My feet feel heavier with every step toward the front of the church. Every cough, sniffle, and whisper I hear as I walk up the aisle grates onevery nerve I have left. It doesn’t feel natural to see Tanya so still. The woman was in constant motion, always searching for her next great adventure. I don’t know who decided to dress her in the hot pink dress draped over her body. Knowing her, she probably arranged it herself; whether to unsettle attendees or not is anyone’s guess. But, without her boisterous energy as the final accessory, the outfit loses its charm, instead serving as the cruel reminder that she’s really gone.
Needing to ground myself, I turn to Dani. Not an inch of skin is showing on her body, yet when my palm touches the small of her back, a wave of heat hits my spine. “Dani,” I whisper. Her body remains perfectly still, and with her shades on, I can’t even tell if she heard me.
I start to say her name one more time when words finally fall from her lips. “I was at brunch.” Her voice is hoarse, as if she hasn’t spoken in days, so I lean closer to ensure I heard her right.
“What?”
Finally, she turns her body toward me. “That’s where I was when I got the email,” she says, lowering her sunglasses just enough for me to see her bloodshot eyes. The pain etched across her features makes me want to pull her into me, but I drop my hands to my sides instead. “I was at brunch with the girls.”
She must have gotten the same email from Mr. Townsend that I did. “I was at the gallery laughing with Bailey,” I offer, hoping the answer can somehow assuage any guilt she might be feeling.
She tilts her head as if really seeing me for the first time. “I didn’t even know she was sick. Did you know?”
There’s a plea in her voice. An anguished prayer that she’s not alone, that she wasn’t the only one robbed of her chance to say goodbye.
“I didn’t know. I would’ve told you.” Whether she wanted to pretend the connection between us was invisible or not, I would’ve never hid this from her.
Her chin drops to her chest, the tension slowly leaving her shoulders. The pastor makes his way to the podium, signaling that the service is about to begin.
Despite the attendees, the service is pleasant. Dani and I shared a moment of levity when the slideshow of Tanya heavily featured the two of us but not a single other person here today. Only Tanya would manage one finalfuck youfrom beyond the grave.
Tanya is being cremated, so there’s no procession to any burial site, and to my knowledge, no one is hosting a repast, so it’s just … over.
I step outside and put my hand up to block the sun’s unforgiving rays. Everyone files out of the church, seemingly content with going back to their lives. I have no desire to do that.
Without a word, Dani and I migrate so that we’re standing side by side, facing the street. I don’t think Dani sought me out consciously. Like me, she’s seeking stillness among the chaos. Trying to find a path back to normalcy, whatever that looks like now.
Whenever I experienced a loss this great, it was Tanya who saved me from my own recklessness. Loss has driven me to act so far out of my character I didn’t recognize myself. I treated the world like it didn’t matter.
Who is going to save me now that she’s the one who’s lost? Do I even want to be saved?
We stand there until there’s virtually no one left in the parking lot. The threads of grief binding us unravel with every car that pulls off. Dani hides it well, but I can feel her calm demeanor shifting to a base instinct to flee.
She turns to do just that, but her path is blocked by an older Black man of average height in a black suit. His hair is mostly white, while his beard and mustache are salt-and-pepper. His hooded eyes don’t lookunkind, just serious. Before he can speak to her, I position myself in front of Dani.
He looks back and forth between us, his mouth muscles twitching but never quite reaching a smile.
Clearing his throat, he focuses his attention on me. “Mr. Wright”—then on Dani—“Ms. Jenkins. My name is Victor Townsend. I emailed the two of you.”
Recognition hits both of us, and we each shake his hand.
“Thank you for coming,” he says.
“Of course,” I respond.
“Yes, well, I’m just glad we were informed about it before it was too late,” Dani adds.
I turn to look at her, finding her brows knitted together and her gaze set on Mr. Townsend. Her anger is misplaced, but damn if I’ll tell her that. I turn back to Mr. Townsend, folding my arms against my chest.
“Right. Here’s my card. It has my office address on it.” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out two business cards, and extends them to us. “Would you both be able to head there now for the reading of the will?”
“Right now?” I ask.
“Correct.”
There’s nothing in Tanya’s will I want. What I want is something I can never have again. I can never call her for advice, open my email to find artists and events she recommends, or get my ass whooped in chess on random visits. Her will won’t bring her back, so it’s pointless to me, but clearly there’s something she wants me to have, so I agree to come.
Mr. Townsend looks to Dani for confirmation, and based on the resolve that takes over his features, he must get it. He gives us both a stern nod and heads off to his car.
