not stuck inside. She had asked me a question that I didn’t hear. He jabbed my foot and muttered the answer. I nodded my head and answered her. After that we were buddies.
I force myself to focus my attention on what’s happening at the front of the church.
“Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted.” When I hear those words I automatically turn to look for Dahl. The memories of those words and sitting beside her to comfort her when she lost her parents and her uncle send another wave of sadness through my body.
There’s a softness in her eyes I wasn’t expecting as she catches my gaze for a minute. Despite the physical and emotional distance between us, and the hatred I know she feels toward me, I find comfort in her being here. But it’s a double-edged sword and I quickly turn back around. She was always a part of my family, but that family has been forever shattered—my mother is gone, Trent is in rehab, and Dahl, well, she’s no longer mine.