Of the Trees(54)

She felt Rebecca tense next to her and reflexively grabbed for her fingers. She clenched her hand hard, hard enough to shift her knuckles, but it was a good steady pressure and Cassie felt rooted by it. They approached the coffin together, kneeling just as Mr. and Mrs. Murphy had done. Cassie tried to pray. It was what people did, pray for their deceased loved one. But nothing came. Just a stuttering in her mind.

Jessica didn’t even look like herself. It had only been a couple days, but her skin was waxy and stretched, her expression painted on and her features forced into a benign smile that was trying too hard for serene. Cassie didn’t think she had ever seen Jessica with an expression even close to that. Her clothes were formal and stiff, a green tweed dress suit with a high cream collar. Cassie wondered if someone had bought this specifically for her to be buried in; it looked so unlike Jessica. They may just have needed something that would cover more of her skin and Jessica hadn’t owned any formal clothing that would do that.

Cassie knelt there for what felt like an excruciatingly long time, her fingers going numb in Rebecca’s grasp. Eventually, they stood, moved into the room behind Jessica’s family, and waited as the funeral director opened the main door.





The line of people was never-ending. Cassie didn’t know how the Evans family could stand it. She felt hollow. Standing next to Rebecca, trying to offer support, had put her in the direct line of the mourners. They flowed past her, most recognizing Rebecca as Jessica’s best friend. They stopped to hug her, hold her hand, offer prayers and hollow words. Rebecca nodded and thanked them. They would move on to Cassie, most remarking “Didn’t you play softball with Jessica?” She’d nod and they’d dip their head in sorrowful pity, patting her arm and murmuring condolences.

Laney was there. Her parents followed behind her, and Cassie’s parents were behind them. Laney was stiff and formal, shaking hands with the Evans and bending her head, presumably in prayer, when she stood over Jessica’s coffin. Her eyes were glassy with tears by the time she got to Cassie.

“Cass, please, can we talk?” Laney whispered, standing in front of her. Cassie looked past Laney’s shoulder, letting her gaze drift over to the parents who were following in her friend’s wake.

“Not now, Laney,” Cassie said in an undertone. Laney was forced to move as her parents came up behind her, hugging both Rebecca and Cassie. Mrs. Blake spoke softly in Cassie’s ear, pressing her tightly.

“Anything you need, hon,” she said, pulling back to look Cassie in the eye. “We’re here. Anything you need.” Cassie nodded numbly.

The police showed up, too. Cassie recognized the officer that she had given her statement to, and he nodded at her as he came down the line, murmuring his respects to Jessica’s parents. He and his partner, a woman Cassie did not recognize, sat at the back of the room, their presence stark and sobering among the mourners.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” Cassie whispered. “Want to come?”

“Sure,” Rebecca said with a grateful sigh. “Why not?”

They made their way slowly through the crowd, getting a fair share of sympathetic glances and pats on the back. Several people stopped them for hugs, and they nodded dumbly, continuing through the room even as they spoke their thanks to the people they left behind. The bathroom wasn’t empty. Cassie felt a small pang of disappointment at this, but she finished quickly, washed her hands, and then waited in the hall for Rebecca. The swarm of people was exhausting, constantly pressing and surging, patting Cassie and asking questions she had no way to answer. She felt a headache blooming, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. A cold draft washed over her, and she looked up, hearing a murmur of laughter from outside.

“What was that?” Rebecca asked. Cassie jumped, not realizing her friend had joined her. She shrugged, and they both headed for the back door.

Cassie wasn’t sure what she expected, but whatever it was, it wasn’t what she found. A group of students, mostly from their grade, were converged in a circle. Someone had stolen a couple of lit candles in hurricane lanterns and had scattered them around on the ground. The gravel of the walkway and the grass that edged it glowed in soft, lit circles. Others had left their phones, screens glowing with different images of Jessica, propped on the windowsills and the bench that sat in the small yard behind the funeral home. There were no other lights, the line of people visiting wrapped around the building on the other side, and so the teens were completely isolated. The laughing and murmuring stopped when Cassie and Rebecca appeared in the doorway.

“What’s going on?” Rebecca asked, her voice quiet. Someone cleared their throat. A boy Cassie knew from the baseball team, Mark DeRubertis, stepped forward.

“We’re paying our respects our way,” he said, his voice low but firm. “A way Jessica would have approved of.”

He gestured to Adam McCullough, a junior who was also on the baseball team, to pass the flask he held loose at his side. Adam did so, offering a small smile in the girl’s direction. Mark grabbed it from him and held it up.

“Jess,” he said, looking at one of the phones propped nearest him. Jessica’s face beamed out from it, a bottle held between her fingers. She had been laughing. “An amazing first baseman, first rate drinker, and a bit of a slut. You will be missed.”

He caught Rebecca’s eye, holding it with a caring intensity, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. He was asking her permission, her endorsement as Jessica’s best friend that this was okay. He tipped the flask into his mouth and swallowed a quick gulp. There was a quiet round of applause at his words. He offered the flask to Rebecca, and she took it gingerly.