See You at Harry's(38)

The minister bows his head, and we all do the same. There’s a long, stretched-out silence that’s only interrupted by the sniffs of people crying. And finally a quiet song the minister sings without any music. But I don’t listen to the words, because all I can think of is Charlie and all that is left of him.

When the minister finishes singing, he quietly puts out the candle that was on the table.

And then it’s over.





THE MINISTER MOTIONS for our family to stand, so we get up and walk to the back of the restaurant. Then people start to come toward us. There are so many. Regulars from the restaurant. People from school. Strangers. They hug my parents. And some of them hug me. I notice that not everyone is coming over to us and I’m glad. From the back, I see the staff bringing out food from the kitchen, and some people I recognize as regulars from the restaurant help spread the dishes out on a few tables they are already moving back into place.

“I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m so sorry.” The familiar words thrum in my ears over and over again. Men’s voices. Women’s voices. Quietly. Gently. Someone hugs me and gets their wet tears on my cheek. I wipe them on my shoulder. I don’t know why they make me feel sick.

Then Cassie is standing in front of me with her parents. She hugs me, but she doesn’t say she’s sorry. She doesn’t say anything. She just holds on.

“You let us know if you need anything, honey,” her mom says. “Anything at all. You come over any time you want.” She and Cassie’s dad both hug me, too. As Cassie walks away, she looks back at me over her shoulder, as if she’s checking to make sure I didn’t disappear.

When Gray comes up to us, he seems uncomfortable. “Hey, Fern,” he says without looking at me. “I, um . . . I’m really sorry about what happened. It sucks.”

I nod.

He moves on to Holden, who doesn’t say a word but wraps his arms around Gray and hides his face in his neck and cries into him. Gray looks like he doesn’t know what to do. He also looks so big next to Holden like that. He’s a lot taller and filled-out-looking next to skinny Holden. Gray holds him like he is more of a dad than a boyfriend. Like he wants to protect him. Their long hug starts to back up the line, so people start to go around them. At one point, I see my dad glance over with a sort of surprised look. It’s the first time he’s seen Gray, and I think maybe he is shocked to see just how much older Gray really is. Or maybe just to see them hugging.

I see Sara notice them, too. And I wish she had someone here to hold her like that. Or like Cassie held me. But all her friends are away at school. All she has is the restaurant staff to hang out with, and that can’t be much fun since, except Gil, they’re all way older than she is. For the first time, I realize how truly lonely she must be. I understand why she would sneak off to kiss Gil.

When Ran’s parents get to me, they hug me close. I can feel all their unspoken words and sorrow in the way they hold me. I look around to see where Ran could be, but I don’t see him anywhere, and they don’t explain his absence.

When we finally get through the line of people and Holden lets go of Gray, the minister gathers my family into a small circle.

“You all holding up?” he asks.

No one replies, but I’m sure we’re all thinking, Not really.

“Well, there is a beautiful spread here. Plenty of food and seats. If you need to get some fresh air, it will be fine to step outside. People will probably want to offer their support one more time before they leave.”

My dad leads Sara and my mom to a table in the corner. My mom looks even more empty than she did earlier.

Holden and Gray walk over to another table, leaving me standing alone with the minister. He smiles at me and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Sara, I hope you and your family know that even though you don’t belong to our church, you can call or e-mail me any time if you need someone to talk to. I know what an impossibly difficult time this is.”

His face is so gentle and sincere, I can’t bring myself to tell him I’m Fern.

“Thank you,” I say.

He hands me a folded piece of paper. “This is for you to read from time to time. It’s the poem I shared. I hope it will bring you comfort the way it does me.” He squeezes my shoulder and turns to make his way to the people and the food.

I put the paper in my skirt pocket and walk toward the door.

Outside, the air is crisp and cool, despite the sunshine. I walk slowly through the parking lot to the picnic tables and sit down. I breathe in the cold air, letting it hurt my lungs. I cross my legs, careful not to kick Charlie — and then remember again for the thousandth time.

I feel the cold air against my ankles.

Charlie.

The carvings under my arm feel rough. I search for the names we carved — was it only last week? But there are so many, I can’t find them at first. I run my finger over the area I’m sure we used and get a splinter. There.

Holden was here

Fern 2

& Charlie



I rub my aching finger on his name, knowing his fingers touched the same spot. I lean forward and put my cheek against the letters, trying to feel . . . I’m not sure what. The ache in my chest does its familiar move up my throat, but I swallow it back down. I swallow and swallow, my cheek pressed against the table, my finger bleeding over some other name.