That morning, I fished in Mona’s closet for a simple black blouse and paired it with a pair of black jeans. My only shoes were my sneakers, but no one would see them if they were tucked under the pews.
I dropped some change in my pocket and walked to the bus stop at the end of Sunny View Drive. The clear plastic shelter felt like a magnifying glass in the sun, and I stood beside it, with my toes on the curb. A car slid to a slow stop at my feet. I looked up and saw Anh’s face in the passenger-side window of Jeremy’s Civic. The glass rolled down. She was perfectly polished in a sleeveless black sheath and a strand of delicate pink pearls. Her nails were painted pale pink to match and in her small hands, she held an elegant black clutch that shone like her patent leather heels. She said nothing about my jeans and sneakers. Just looked at me with a sad smile.
On her other side, Jeremy wore a dress shirt and tie, and looked hard at the steering wheel.
“You shouldn’t go alone,” Anh said quietly. “Get in. We’ll take you.”
The city bus rolled to a noisy stop behind the Civic, a trail of suffocating exhaust blowing over me. The air brake released and the bus doors swung open, but the choice Anh was offering didn’t feel like a choice at all. I knew they were going to the funerals, same as I was, but they looked like a matched pair, and I felt like I was crashing their date. But if I took the bus, I’d seem ungrateful.
I pulled open the Civic door and scrunched myself into the backseat. “Thanks.”
We rode to Posie’s family’s church in silence. Neither of them asked the questions I knew must be on their minds. Why my mentees? Why me? Because how can you ask a question like that without it sounding like some kind of accusation? So instead, they said nothing.
I sat beside Anh in the back of the church with my hands tucked under me, and my legs folded tight at the ankle. Jeremy sat on her other side, her leg crossed at the knee, angled toward his. She cried silently into a clean lace hanky. My own tears slid steadily down over my chin.
When it was over, Posie’s family took up quiet places beside her open casket. The receiving line moved slowly, relatives and students pausing to hug or shake hands with her parents. I wiped my palms over my jeans as we neared the front of the line, made an excuse about needing to use the bathroom, and waited outside until it was over.
Silent and numb, we loaded into Jeremy’s car and followed a caravan of students to Teddy’s graveside service on the other side of town. We stood on the outside edge of a large circle of mourners. The soccer team was there to acknowledge the loss of their water boy. Vince stood tall in a dark designer suit, hands folded and head bowed. I watched, bitter, as he approached Teddy’s mother and reached for her hand. He held it while he spoke to her, paying day late respects to her lost son, a kid he never had a kind word for until he was lying in a hole.
As if reading my thoughts, Jeremy shook his head and whispered, “Amazing, isn’t it? How they all see him now?” He watched the endless receiving line with a look of fascination. His hand wandered to his chest where his camera would normally be.
Anh took a deep, shaky breath and rested her head on Jeremy’s shoulder. The thought of getting in the backseat of Jeremy’s car again was unbearable. When I walked away from the service, across the cemetery, I was pretty sure neither of them noticed.
? ? ?
It was dusk when I got off the city bus and stared down the potholed mouth of Sunny View. Every inch of me felt heavy, and I walked slowly toward home. Music blared from Lonny Johnson’s trailer, and strange cars lined both sides of the street. Kylie hung over the railing of his front porch.
“Boswell!” she called, heavy-lidded and unsteady on her feet. “Come party with us!” After two funerals, I didn’t have the energy to shout back. I half smiled and kept walking. “Come on,” she sang loudly after me. “Your boyfriend’s here!”
I slowed and looked at the line of parked cars, finding Reece’s motorcycle wedged in it. I hesitated, unsure, and glanced back at my own trailer. The shades were drawn tight. Mona might not notice. Even so, I’d rather gouge my eyes out than step foot inside Lonny Johnson’s front door. But how would it look to him if I turned away now?
Lonny’s door flung open and Reece stepped out, a cigarette dangling between his lips. He held a beer can in his hand, laughing and talking with one of Kylie’s friends, a bleach-blonde with dark roots and heavy eye makeup, and boobs too big for her frame. Kylie elbowed him hard in the ribs and jerked her chin at me. Reece’s eyes found mine and his face sobered. He handed the blonde his beer without looking at her. Then he flicked his cigarette and directed his exhale to the ground in a move that looked entirely too practiced.