“Sorry.” He swallowed, rubbing the left side of his chest as he looked to the front. When his hand dropped back into his lap, I studied the fine lines in his knuckles, the squared tips of his nails and the curl of his fingers, imagining mine wound through them, until he folded his arms, readjusting his seat.
I sat back then and listened to the eulogies given by Nathan’s family and friends; each person passed by his coffin afterward and dropped a rose inside. I closed my eyes; from all the way up the back, I couldn’t see Nathan in that box unless I angled my face the right way. Mum and Harry had closed caskets. I don’t think I’d have coped with seeing their faces, so still, so devoid of life. Just seeing Harry’s tiny coffin beside Mum’s was enough to haunt me forever. It seemed funny how, no matter how big you thought someone was in life, when you lay them down, with six sides wrapping them tightly, they just look so small. It wasn’t right to see a coffin that small.
David moved his hand onto mine and squeezed firmly. “Just don’t think about it, Ara.”
I turned my head to look at him; he kept his eyes forward.
“Nathan was, and will always be a well-respected and much loved friend.” I tuned in to the voice of Emily, standing up at the front, reading from a stack of palm cards. “He was there to give advice or a quick word of encouragement to anyone—be they a jock, a chess geek, a cheer girl, or even a kid he didn’t know.
“Nathan was the guy we all expected to see graduate with honours, make the national football league, marry the prom queen.” Emily smiled then, looking down. “Death is sad in any case, but when it comes so suddenly and takes the life of someone who had so much to offer the world, who never had the chance, it truly is tragic.” She stepped down and placed the cards inside the casket. “We’ll all miss you, Nathe. Rest in peace.”
David’s hand tightened on mine, and a single cool drop fell between our palms; I looked up and saw him nodding, breathing out slowly through parted lips.
“David?”
He sniffed and shook his head, wiping a line of moisture from his chin.
“It’s okay,” I said, squeezing his hand back.
The grey sky opened up as we stepped outside the church, and the cool breeze eased the trapping tension of my own sorrows—sorrows I had no right to bring with me to the farewell of another. Small droplets of rain began to sprinkle over the black hearse while David and a group of boys from the football team carried the pine box and slid it into the back.
“You okay, honey?” Dad whispered in my ear.
“Mm-hm.” I nodded.
“You look pale.”
“I could take her home?” David offered quietly, popping up beside me.
“I’m fine,” I scolded, moving swiftly away to stand among the crowd.
David walked by the hearse with the other pallbearers, leading the procession line through the church gates and into the cemetery. Each headstone we passed displayed names, dates, flowers, some even pictures of those who laid beneath—every little detail showing the life they once belonged to. I closed my eyes and let the darkness narrow me in, the sobs of huddled mourners around me guiding my blind footsteps until a hand grabbed my arm. My eyes flashed open to David’s face. “Don’t walk with your eyes closed,” he said, “It’s dangerous.”
Hmph! I tucked my cold, shaking hands into my elbows, and David walked away—back to his place beside the black car. When a loud grumble rolled across the darkening sky, everyone looked up—squinting against the white sun until a cloud shadowed its glare. Icy patters of rain came down again, and little black umbrellas popped up all around me. I folded over ever so slightly, remembering how the uninvited rain ruined my last chance to farewell my family—how it blinded me, made me so cold and so wet I had to fight with myself to stay. I hoped it wouldn’t do the same to Nathan’s family.
“Are you okay, dear?” A skeletally-haggard old lady reached her hand toward me.
I nodded, taking a step away when a long, firm arm scooped my waist and pulled me under the shelter of a black canopy. “She’s fine.” David’s silky voice hummed through the top of my head. “She’s with me.”
“Okay.” The old lady smiled at David, but when she looked at me, her eyes narrowed.
“Aren’t you supposed to be up front?” I asked, craning my neck to look up at him.
He winked at me, a smile warming his face. “I thought you might need some shelter.”
I pushed his arm from around my waist. “I was fine. I don’t need you to shelter me.” Only I did—so, so badly it hurt just to stand this close to him.
“Oh, um. I’m sorry.” He placed the umbrella in my hand, squeezing my fingers around the handle before stepping back into the rain.
“Wait, David—” I reached out, but he strolled away too quickly, disappearing into the mist as the congregation dispersed suddenly, forming a semi-circle around a hole in the ground.
I scanned the crowd for my dad or Vicki, finding them beside the priest.
The rain came down harder then, making my ears feel blocked with its noisy pattering. Droplets of cold water splashed up onto my shoes, wetting my toes, while we stood around and waited for the boys to position the pine box above the ground.
The priest readied himself, straightening the cloth over his shoulders while an altar boy tipped and swayed, standing on his toes to keep an umbrella over the man. “Friends and family—”
The rain stopped abruptly and all eyes cast to the heavens for a moment as umbrellas closed, like flowers at dusk, all around me. I leaned the umbrella David gave me against a nearby headstone and folded my arms over my chest.
As the priest began again, Dad wrapped his arm around Mrs Rossi and cast a quick glance at me; I smiled reassuringly. On the outside, I knew I looked strong, but inside, my heart was pouring like the rain passed, and my arms felt weak, like the blood was too thick to pump smoothly through my veins. The pressure of all the grieving people was starting to penetrate my emotional wall, and when I looked at Nathan’s mother—crying her heart out for her only child—the memory of Harry came flooding back to the surface with vengeance. My hunger gave way to the green ogre, making my chest quiver as I fought to suppress the grief. But it was just no good—all I saw was myself, in place of Mrs Rossi. I remembered how much it hurt to say goodbye. I knew what she felt, knew I couldn’t help her, because nothing anyone said would ever make the pain go away.