I pulled down the tight and itchy fabric on Susan’s black dress that I’d borrowed.Combing my messy hair with my fingers made me look ridiculous.Black clothes made me look plain.I had to wear the color of death because it was time to say goodbye to James ...or what was left of him.
Susan and Darren were in charge of inviting everyone to the funeral.My grandma refused to come.She said that no son of hers would do such a thing.I didn’t know if she was talking about him burning her house down or leaving us like he did.I saw it as one less upset person we had to deal with.She would blame my mom anyway.Without James connecting us to my grandma, I doubted she would want us around.James kept everyone together.My grandma wouldn’t be out of much from the fire.She had a lot of stuff, but it wasn’t worth anything.I’d had a lot of things in the bedroom when the house crumbled.Pictures of the summer, clothes I’d cherished, and ceramics I’d made.My grandma had her house back in Butterfield, and due to the circumstances, she would receive an extensive insurance check for the lost cabin.
My sister couldn’t get a flight home in time, so she didn’t attend either.A few townsfolk had already sent in RSVPs, and my friends stayed home from camp to support me.
Susan suggested that we wait to have the funeral for a while, because the number of guests was limited.Postponing the funeral would only prolong the inevitable.It was time, and if people didn’t want to clear their schedules to come, neither would Momma and me.
Darren’s reflection appeared behind me in the mirror.“Are you ready for today?”
“Not really.”
“Well, I have a surprise for you.Jesse Young and The Matches agreed to come to the funeral,” Darren said, trying to lighten the mood.
“That’s nice of them.I figured they would be out of town by now.”It was surprising to hear that James’s favorite band would be at his funeral.I wish he could have met them before he passed away.Perhaps he would still be here if he saw that even famous people could be broken.I struggled not to think about what would have happened if...If I was there.If I’d stayed in the cabin.If I didn’t kiss Darren.If.I should have gone home earlier the night he died.I should have done so many things differently.If I could go back ...I would.Gabriel told me that thinking about what-ifs didn’t help, and yet I asked myself it over and over.
The funeral was held in the local church.I pictured getting married at the Moose Creek church.It had rainbow-colored stained-glass windows, long wooden church pews, and gray carpet that you could dig your toe into while you listened to extended services.It held a sentimental place in my heart.My family rarely attended church, but I occasionally frequented the building after becoming friends with Darren, and something about being in the building made me at ease.
The church was only a couple blocks from the Lawrence’s house, so we walked to the chapel.Darren held my body up while I held my mother.I was moody, yet Darren stayed a constant in my life.He brushed off my indecisiveness while staying calm and collected.Our black attire contrasted with the bright hues of summertime.My mother’s dark, pellucid train waved as we marched to God’s doors.
Gabriel wanted us to get to the church a couple of hours before the ceremony to prepare the tiny details.When we arrived, flowers, cookies, and other goodies were already displayed on the table by the entrance.On an average day, Darren would have devoured the table.Rather than feeding his sweet tooth, he pointed them out by saying, “Isn’t that nice?”
I nodded.Gifts were lovely, but food could not return someone from the dead.My momma needed me to be strong for her that day.
When Betsy arrived, she helped me put marigolds around the podium on which James’s ashes were presented in a red urn.The red urn caught my eye.I had seen it before.I stared at the container, tracing my memories back to my grandma’s wrinkled hands painting it.She didn’t show up, so she had sent her condolences in the only way she knew how: stuff.Although she treated us so poorly, I hoped she would be okay.
I snuck Gabriel the note I wanted him to say during the service and ensured everything was going well.The plan was what kept me sane and was how I dealt with the numbness inside of me.Flowers, check.Speech, check.Check on Momma, check.Guest book?I made Susan add a guest book to the front so people could sign their names and write down their favorite memories about James.Check.
People began to arrive a quarter before the scheduled service.I watched them from behind a privacy curtain.Gabriel said there was no shame in sitting in the secluded area.I knew I should have been the one sitting in the front row displaying my grief so that others would follow.I couldn’t bring myself to put my emotions out there.The curtain was cowardly, but it was what I needed.
Betsy, Thomas, and Zach weren’t allowed to sit with me because of the restricted number of seats behind the curtain.They sat in the pews after they chatted with me for a while.Some people knew exactly what to say when someone dies, but my friends didn’t.They did their best, and that was all I could ask of them.
I couldn’t cry or have a sudden outburst, weep, or talk about my memories with James.I couldn’t feel the sadness I wanted because I wasn’t ready to.My posture was magnificent because I was hardened.
There were even fewer people than I expected.Jesse Young and the Matches had yet to show their faces, but the show had to go on.Gabriel approached the podium, while straightening out his tie.“Thank you to those who have come.Today, we are celebrating the life of James Hartley.James Hartley was a kind and hardworking man.He was born and raised in Moose Creek.He moved to Butterfield when he was a teenager.He worked at a small lumber mill to provide for his family.He is survived by his wife, April Hartley, mother, Harriet Hartley, and his stepdaughters, Penelope Hartley and Breanna Hartley.”
Gabriel made James sound like your ordinary run-of-the-muck middle-aged man.He didn’t talk about how he would lend someone the shirt off his back or his love for music.James was simplified to a man who died and worked.
My momma held a handkerchief that she blew her nose into.Darren sat beside me, allowing me to be tranquil.Gabriel went on a tangent about some bible verse that I was unsure related to the situation.Still, his target audience ate up his preaching, sometimes adding an “amen” after a sentence or phrase he spoke.
“Penelope Hartley wanted me to say that he brought happiness into her mom’s life that she couldn’t give her and that he was the best dad figure she had.She is going to miss him because she already does,” Gabriel said, paraphrasing from my detailed note.He turned my long and beautiful tribute into a blurb.I wanted to scream, but instead, I squeezed Darren’s hand as hard as I could.I let out all of the tension into it, and all he did was gently squeeze my hand back in acceptance.
Warm light seeped in from the outside world when Jesse Young and the Matches stumbled in.My anger disappeared at the sight of them.
“Sorry!I know we are late.Go on!”Jesse drunkenly exclaimed in a black tux as he fumbled into the last row.
Keith grabbed him by the collar to push him into the seat.Keith wore a nice dark gray suit tailored for his long legs.It was the darkest color I had ever seen him pictured in.The Matches had clumpy bags under their eyes.I looked worse, but what did it matter?I could hide.They were always in the public eye.
Tonya and Mason politely smiled at the other guests.
Whispers still traveled through groups about who they were and what they were doing there.I proudly pointed them out to my momma.Even though she wasn’t as big of a fan as James and I were, she liked Jesse Young and The Matches’ music.She hardly acknowledged their attendance.Her eyes remained on the front of the chapel, while she sniffled and wailed.
As the service continued, the guests were asked if they wanted to share something about James.One man stood up and talked about how James was a fine man who helped him mow his grass every summer.A woman described how James complimented her hair whenever my momma cut her hair for her.No one said anything too emotional or descriptive because no one wanted to endure the weight.
Betsy looked toward the curtain before she rose and said, “James was a great father.Every summer, he cared for us girls by cooking us fish or checking in on us to make sure we were having a good time.”She patted her eyes with a tissue and sat down as fast as she stood up.
I wished I could have ran out and thanked her.
Thomas followed his girlfriend’s lead by saying, “James always made me laugh and got me out of my shell.”
