Liars and Losers Like Us(42)

They must have known what a bully Jane was.

Mr. Morgan lunges forward, stalking up to the Hulmes with such vengeance that I flinch. Collective gasps come from the mourners, seated and standing. Mrs. Morgan is frozen next to Maisey’s box, wringing her hands.

Mr. Morgan grabs the guy’s arm, spewing into his face, “Joe, you don’t belong here. The laws haven’t changed just because it’s a funeral. You have no right. No right. You’re an abomination.”

Mrs. Morgan steps up, her voice shakes. “Please leave before we notify the police.”

“I’m sorry,” the man mutters as he lowers his head and walks straight out without looking back. Mrs. Morgan turns to Jane and her mother. Jane’s head is down, her body shivering while her mom stands like a statue clasping Jane’s hand. Mrs. Morgan steps directly into Ms. Hulmes’s gaze. “You. You can leave with your husband.”

Ms. Hulmes shakes her head, chin quivering, tears falling from her eyes. “Please …”

Mr. Morgan puts his arm around his wife pulling her back, then addresses Ms. Hulmes as Jane studies the tops of her own shoes. “Janice, you need to go. Now.”

“Enough said, Charles. We’re leaving.”

“Oh jeez, let’s go too.” I poke Mom’s arm.

“Just hang on, it’d be rude to get up right now.” She rests her hand on my knee to stop me from rising.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I say.

“Bree.” She presses harder on my knee.

“I’m serious. I promise. I’ll be right back.”

As I pass the window of the front doors, I see Ms. Hulmes and Joe walking back out into the parking lot. Jane isn’t behind them but three guys are at their heels as if making sure they’re leaving. Ms. Hulmes turns back toward the funeral home but the tallest guy blocks her as she argues, waving her hands around and pointing back my way. One of the guys turns and heads back as Jane’s mom and Joe are escorted to the black SUV from the other night. I step away from the door and head down the hallway looking for a restroom sign.

“Excuse me, Miss.”

I spin around and the tall guy from outside is waving me down.

“Um, yes?” I raise my eyebrows as my heart drops at the idea of being caught semi-eavesdropping.

“I hate to bother you but do you mind checking the ladies room for a small brunette in a black dress? Her name’s Jane.”

Uh, yeah, I do mind. I didn’t really want to see Jane here. “Sure, no problem. But I don’t know where the restrooms are.”

“Last door on the right. If she’s in there, please tell her to make it quick. Her ride’s in a hurry to leave.”

I push the bathroom door open, hoping to find it empty, but it’s not. Right away I notice Jane’s black heels and her voice echoing a whispered screech over a bathroom stall. “I’m not going back with you guys. I’ll find my own ride. I told you this was a bad idea. You’re so f*cking delusional, Mom. No. I’m not getting back in the car with him. I have a ride. Just go. I’m hanging up now. Bye.”

I open the door again, and shake it a little and cough as I pretend to walk back in. “Hello? Is somebody in here? Jane?”

“Shit.” She whispers. “Hang on a second,” she calls out. A few seconds later, the stall door opens. Jane adjusts the thin black strap of a tiny black leather bag over her shoulder and speaks into her phone. “Hey, It’s me. I just texted you. I need you to pick me up from the SA gas station in about ten minutes. Call or text me as soon as you get this.”

She steps up to the sink and turns on the faucet. Her face is snide as hell as she yanks a towel to dry her hands. “What’re you doing here?”

“What do you think?”

Her lip twitches a little and she raises an eyebrow. “You just get here?” Her fear is way too easy to read. If I was half the * she is, I’d let her know the spectacle I just witnessed or at least make her sweat a little.

“Yep. Just got here. About to go pay my respects. What do you care?”

“No reason,” she exhales, relaxing just barely. “Well, whatever. This was––nothing. Forget it.”

She pushes past me and waltzes out the bathroom door.

“You didn’t even use soap,” I say to the door flapping past the frame.

A minute later I’m falling back into my chair next to Mom, silently processing the scene that just unfolded. When I watched Jane walk through the parking lot, the SUV was already gone.

“Let’s sit for a few more minutes or until Mrs. Morgan comes back so we can say good-bye,” Mom whispers.

Rifling through the junk in my purse, I’m checking my phone, watching the time, and hoping for a missed call or text from Sean. To add a bright shard of happy to this dark and mind-f*cktacular day. For the next few minutes, people walk up and down the aisle like an assembly line of slow-moving head nodders, head shakers, and huggers. I’d feel like a zombie too, but my brain is way too busy for that. Finally, Mrs. Morgan returns, elbows locked with the lady who passed me the little flyer when me and Mom got here.

I slide my fingers beneath my eye to catch what I hope will be the last of today’s teardrops. Then I grab Mom’s hand and whisper, “Okay, please, can we go? I can’t take anymore. I need to go home.”