All the missing crooked hearts
They may die, but in us they live on
I believe,
And I believe ‘cause I can see,
Our future days,
Days of you and me
Pearl Jam
Hard Loveby NEEDTOBREATHE
Nate had planned his own funeral. Quinn told me that he’d actually had parts of it figured out since high school. That didn’t surprise me. Nate had said once that he’d always known his life expectancy wasn’t very long, and death had hovered near him time and again as we all grew up.
We gathered in the church his family had attended for years on a cold afternoon in mid-January. I sat in a pew with my parents, my brothers Simon and Danny, and Simon’s girlfriend Justine, two rows behind the front pew where Quinn and Carrie had joined Mark and Sheri. The church wasn’t even near full, and I couldn’t help comparing the turnout here with that at Matt’s service last year. That day, the church had been so full, they’d had to stream the service outside to the people who couldn’t get in, and his grandparents’ house had been crowded afterward for the repast. It made me unreasonably angry; Nate had fought with everything he had to hold onto life, and Matt had thrown his away with both hands. There should have been more people in the church.
Sheri and Mark each had a couple of siblings who were present, along with their kids. Sheri’s mother and Mark’s father were both still alive, and they were there, too. One row was filled with people I didn’t recognize; my mother murmured to me that they were all people who worked with Mark.
About ten minutes before the service began, Eli Tucker wheeled himself down the center aisle. When he caught sight of me, he nodded slightly and steered around to draw up alongside me.
“Taylor.” He extended his hand, his face drawn and sober. “Hell of a thing. I’m not supposed to be going to my college roommate’s funeral for at least fifty years.”
“Yeah.” I shook his hand and then slid over as Tuck deftly transferred himself to the wooden pew. My mother leaned forward a little and gave him a small sad smile.
“It’s cool if I sit here? I don’t know anyone else but Quinn, and I don’t want to intrude.”
I nodded. “Of course, it’s fine.” I glanced to the back of the church. “Where’s Zelda?”
Tuck’s face tightened. “I don’t know. I came with my parents.” A few rows behind us, Mr. and Mrs. Tucker were settling into their seats. Tucker’s words were curt, and his face shuttered. I didn’t ask any more questions.
I’d known of Tucker because he was a year ahead of me at a school in a neighboring town, one of our district rivals. Tuck had played quarterback, and he’d been a legend until his senior year, when a freak accident on the field had paralyzed his legs, costing him both his career and year of recovery and rehab. He’d started at Birch the same year Quinn, Nate and Gia had, and he and Nate had struck up a friendship when they’d been matched together as roommates.
Quinn had suspected that there was more than met the eye between Tucker and her own roommate, Zelda. I didn’t know them well, but when we’d hung out last summer after Nate and Quinn’s wedding, I’d noticed something, too. Zelda looked out for Tuck, and the two touched in the same way Quinn and I once had.
But clearly Tuck wasn’t interested in pouring out his heart to me today, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to push it. I had enough on my plate without adding anyone else’s heartache.
I’d seen Quinn a few times since she’d come home to Eatonboro after Nate died, but never for very long, and never alone. We’d all converged at Mark and Sheri’s house just about every day since they’d come back to town. I knew Quinn had moved back in with her mother, but she stuck close to Sheri over those days, offering as much support and comfort as she could.
She’d gotten so thin, I’d noticed. Her eyes looked huge in her face, and her clothes hung on her body as they never had before. It ripped me apart, knowing how much she’d sacrificed these months and how much it had cost her.
The first time I saw Quinn after Nate’s death, I’d acted on instinct, pulling her into a tight hug.
“I’m so sorry, Mia,” I whispered into her ear. “So sorry. Was it ... bad?” I knew that was a stupid question; of course watching your friend die was horrible, but I also trusted that Quinn would know what I meant.
“It was—hard.” She spoke slowly, as though she were still figuring it out. “It was sad. But it wasn’t the way you think. It was also beautiful and peaceful.” She smiled a little. “Nate went out with the old year. He would’ve liked that, I think. And his mom and I were there. He woke up a little earlier and spoke to us, but ...” Quinn shook her head. “It was like he wasn’t really there anymore. You know when you’re talking to someone, but you can tell their attention isn’t on you? That’s what was like. His focus had shifted.” She sighed, wrapping her arms around her middle. “As it should.”
“Are you okay?” Again, it sounded dumb, but I had to ask.
“I think so. I was dreading the end, you know? I was terrified. But it wasn’t what I thought it might be. There was something almost holy about it.” She’d stared into the distance, looking over my shoulder, beyond me. “I’ll never forget it, as long as I live.”
The organist came in now and began playing a soft, somber tune as a few more people trickled into the church. Most of them walked to the front to offer their sympathy to Mark, Sheri and Quinn before they took their seats.
“How’s Quinn?” Tucker’s whisper was more of a low-voice, interrupting my thoughts. The church was so quiet that I was sure everyone could hear us.
I lifted a shoulder. “Hanging in there, I think. Mostly trying to stay strong for Mark and Sheri.”
