Sam briefly touches the small of my back and steps away. His absence is jolting. I watch him walk over to a box of tissues on a side table. He picks up the container and brings it over to me.Why do I feel like I can’t breathe without him being near me?
I shouldn’t be feeling like this. Not when we haven’t spoken or seen each other in so long. Sam feels like home. It feels like we’ve never skipped a beat, even with the distance I forced on us.
Trying to avoid the feelings Sam is stirring in me today, I look at Talia. “When did you get into town?”
She looks a little embarrassed as her cheeks flush slightly. “Actually, last night.” I cock my head to the side, about to protest when she hurries on to explain, “I wanted to be here for you and Livie, but I also knew how important it was for you both to have some time together.”
Talia has always been incredibly thoughtful of everyone. It's as if she has a crystal-clear understanding of what people need and when they need it. She reminds me of Mom in all the best ways. This is probably why I like her so much.
“Thanks. You're right, I did need that. But I wish you didn’t feel like you had to stay away.”
Just then, an usher walks out into the hall and quietly invites everyone into the room where the service will take place.
I look up at Sam, and he gestures for me to walk with him. We make our way to the front, where the family and close friends are supposed to sit. My parents are already there, next to Dan, in the front row.
As we get past some of the people standing in the aisle, I notice the casket at the front of the room.
My heart drops and my body freezes.
I can’t take another step forward.
Mom always thought it was strange to have an open casket because the person never really looks quite like they were supposed to.
So, it isn’t a surprise that Ethan’s casket is closed. It’s just devastating to see it here and know that Ethan’s body is in there. I don't notice I am crying again until Sam hands me another tissue from the box he still carries.
He steps towards me, places his hand on my arm, and whispers in my ear, “We can go back out, if you want.” Looking up at his soft, chocolate brown eyes, I shake my head no.
“Will you—” It comes out gravelly. I clear my throat and try again, “will you sit with me?” I feel too vulnerable right now. Too raw. I’m not sure I can move forward if he says no.
Thankfully, Sam doesn’t hesitate before he grabs my hand. “Always,” he says as he looks into my eyes and brings my hand to his lips. He places a small kiss on the back.
Gently, Sam leads me to the row opposite my parents, which is now full, and guides me to take the seat next to him. Liv sits on my other side, Talia next to her.
I can’t stop staring at that damn casket, knowing my big brother isn’t coming back. Knowing I can’t stop my mind from replaying that last phone call.Did I say I love you?
I try to listen to everyone who speaks at the service, but everything sounds garbled, like the adults on the Peanuts cartoons. I’m vaguely aware of the priest finishing his sermon and other people standing up and speaking, but it isn’t until Sam squeezes my hand that I pull my gaze from the casket.
I look up at him and furrow my brows.
Answering my silent question, he leans in and whispers in my ear. “Your mom asked if I would say a few words, so I’m going to let go of your hand and go up there.” I feel my panic rising, which he must notice in my expression, because he quickly adds, “I won’t be gone long, and Livie is going to hold your hand for me until I get back.”
He looks over my shoulder at Liv sitting on my other side. Sam nods once before I feel her arm come around me, pulling me into her side. Sam lets go of my hand and walks to the front. Liv takes my now free hand with her opposite one.
I stare at Sam as he walks away—this man who used to be the boy who was always at my house. This man, who used to tease me about how many books I read each summer. This man, who meant everything to my brother. Who meant everything to me. Whomeanseverything to me. I can’t stop looking at him.
He clears his throat, and when he starts speaking, his voice is husky but confident.
“Ethan was more than my best friend. He was my brother in so many ways. His absence will be a hole I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fill.” He pauses, and I can see he’s taking a breath—composing himself. He glances down. Only then do I see he’s holding paper, his notes.
Sam looks back up when he speaks again, “I know he’d be mad at me if I spent this time being sad about him and talking to you allabout how much I’m going to miss him.” He gives the room a timid smile.
“So instead,” he continues, “I want to share some stories about my friend that you probably haven’t heard. We’re going to celebrate who he was instead of being sad.” He speaks slowly but with confidence.
“Most of you know that Ethan and I were inseparable as kids. We did everything together, from learning to surf, figuring out how to flirt with girls, to participating in track. We got into a lot of trouble, too. I’m not sure which of us was the bad influence. Probably both of us. Wedefinitelyencouraged each other a lot.
“Like that time that we collected a bunch of road hazard cones and left them in Sarah and George’s front yard.” He looks over at my parents, looking remorseful. I hear Dad mutter something, but I can’t make out what it is. He’s shaking his head like a huge puzzle piece just clicked into place for him. Sam chuckles lightly.
“I can’t remember why we decided it would be a good idea. But I can tell you that we laughed so hard when we saw you come home trying to figure out why you had thirty cones in the yard.” He chuckles again, and several people in the crowd join in the laughter. I feel Liv’s body shake with her silent laugh, too. A small smile is all I can muster.
