Real Bad Things(29)

For all she knew, he could have someone locked in his basement with a bucket and a bottle of lotion.

She noticed his foot tapping urgently out of the corner of her eye. The rest of his body, still. Maybe he had a prescription to help with his constant need to move. Or maybe he’d just been able to shake out most of the nerves that had plagued him in his youth. Most. Not all.

She shifted her attention away from him and returned to Chuck’s eulogy, but that didn’t last long. Her tolerance for religion and platitudes had always been low. That was one thing she was grateful for: an absence of religious family members to shame or scorn her. A feat for a queer girl in the Bible Belt.

Such an odd thing, burial. Preserving a body in a casket. And for what? The earthworms and microorganisms to applaud? Seemed like a waste of time and money. And the flowers. There weren’t many, and they were from Sam’s Club instead of one of the many florists they’d visited, but Diane had insisted on some even though Jane could picture Warren throwing them at the wall. Probably could resurrect an actual memory if she had the energy to go spelunking into personal trauma. Instead, she watched a couple of birds frolic in the trees. Or maybe they were fighting. Who even knew? Probably some bird scientist who’d been nurtured as a child and could spend their life on such questions instead of trying to shake off the indignities of a bullshit upbringing.

Diane kept looking behind her, a stare fixed on someone. And something else. Some look on her face. Jane twisted in her seat to see a handful of random men in the back row that Jane guessed had been Warren’s friends. One guy looked familiar, but Jane couldn’t place him. Maybe she’d gone to high school with him. Or he ran commercials on the local station for his car lot or something. When Jane focused on him, he looked away.

After the fourth time Diane glanced behind her to look at the men, Jane whispered, “Are you flirting at a funeral?”

“No.” Diane ripped her focus away from them. But Jane thought she’d heard a crack in Diane’s voice. She’d only ever let her guard down briefly before putting it back up the second someone might’ve discovered a way past her barrier.

“Then why—?”

“Pay attention.”

“That’s fucking rich,” Jane muttered.

Jason sat quietly next to them, either oblivious to their movements or ignoring them. Probably the latter. She caught the last generic words out of Chuck’s mouth as the coffin finally, blessedly entered its eternal resting state.

As soon as the last prayer ended, Diane rushed out of her hard chair and nearly knocked Jason out of his in the process of trying to get to him. He gathered his composure and waited for her to speak. Jane selfishly relished their discomfort around each other. Whenever Jane had ranted against Diane for something or other, Jason had countered she wasn’t all bad. He said he remembered Good Mom, the one who came before Bad Mom. Good Mom took him for ice cream, tried to help him with homework, watched action movies with him on the couch. Jane had dug around in her mind but couldn’t hook any of those descriptions to a memory. Maybe Jason’s memory had finally hooked into reality.

“We should get something to eat,” Diane said. “The three of us.” Perhaps remembering some motherly instinct, Diane patted Jason’s arm as if he was in need of consolation. Diane stole a look at Jane. “Might be the last time.”

Jane’s stomach plunged at the dissonance of her inclusion and then her exclusion. Her “last supper” on the outside could come at any time. Maybe Benjamin waited by the cemetery entrance.

As he’d done since he walked up to her, Jason avoided looking at Jane directly, his eyes cast downward or to the side. That cement smile returned, his hands revealing an imminent apology. “I’d love to, but I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on.”

Diane grabbed Jason by the arm. He glanced at her hand. She let go.

Jane understood why he withdrew from Diane, but she couldn’t help but wonder what she’d done to get her lumped in with Diane. Diane had smothered Jason with attention, like some heir to the throne. Always keeping an eye on him, always ensuring he was by her side. Stealing him sweets from the liquor store. Jason consuming them before Jane returned home from a friend’s house or her shifts at Family Fun. The evidence all over their room. Sucker and candy bar wrappers. Jane had been so angry at the time. At Diane. At him.

Maybe Diane felt bad for whatever had happened to Jason as a kid that had made him sullen. Still, Jane would’ve saved a candy bar for him. She would’ve shared half. She would have sacrificed everything for him. She did sacrifice everything for him. She’d confessed to murder for him.

Was it guilt or indifference that kept him at arm’s length? She hoped it was the former rather than the latter. She tried to imagine herself in his shoes. She wouldn’t have an easy time with it either. She’d probably feel terrible. She’d probably avoid him, even though she didn’t want that from him. Maybe he didn’t want to associate with either of them anymore. They were both reminders of a life he had outgrown.

But she knew Jason. It’d be best to let him come around to her on his own. She would wait. At least she’d seen him today, the ice broken. And she’d been on her best behavior. She hadn’t made any false moves. The day could end without incident, and then maybe Jason would feel it was okay to talk to her and she could get rid of her anxiety as well.