“This young lady right here was your big sibling’s partner. They were very much in love.” Dean Reithart’s dark eyes flash with pride.
The girl waves her greeting at me, and I feel as if I could keel over. I was supposed to meet her with Phantom by my side.
In my peripheral vision, I notice Phantom’s parents staring at us, but they don’t approach. They’re both raven-haired with light eyes, their gazes harsh and calculating. I don’t feel an ounce of warmth coming off them.
“Hi. My name’s Maeve,” I say to Phantom’s sister, doing my very best to shake off the lingering gazes of her parents. “What’s your name?”
“Ellen,” she offers in a high-pitched voice.
I smile after her as she runs back to her parents and they take their seats in the front row. It’s only then that I notice Gerry, standing next to a row of pews farther back. Dean Reithart and I drift over to him.
“Carol,” Gerry says. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Phantom was a light in the darkness, even if they could never quite see it themself.”
Dean Reithart dips her chin. “Thank you, Gerry. I know Phantom would be glad you’re here.”
“They were a light,” I murmur, drawing their attention. “Thank you. For seeing.”
Gerry takes my hand in his. His skin is mottled with sun spots and paper thin, but it’s warm and reassuring in mine. “Because we did, we’re the lucky ones, aren’t we?”
I can’t speak through the knot of emotion, so instead I nod.We were so very lucky.
A few minutes after we take our seats, a pastor enters and begins the service. Dean Reithart hands me and Gerry a service pamphlet. I read it, then flip it over.
“Why isn’t Phantom’s legal name printed anywhere on the pamphlet?” I ask Dean Reithart in a whisper.
“They disowned their given name years ago. It would’ve been an insult to their memory to use it,” she replies in a hushed tone.
I nod, though I know it doesn’t matter anyway. They’ll always be Phantom to me.
The service is short and sweet, exactly as Phantom would have wanted. A true celebration of their life.
As we exit the funeral home, I say, “The service really was lovely.”
“Bye, Maeve,” Ellen calls to me as she climbs into the backseat of her parents’ car across the parking lot.
“Bye,” I reply with a wave and a grin.
“Their last painting was their best, you know,” Dean Reithart comments as we begin to part ways.
“I know.”
“You painted it together?”
“Yes.” My chest constricts enough to suffocate me.
“It’s a true masterpiece.”
“Yes, it really is,” I agree.
But I don’t mean the painting itself; I mean what the painting represents. I meanus. Phantom and me. We were the masterpiece.
Epilogue
Five Years Later
Pain is just another pigment in the painting of life, and over time I’ve learned how to appreciate its place in the greater picture. Without pain, joy doesn’t shine as bright.
A large canvas balanced precariously in his arms, Noah asks with a grunt, “Maeve, where do you want this one hung up?”
