Chapter 1 #2
Yet another obligation for Briar. Maybe this new version of Briar didn’t mind shaking hands with strangers on one of the worst days of her life, but Alice doubted it.
As the audience began to stir, Sierra turned to Alice with a calculating expression. ‘When was the last time you spoke to Briar?’
‘Not in a while,’ Alice said vaguely, shifting from one foot to the other. The funeral home was starting to feel hot, the afternoon sun slanting through the windows now. ‘But Susan and I kept in touch.’
Sierra opened her mouth, doubtless with another question, but Freddie shut her down.
Alice watched the Elwood family make their way to the back doors, vaguely listening to Freddie explain to Sierra that actually it was a very sensitive topic for Alice, as she’d been through a tough break-up before university and Briar had taken her ex’s side.
Which, if well-meaning, wasn’t exactly the truth.
She’d never talked with Freddie about what had happened – theirs was the sort of relationship where Alice knew every detail of his life and he knew the scant outlines of hers.
It seemed he’d concocted a story in his head that painted her in the most flattering light.
Well, it was no wonder he’d stayed her friend, then.
‘What’s happening with camp?’ Alice asked abruptly, looking away from where Briar was shaking an elderly woman’s hand. ‘Did they find someone to run it with only two weeks to go?’
‘Well, sort of,’ Freddie said. ‘Briar volunteered before there could really be any discussion.’
‘Briar?’ Alice echoed, not knowing why she was surprised. Of course it would be Briar to continue her mother’s legacy. She had gone to the camp her whole life, had been a counselor, knew the land better than anyone.
Still, Briar had a life in DC. Alice had watched it online over the years: Briar with Noah and Harper, her coworkers at the bar, a boyfriend or girlfriend featured sporadically.
Most people couldn’t pack everything up for a summer.
Most people wouldn’t isolate themselves in the woods with a bunch of screaming children right after their mother’s sudden and untimely death.
But most people weren’t Briar. That was a lesson Alice had learned the hard way.
‘I tried to tell her it wasn’t a good idea, but she wouldn’t listen,’ Sierra said. ‘Freddie and I offered to be her assistant directors, so she’ll have help. But still…’
The memories alone would’ve been enough to drive Alice away.
But maybe Briar was onto something – Alice’s instincts had ended with her stranded across an ocean from everyone she loved.
Surely that wasn’t the healthiest approach to loss.
Still, even though she knew Briar would hate her pity, she worried about her spending the summer in a place where she would feel Susan everywhere.
She watched as Briar shook hands with their old biology teacher, unsure if she imagined the slight recoil in response to whatever words of comfort he’d attempted to provide.
Briar would be in Virginia, at their old camp, all summer.
It was the place Alice loved most in the world, and a place she hadn’t been back to since she’d left for St Andrews.
After a decade of not setting foot on American soil, Alice found she couldn’t quite remember the feeling of standing in the woods at Camp Lakeside anymore, a memory she hadn’t thought it possible to lose.
‘When are you back to London?’ Freddie asked as the three of them joined the throng headed for the door.
‘The day after tomorrow,’ Alice said, adjusting her collar self-consciously at the thought of Briar seeing her in person for the first time in years.
She was immediately ashamed of her vanity, knowing that Briar had far more important things on her mind and wouldn’t spare a thought for Alice or her collar.
She’d considered not coming to the funeral at all, unsure if her being there would make things worse. But Susan had asked her to speak, and ultimately Alice knew that Briar had moved on.
‘Back to the lab?’ Freddie asked, in an overly-patient tone that made it sound like he’d asked the question once already and been ignored.
She shook her head rapidly. ‘No, not until the fall.’
‘What’s it you do again?’ Sierra asked. ‘Other than being superior to all of us by studying at Oxford?’
Alice ignored that. ‘Mycology, but specifically I’ll be defending my dissertation next year on the reclassification of the Basidiomycota division by developing criteria for the unassigned classes across three critical subphyla. If it’s finished, that is.’
Sierra blinked. ‘Sorry, what?’
‘I decide what’s a mushroom and what’s not.’
‘Oh, cool,’ Sierra said, sounding like she actually meant it. ‘That must be a power trip.’
Alice frowned. ‘Not really…’
‘You might not, but I know a mushroom when I see one,’ Freddie said.
‘Well, the visible characteristics—’ She cut herself off. ‘Right, you’re joking.’
He winked, then nudged her side with his elbow. ‘Nervous?’
‘What?’ she asked, smoothing a hand down the front of her shirt. Had he picked up on her glances at Briar? Was it normal to be anxious to shake your ex-best friend’s hand? Surely it was. ‘Do I look nervous?’
‘No,’ he said, squinting at her thoughtfully. ‘You look sad.’
‘I am sad,’ she replied indignantly.
‘But it’s okay to be nervous, even though you’re also sad.
Death isn’t as simple as just making you sad, it can make you feel a lot of emotions you wouldn’t expect.
’ Alice stared at him and he shrugged. ‘I read it in a pamphlet about helping kids through grief when one of the campers lost a parent over the summer.’
‘I cussed out a priest at my dad’s funeral,’ Sierra chimed in.
‘All I’m saying is that you can grieve Susan and still want to avoid your ex and the girl who bullied you in high school at her wake.’
Before Alice could respond that she wasn’t avoiding anyone, and if she were to avoid anyone, she would be prioritizing avoiding Briar over Noah and Harper anyway, they reached the front of the queue.
‘I’ll take that under advisement,’ Alice muttered over her shoulder as she approached the first in the line of family members, Briar’s dad. She’d never met him before. He and Susan had divorced, and Tom had absconded home to the UK before Alice had befriended Briar.
‘Mr. Elwood,’ she said, with a firm handshake. She hadn’t seen a picture of him in years, but for some reason she was still startled by how old he looked. In her head, Tom Elwood was younger and more vital than her own father. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’
‘I’m sorry for yours,’ he said, staring at her with a disconcertingly earnest expression. ‘She loved you very much, Alice.’
‘Um, oh.’ Tears filled her eyes before she had even processed his words. She couldn’t believe Briar’s deadbeat dad, of all people, was going to make her cry for the first time in years. She bit the inside of her cheek and managed to mutter out a ‘thanks’ before moving on to Briar’s siblings.
She pulled each of them into a hug in turn, since it would have felt silly to shake any of their hands. Laurel, who had been one of Alice’s favorite campers back in the day, squeezed her extra hard before letting go.
And then Alice was in front of Briar, the moment she’d been dreading since she’d decided to come to the funeral.
She stuck out her hand, looking Briar in the eye.
Close up, Alice could see the signs that Susan’s death had taken its toll, but Briar looked radiant even with her hazel eyes ringed in red.
The May sun had already started to bring out the freckles on her cheekbones.
The two of them used to joke that Briar looked like an elf from a fairytale, and Alice like a princess.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ Alice said, and Briar took her hand as though just realizing she was there, looking at Alice in an expressionless way that somehow made her feel invisible.
‘Thanks for coming,’ Briar said, without a hint of emotion, and dropped her hand. Alice felt it like a slap.