“Just when we started getting along,” she said. “I should have let her win at poker. I’m going to miss that crazy, wonderful bitch.”
I chuckled through the tears. They were really alike. I wish they had met sooner. It was good to feel that there was someone here who shared the loss of Vi, not as a patient or neighbor, but as a friend.
“Let me know you’re okay,”read the message I found when I took out my phone.
“I am. What about you?”
“Still here.”
“Please don’t leave yet,” I typed.
He hadn’t said he was leaving, but I had noticed the pattern. Even if all we had was a painful past, and the dead optimist in me was telling me that we had no future, then I wanted at least to define our no-label present.
I went to June’s that evening. When I told her about Vi, she hugged me for a long moment then offered we’d make dinner and spend the evening together in whatever way I wanted. I asked her to choose a movie that would take my mind away, and she chose a romantic comedy, which by itself surprised me because June the Prune wasn’t the romantic type. But I liked her choice ofGreen Card, and it was oddly comforting to be with my sister.
Two busy days later, we said goodbye to Vi at the local funeral hall.
I had arranged everything, but when I arrived, the manager looked oddly cheerful.
“There’s something I want you to see,” he said, escorting me from the entrance.
The view that welcomed me as I entered the hall took my breath away. Violets everywhere.
Small, large, and medium flower arrangements, gorgeous ones of violets and every shade of purple flowers were scattered around on special stands, on windowsills, along the stage, next to each bench, and on the podium I wasn’t going to use because Vi had said “no eulogy.”
“It arrived this morning,” the man, who I forgot was standing next to me, said.
I knew who it was from. There was only one person I could think of who was capable of and would care enough to do this.
But that man didn’t want me to love him as he deserved, refused to love me back, and tried to push me away even when it was obvious he wanted me.
“Hey, January,” Sylvie and Amarilys came up behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Wow! You did all this?” Amarilys asked, swiping her arm across the flower-filled space.
“No. It’s … a friend.” I turned around to avoid further questions and welcomed the residents who walked or were escorted in—Sue, Charlie, and several others.
“Great music,” Charlie said when the Rolling Stones playlist I had prepared started playing in the background.
“A full minibus!” Sue exclaimed quietly when she stopped next to me. “I think they wanted to make sure she’s really dead,” she whispered and winked at me.
“Oh, they liked her. Most people liked her secretly,” I whispered back.
It made me think of Oliver in school; how people had kept a distance from him but secretly admired him.
A sharp pang flickered in me. Not a pang of regret, despite Oliver’s warning that I’d regret him. No. I didn’t regret it, or him. I missed him.
I have nothing to give back, I remembered his words.
My mom and sisters arrived soon after. I hugged them, and we all took a seat at the front.
The ceremony wasn’t long. I stayed true to Vi’s requests, but at the last moment, I went up to the podium right before Ruby Tuesday began to play. “Like the girl in the song Vi asked to play, no one could hang a name on Vi. And if there was anyone who caught their dreams before they slipped away, it was her. I miss you, Vi. I hope you’re rocking it up there, seventies style.”
Through the blur of tears, I saw Oliver, sitting alone on the last bench at the back. He gave me a small smile and a single nod.
I hoped I smiled, too, when I went back to my seat at the front.
When the ceremony was over, he was gone. I looked around but couldn’t see him anywhere. Just like back then, in the ninth grade, he had given me the quiet support that I didn’t know I needed.
