A low rumble of laughter came from the first row, and Alice’s eyes bore into the back of her ex’s head. Of course, when Briar said to laugh, he laughed. Noah was the type of friend who would persist through the most awkward situation, the type of person who never felt awkward anyway. He always had the right reaction, something Alice had at first admired and then come to resent by the end of their relationship.
‘Instead, I’ll tell you a story about her you probably haven’t heard before, because I was the only one who was there. When I was ten years old, I woke up in the middle of the night to a terrible storm. My brother was six and my sisters were four, all of them sleeping soundly.’
She looked at where they sat in the front row, smiling slightly. ‘So, I went and woke my mom, even though I was too old to need comforting at that point. When she was up and understood the situation, she ran around her room like a headless chicken, getting ready, for reasons I didn’t understand, to go out in the middle of a storm. It was a distracting enough sight – my mom not calm and collected, but in crisis – that it immediately made me less afraid of what was going on outside.’ Briar paused, clearing her throat.
‘You might be wondering why she was having a conniption over some rain. Well, it turned out she’d left some of her favorite plants outside of the greenhouse at camp. So in the middle of the night, in the middle of what was basically a hurricane, she got into her truck and took off to save the plants from overwatering.’
There were a few chuckles from the audience, and some nods. Alice watched Briar’s siblings, who appeared just as wrapped up in the story as everyone else. It had been a long time since Alice had seen them together, and she was struck by how easily Briar seemed to replace Susan as the matriarch of the family.
‘And, of course, that is exactly who my mom was. She was someone who would do anything to help those who couldn’t help themselves, who advocated fiercely for trees and plants and campers alike. She wasn’t just a mother to me, River John – RJ – Hazel and Laurel. She was a mother to every living being she encountered. If you’re here because she touched your life’ – Briar looked around the room again – ‘you’re lucky, because you know she would’ve dropped anything to help you. Even in the middle of the night, in the middle of a storm.’
Briar resumed her seat in the front row, and Alice watched as Harper, Noah’s fiancée, reached over to put a tissue in her lap. Harperwoulddo something that was intended to be kind but was actually cruel – the worst thing you could imply about Briar was that she didn’t have her act together.
The feeling of being an outsider, the one she’d been suppressing for the past hour, came back in full force. She loved Freddie and Sierra, they were good kids. But there had been a time when she wouldn’t have been on the other side of the aisle at this funeral, but in that front row. A time, nearly ten years ago now, when she would have belonged there.
Freddie turned to her. ‘How’re you holding up?’
‘I’ve been better.’
Sierra nodded. ‘It’s fucked.’
The funeral director was back at the podium. Alice was getting tired of looking at the sad face of someone who had never met Susan, and she wondered how Briar felt about it.
‘The wake will be across the hall. Please give your best wishes to the family on your way out.’
Yet another obligation for Briar. Maybe this new version of Briar didn’t mind shaking hands with strangers on one of the worst days of her life, but Alice doubted it.
As the audience began to stir, Sierra turned to Alice with a calculating expression. ‘When was the last time you spoke to Briar?’
‘Not in a while,’ Alice said vaguely, shifting from one foot to the other. The funeral home was starting to feel hot, the afternoon sun slanting through the windows now. ‘But Susan and I kept in touch.’
Sierra opened her mouth, doubtless with another question, but Freddie shut her down. Alice watched the Elwood family make their way to the back doors, vaguely listening to Freddie explain to Sierra that actually it was a very sensitive topic for Alice, as she’d been through a tough break-up before university and Briar had taken her ex’s side. Which, if well-meaning, wasn’t exactly the truth. She’d never talked with Freddie about what had happened – theirs was the sort of relationship where Alice knew every detail of his life and he knew the scant outlines of hers. It seemed he’d concocted a story in his head that painted her in the most flattering light. Well, it was no wonder he’d stayed her friend, then.
‘What’s happening with camp?’ Alice asked abruptly, looking away from where Briar was shaking an elderly woman’s hand. ‘Did they find someone to run it with only two weeks to go?’
‘Well, sort of,’ Freddie said. ‘Briar volunteered before there could really be any discussion.’
‘Briar?’ Alice echoed, not knowing why she was surprised. Of course it would be Briar to continue her mother’s legacy. She had gone to the camp her whole life, had been a counselor, knew the land better than anyone.
Still, Briar had a life in DC. Alice had watched it online over the years: Briar with Noah and Harper, her coworkers at the bar, a boyfriend or girlfriend featured sporadically. Most people couldn’t pack everything up for a summer. Most people wouldn’t isolate themselves in the woods with a bunch of screaming children right after their mother’s sudden and untimely death. But most people weren’t Briar. That was a lesson Alice had learned the hard way.
‘I tried to tell her it wasn’t a good idea, but she wouldn’t listen,’ Sierra said. ‘Freddie and I offered to be her assistant directors, so she’ll have help. But still…’
The memories alone would’ve been enough to drive Alice away. But maybe Briar was onto something – Alice’s instincts had ended with her stranded across an ocean from everyone she loved. Surely that wasn’t the healthiest approach to loss. Still, even though she knew Briar would hate her pity, she worried about her spending the summer in a place where she would feel Susan everywhere.
She watched as Briar shook hands with their old biology teacher, unsure if she imagined the slight recoil in response to whatever words of comfort he’d attempted to provide.
Briar would be in Virginia, at their old camp, all summer. It was the place Alice loved most in the world, and a place she hadn’t been back to since she’d left for St Andrews. After a decade of not setting foot on American soil, Alice found she couldn’t quite remember the feeling of standing in the woods at Camp Lakeside anymore, a memory she hadn’t thought it possible to lose.
‘When are you back to London?’ Freddie asked as the three of them joined the throng headed for the door.
‘The day after tomorrow,’ Alice said, adjusting her collar self-consciously at the thought of Briar seeing her in person for the first time in years. She was immediately ashamed of her vanity, knowing that Briar had far more important things on her mind and wouldn’t spare a thought for Alice or her collar.
She’d considered not coming to the funeral at all, unsure if her being there would make things worse. But Susan had asked her to speak, and ultimately Alice knew that Briar had moved on.
‘Back to the lab?’ Freddie asked, in an overly-patient tone that made it sound like he’d asked the question once already and been ignored.
She shook her head rapidly. ‘No, not until the fall.’
