“Those poor people,” he said. “Those poor people.”
The last time they entered the Munley Funeral Home together
had been for her mother. Somehow the place looked entirely different.
The walls were whiter than she remembered, the carpet softer. Sailboat
paintings were the only decoration. That cliché metaphor sickened
Rebecca. If there were boats for her mother, she tuned them out. Tissue
boxes in glass cases popped up in every corner.
Rebecca watched her dad carefully. Her dad’s hands grazed over
the glass tissue cases absently. He did not take any tissues. Rebecca saw
the coffin of Silvia, closed, adorned with yellow, orange, white, and
purple flowers. Her dad placed his hand on the small of Rebecca’s back.
This was the last room all three of them were together.
Lacey stood beside Tony, with her straight blonde hair, tiny
breasts, and muscular legs. She held his hand, hardly looking at Rebecca,
like she wasn’t anything to consider.
Tony’s eyes watered slightly but were wide, pleading with Rebecca. She wasn’t sure which would’ve hurt worse, pleading or ignoring.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she told him, moving on to Chloe, Jenn,
and his parents. “I’m sorry.”
Rebecca took one look at the coffin and immediately went outside. The moon shone faintly against the darkening sky, a few stars popping up here and there. She was never going to be again. Orion’s Belt,
The Summer Triangle, constellations were a childish thing to put on your
ceiling. They were cut outs, not real stars.
She thought of Lacey kissing Tony and it hurt. She thought of
her mother and it hurt. Her dad found her, and, placing his hand on her
shoulder, directed her back to their car.
Of all creatures that breathe and move upon the earth, nothing is
bred that is weaker than man.
Rebecca cried the entire way home.
“Shh,” her father said. “It’s okay.”
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