“Why would you think that?”
“The roses. Grace said?—”
“That was my grandmother.”
“But—”
“Brie. I can’t be late.”
I slam the door and march across the forecourt. Like an idiot, I assume he’ll come after me and make me feel better, but by the time I turn around, he’s already driving away.
I grab a coffee from the gas station and drink it out front. Maybe I should do the same. Just leave without saying goodbye. But as I calm down, I try to put myself in Bradley’s shoes. He was married for years and committed an insane act of violence on my behalf. Now, he has to face the reality of what he’s done, and do it in front of Grace’s siblings and cousins. In front of God, too.
I order a taxi from the app and wait.
It takes approximatelyten minutes to realize what a mistake I’ve made. The church is full, and because I loitered outside before coming in, there are no seats available. I have to stand at the back. Almost as soon as I’m inside, the pastor begins to speak.
“Grace Frost was born in Houston thirty-nine years ago to Robert and Jane Frost. Siblings Margaret and David would soon follow. Her family and friends describe Grace as a quiet but mischievous child who was obsessed with her younger siblings, especially Margaret. She enjoyed an ideal childhood playing in their backyard, running through the suburban streets, surrounded by family.”
As the door opens in the back of the church to let in another latecomer, the hinges squeak, and a handful of people turn around. After they take in the newcomer, I feel some of their eyes drift to me.
The pastor continues.
“Unfortunately, tragedy struck this family when Grace was fourteen. She lost her sister in a plane crash and spent the rest of her teenage years at Queen Anne’s Boarding School while her parents tried to recover their lives.”
As he speaks, I feel my heart begin to race. We killed her. If they turn around, will they see that written on my face?
How could they not?
“Grace made many friends at Queen Anne’s, including Tina and Sarah, who travelled from the East Coast to be with us here today. Welcome.”
We killed her.
“After graduating high schoolsumma cum laude,Grace made the surprise decision to attend the university in Washington. She quickly stood out as a remarkably talented young writer.”
We killed her.
I can see the rock crack into her skull.
Her body falls.
“Professors at the time described her as a generational talent. One of her TAs in particular, Bradley Little, championed Grace. He would go on to marry Grace three years later.”
Why can’t they see it written on his face? Why can’t they feel the presence of evil in the room?
I have to go before he starts talking about God. I can’t bear it anymore. I don’t want to know about her successful novel, their happy life in the woods, their friends. I want to forget that I ever heard the name Grace Frost.
Just then, the door opens, and people turn around. I try to ignore them, but one stands out. The one person I didn’t want to see.
Jesse. He’s sitting near the back, and when he turns to look at me, I see that his eyes are red. But he doesn’t look sad. Not entirely, anyway.
To me, the primary emotion on his face is fury.
I turn, stride towards the back door, and push into the sunlight. I can’t be around these people. I’m reaching for my phone to order a taxi when I hear an angry voice behind me.
“Youghoul!”
Jesse is pointing at me, his voice loud and clear. I wonder if they can hear him inside the church.
