Blurred (Connections, #3.5)(3)

Caleb, my best friend since I was seven, and really the only friend I have left, is the last person to enter the church and he takes a seat beside me, squeezing my shoulder as he does.

“You doing okay, man?” he asks.

I look over at him and nod. I’m thankful there’s one person in my life that never judges me. He might get pissed at me, we might toss each other around, but he’s like a brother to me and I know he’ll always have my back. He has ever since the second grade—we were in Miss Novak’s class and I was staring out the window, just wanting to be out there, not stuck inside. She had asked me a question that I didn’t hear. He jabbed my foot and muttered the answer. I nodded my head and answered her. After that we were buddies.

I force myself to focus my attention on what’s happening at the front of the church.

“Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted.” When I hear those words I automatically turn to look for Dahl. The memories of those words and sitting beside her to comfort her when she lost her parents and her uncle send another wave of sadness through my body.

There’s a softness in her eyes I wasn’t expecting as she catches my gaze for a minute. Despite the physical and emotional distance between us, and the hatred I know she feels toward me, I find comfort in her being here. But it’s a double-edged sword and I quickly turn back around. She was always a part of my family, but that family has been forever shattered—my mother is gone, Trent is in rehab, and Dahl, well, she’s no longer mine.

“Friends, as we gather here . . .” The words are muffled as I bow my head and close my eyes trying not to think about my mother lying cold and lifeless in the front of the church. She had passed without receiving the sacrament of last rites. But the good Catholic boy that I was brought up to be, I couldn’t let her go like that. I stepped out of the hospital room after she passed to go find the clergy but saw Dahl out in the rain. I went to check on her, but she didn’t need me and so from there I continued my journey toward the chapel to ask that my mother be anointed so as to ensure her passage into Heaven. Not that she would ever have ended up anywhere else. No, that was for me to worry about, not my beautiful mother.

Soft organ music plays and I open my eyes to stand. When it stops, we all sit. The priest begins reciting the Final Commendation and Farewell and I move through the rest of the funeral in the only way I can . . . mechanically and distanced. The organ starts to play again and this time when we all stand, I hold my sister’s hand. When I do, I notice her ex-husband sitting next to her and my skin prickles. Jason Holt, Caleb’s brother and my sister’s ex-husband, is a dirt bag. No matter what he does, he always will be. Once my sister divorced him, his visits with Trent were minimal. His goal was always to see my sister through their kid. I don’t care how far he climbs the ladder at work—to me he’s a piece of shit.

I tug my sister’s hand and start to lead her out of the pew. I step in front of her and Jason moves aside, allowing us to pass. He’s a tall, well-built guy used to demanding respect wherever he goes, so I’m surprised he lets me take the lead. I walk slowly to the front as we make our way to say our final goodbyes. Serena goes first and I stand back, twisting my head, unable to watch. But my turn comes way too fast. Cautiously, I approach the white casket. I can see my mother’s body and wish so much she were alive. My hands clench and unclench at my sides and I take a deep breath as I bow my head. My knees buckle beneath me and I don’t know how I’m going to make it without her. I can’t even find the right words to tell her how sorry I am that we didn’t get to spend the last years of her life together. I swallow, holding back the tears that I’ve forced away for days.

Voices murmur from behind me. “Ben,” my sister whispers quietly in my ear.

Ignoring her, I drop down even further to kiss my mother’s cheek. When I lift my head, I catch sight of her wedding ring shining so brightly and clutch her hand. Fuck, why? Why you, Mom? My sister takes my hand, and this time she’s the one who tugs me away and back into the pew.

“Mom and Dad are together now,” she says in a broken voice.

“I know,” I say, and then my tears come in mindless streams that I can’t control. And she’s right. My only solace in any of this is that our parents are finally back together and I know they’ll take care of each other.

“Come on, buddy,” Caleb says, pressing his hand on my shoulder again. I glance up front one last time and turn back with a feeling of complete emptiness. This time I let Caleb lead the way, guiding my sister and me out of the church. I don’t turn to look for Dahl because I know this time she doesn’t need me; she has someone to take care of her and I am strangely at peace with that.

Time seems to speed by and the funeral is over before I even realize we’ve moved from the church to the cemetery. I loosen my tie and look around. Branches of a Redwood block the brightness of the sun. I tilt my head to try to catch any shape of a cloud, but all I see is broken fragments of the sky. Swiveling my gaze, I notice the limo is parked just a few feet away. Caleb and Jason are inside waiting for us with the door open. I glance around and suddenly notice everyone else has left. I vaguely recall handshakes and soft-spoken words of condolence. I watch my sister as we both stay frozen in place, two orphans mourning the death of our mother. Then my eyes dart to the ground where our mother’s casket has just been lowered into her grave. And I feel it: grief.