“No worries,” Van assures me. “We just need to stay on task, so we’re not late.”
Typical mom thing to say.
For the next hour, it’s like controlled chaos as we all vie for time in front of a mirror while making sure our outfits are appropriate and that we all look good. By the time we leave Vanessa’s place, the mood is somber. It’s like we’re all afraid to say anything too joyful, so we lean more towards silence for the short drive to the funeral home. It isn’t until we’re parked that Roxie asks, “Are we ready for this?”
“No,” I whisper, my eyes are already stinging with unshed tears.
Vanessa squeezes my hand even as Roxie and Loren reach around from the back seat to hug me. I know they’re all waiting for me to say I’m ready, but the words are stuck in my throat. All this time I knew I was upset about Matt dying, but now I have to actually stand there and see it for myself.
“Say the word and we’ll leave,” Van says quietly. “We’ll text Mrs. Serrano and tell her your flight was delayed or that you got sick or…something. If this is too much for you, we’ve got you, Liv.”
“Text the eulogy to Mike and he’ll give it,” Loren adds. “You know he’d do it for you in a heartbeat.”
“We can go and grab some Mexican food and drink margaritas until we don’t know our own names,” Roxie suggests with a hint of humor. “We’ll eat platters of nachos bigger than our heads and talk about only happy things and just forget all of this.”
I want to say yes to all of it—to driving away, the nachos, the margaritas, every single one of them. But my conscience won’t let me.
Dammit.
The breath I let out is long and shaky, but I’m going to do the right thing.
“I’m okay,” I tell them, but my voice hasn’t gotten the memo. “But after this is over, I want all the nachos and margaritas, okay?”
Everyone agrees as we pile out of the car. I straighten my conservative little black dress and fix my sunglasses that are almost comically large. I left my hair down and between that and the glasses, I’m pretty sure I resemble Cousin Itt from The Addams Family.
And I’m totally fine with that.
We lock arms like we’re playing a game of Red Rover as we walk across the parking lot and even though the support is appreciated, walking like this isn’t practical. Fortunately, no one needs to point this out because once we’re at the door, we go in single file.
The low hum of conversation hits me first and even though I know no one’s looking at me, it feels that way. Like somewhere in the back of my mind, I think everyone’s wondering what I’m doing here or why I would want to be.
Petty people would think I’m here to make sure Matt’s really dead—like it’s just morbid curiosity that had me on a plane flying across the country. While others are probably thinking I never got over him and my grief gave me no choice but to be here.
It’s a little of both, people. A little of both.
We spot Mrs. Serrano sitting up near the front of the room a few feet away from Matt’s casket. People are going to her after they say a prayer for Matt, and I wish I could skip that part and go directly to her. I need a few minutes to get myself together, so I carefully nudge the girls to get in line ahead of me.
There are a lot more people here than I was expecting and we must have been late because the place is full and no one is in line behind me. We keep inching forward, and Loren and Roxie go up together when it’s their turn.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Vanessa whispers.
I shake my head because I’m afraid to speak, and she gives my hand another little squeeze for encouragement.
I sigh quietly as she goes up and I feel more than see someone line up behind me. I’m tempted to turn and tell them to go ahead, but that seems like a weird thing to say considering the circumstances. So I stand there, trembling, and watch as Vanessa turns to speak to Mrs. Serrano.
The guy behind me clears his throat—the equivalent of honking your horn at a traffic light—and I slowly walk over to the casket.
Matt looks…just like Matt. I don’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. His death was sudden—there was no long sickness—so he just looks peaceful.
And that breaks my heart even more.
You were too young, Matteo. Too young for us to be here like this. You know I had these…bad feelings toward you, but I never wanted this. Never wished for this. I’m sorry that you’re gone, and even through all the heartache over the years, I’m glad you were here. Rest easy.
I swear I think I’m fine. I think I’ve said my prayer and that I’m moving away, but I’m not, and I don’t realize that until someone steps up beside me.
“Hey,” they whisper. “Are you okay?”
I’m almost blinded by tears and when I look up, I can’t focus. All I can do is shake my head.
