The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek(60)

Pastor Mitchell walked to the podium, his George Michael beard looking especially well trimmed. “We are gathered here today to honor and celebrate the life of Alicia Michelle Boykins,” he said. “A vibrant soul who we’ve lost too soon. Far too soon.”

That was it for Leif. He quickly joined the rank of the criers, barely able to pay attention to a thing Pastor Mitchell was saying. Or what Bill Boykins was saying after him. (“All we wanted was to protect our Alicia. Keep her safe. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter…”) Or Melissa Boykins next. (“She was my hero. She’ll always be my hero.”) Or Alicia’s New Agey aunt from Oregon after her. (“Do you feel Alicia’s energy in the room right now? Because I sure do!”) He didn’t even realize that Pastor Mitchell had asked if anyone else would like to share a few words until Rex was standing and gently nudging him, saying, “Hey, we’re still doing this, right?”

They’d decided beforehand that they would go up and say some meaningful things about Alicia, but now Leif worried he’d be crying too hard to speak. He had to get up there with Rex, though. It was the least he could do.

When they arrived at the podium, Rex made eye contact with Whitewood, who returned a kind smile. Rex didn’t smile back.

Leif stared out at all the people crowded into the room, devastated that Alicia had exited this world being so misunderstood by so many in Bleak Creek. She would forever be remembered as a troublemaker whose bad decisions had resulted in her own death, all because of something that he knew was largely his and Rex’s fault. It hit him that he should say something to change their minds. To help them remember the real Alicia.

Leif looked to Rex as if to say I’ll go first, but Rex either misinterpreted or ignored the cue, as he leaned in to the microphone and said, “Hi, everyone.”

Leif stepped back and straightened his clip-on tie, hoping that listening to Rex talk about Alicia wouldn’t cause him to explode into a full waterworks display before he was able to say anything.

“I’m Rex, and this is my best friend, Leif, and we’re best friends with Alicia.” Rex was suddenly struck by the feeling that he couldn’t trust anyone in the pews. They all looked perfectly normal and perfectly sad, but so did Wayne Whitewood. “Uh, were”—he corrected himself—“We were best friends with Alicia.” Rex looked to Leif, inviting him to speak. Apparently this would be somewhat of a tag-team speech.

Leif took a deep breath and forced himself to begin. “I know,” he said, “that some of you think Alicia was ‘troubled’ or ‘a bad influence’ or, you know, something like that, but I never saw it that way. Alicia is one of the most amazing people I’ve ever known.”

“I agree,” Rex said, even as he felt a paranoia gripping his chest more tightly by the second. “Alicia was the greatest. So smart and funny. And weird! But not bad weird, like ‘doing magic tricks in your room by yourself’ weird, but good weird, like ‘doing a magic trick that’s not even a magic trick because that’s the joke’ kinda weird.” He scanned the audience, simultaneously questioning why he’d decided to use magic as a gauge for weirdness and thinking he’d somehow know the faces of Alicia’s murderers—assuming members of Whitewood’s cult were out there—when he saw them.

Meanwhile, Leif was interpreting everything Rex was saying as an attempt to one-up him, to try to out-honor Alicia. He knew this wasn’t a competition, and sure, they both missed her, but what he had felt for her was more profound than Rex’s admiration of her lips. “Even more than all that,” Leif said decisively, “Alicia had a huge heart. You could see that with every person she met.”

“That’s for sure,” Rex said. “She could make anyone—” His eyes landed on Mary Hattaway, the secretary over at Second Baptist Church, sitting there in the fourth-row aisle seat. More specifically, his eyes landed on her hand.

Her carefully bandaged hand.

He looked at her face, where her cold eyes burned into his, even as she made it seem like she was genuinely mourning Alicia. He quickly looked away. “Sorry,” he said into the mic, clearing his throat. “Sorry.”

Leif glanced at Rex, who seemed to have gotten so choked up about Alicia that he’d needed to stop talking. He related, but why did Rex get to be the one to have the public emotional breakdown about her? If that was going to happen to anyone, it should be him!

“You know,” Leif said, before he’d even made the decision to do so, “I’ve never told anyone this, but I…I really…Since this past summer, I’ve had…feelings for Alicia. Like, more-than-friend feelings.” Leif heard his mom gasp as he took in the expressions of everyone else in the audience: some surprised, some sweetly moved. He couldn’t believe he’d just said that.

“What?” Rex asked, off-mic.

“I never got a chance to tell her how I feel,” Leif continued, ignoring Rex, “but I wish I had. You can’t waste a moment, you know? Because, if you do, the person you care about might, you know…they might be gone.”

The crowd was silent, as if absorbing the profundity of what Leif had just said.

“Whoaaa,” Mark Hornhat said from the back of the room.

Rex was absorbing Leif’s words too. He’d recalled their conversation about Alicia back on the rocks. Why hadn’t Leif said anything then? Their friendship had always been built on honesty. That’s what made it work. He was stunned. He couldn’t really dwell on that at the moment, though, because seeing the Boykinses’ devastated faces reminded him there was something more important to address.