Chapter Twenty-one
I did not bring a dress.
It wasn’t to spite Mom, more so that I’d grabbed things quickly and I hadn’t been certain of where this was going.
I’d almost asked Lisa to bring something from my closet, but I’d decided my black pants and dark green sweater were good enough.
I knew that day was going to be one of the most uncomfortable of my life, and I didn’t want to be fighting with shoes or trying to act ladylike.
I warned Lisa that I didn’t know if the abortion crosses would still be on the church lawn, but she assured me that if they were, she would just try to guess which one I’d kicked.
Fortunately or unfortunately, they were no longer present.
The church was, of course, decked out for Christmas, but neither of us mentioned it.
The visitation was an hour beginning at nine thirty, but ended up lasting until almost eleven.
That was fine; Pastor Hardeman’s wife and daughter came to express their condolences, but Jackson was not present.
I wasn’t sure I could fake my way through that panic attack.
Pastor Hardeman, too, was nowhere to be found.
I just stood there, shaking hands and hugging person after person, until it felt like I’d touched everyone who had been to the party and then some.
Lisa hung slightly behind my shoulder, so that if people were uncomfortable, they could just ignore her.
She went to find tissues when we ran out, and brought Mom’s sister a bottle of water when she felt faint.
The tissues were largely for the people coming up to talk with us, because none of us was crying.
Dad stood awkwardly as usual, looking like he wanted a drink and to get out of there, but he talked with everyone, shook hands, and hugged.
Kevin asked if he wanted a chair about half an hour in, and Dad refused and powered through to the bitter end.
The assistant pastor who had performed Cami’s wedding gathered us in the bride’s room before the funeral began.
I wondered if we could be so lucky as to have him perform the service, but in a minute, Pastor Hardeman walked in, straightening his vestments like he’d just arrived at church and had thrown them on.
“Travises,” he said, making a motion as if we were to glom together in a football huddle.
Everyone moved closer together, but we kept our distance from Pastor Hardeman.
The tension in the room was immense. The minister didn’t seem to be thrilled with that, so he placed one hand on my father’s shoulder and one on Missy’s, probably because he assumed they wouldn’t cause a scene. He didn’t even look at me.
He prayed at us for what felt like a really long time, especially since we were supposed to keep our eyes down and hold hands with the people around us.
I made sure that Missy was on Lisa’s other side, and my mother’s sister Ava, who had a formidable tremor, held my left.
Either Pastor Hardeman leaned toward bland when people were actively grieving, or my father had paid him off, because he was completely benign as he prayed for our strength and told us where we should walk and when.
The service itself was difficult. There were many readings and prayers which I mostly tuned out, but Aunt Joyce’s husband and the church secretary spoke rather eloquently about Mom.
I sat stock-still in the front row between Dad and Lisa, holding her hand.
I thought about how many people were sitting behind me, and how many people had at least liked Mom if not loved her.
I thought about how I’d blown everything up in that very room.
I thought about how my mother was lying in front of us inside a rented casket.
I looked out of the corner of my eye at how stoically Asher was sitting.
Someone was watching all the other kids.
Thankfully, since Mom was being cremated, there was no graveside service. We all just headed out of the sanctuary at the end, spoke to yet more people, and finally ended up in the fellowship hall, where the church had put together a luncheon.
We had barely made it there when Pastor Hardeman came through to say something to my father.
The whole family was in the vicinity, so Dad did what he would’ve done in the bride’s room if he’d had time—reminded him of who everyone was.
Mom’s sister from Baltimore, then my cousin Sally who had left the church sometime between marriages two and three.
Her son was about sixteen and queer as a three-dollar bill, and her daughter was college-aged and had brought a boyfriend.
Pastor Hardeman said hello to all of them, even cracking a weaselly little smile like he might be able to marry the couple or something.
Then, before he could walk straight past me on purpose, I cleared my throat.
“Pastor Hardeman, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Lisa Sutherland. ”
As if we’d actually discussed doing this, Lisa offered her hand pleasantly. I expected her to say it was nice to meet him, but it wasn’t, and it wasn’t Lisa’s style to lie. “It was a beautiful service,” she said.
I watched the pastor’s jugular jump and he stared at Lisa, then me, then back at Lisa. He did not shake her hand, he did not thank her for the compliment. He nodded tersely at her, then turned to me. “Your grandmother would be so ashamed.”
“Whoa!” The word came out of my brother’s mouth nearly on top of Pastor’s. “That’s not okay.”
I gave Kevin a thankful smile, then turned it on Pastor Hardeman. “That just tells me that you didn’t know her very well.” I then took Lisa’s empty hand and made an about-face toward the buffet line.
“Damn,” Lisa whispered. “That exceeded my expectations.”
I grinned. “Impressive, wasn’t it.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. This isn’t the time or place for unpacking, and he isn’t worth it.”
Kevin caught up. “Shit, Sam. I’m so sorry.”
“You did nothing wrong. You did so much right. You drove me home from church more times than I can count when I couldn’t face Mom. You caused so much trouble I looked like an angel next to you. You snuck me copies of Playboy, Kevin.”
Kevin looked like he might break down for a second. “Aw. That was nothing.”
“That’s a good big brother,” Lisa said.
“Corrupting her.”
“Accepting her. Is that the rest of your tribe?”
Kevin closed his eyes for a split-second before turning around. Asher had been joined by Seth, Mary Margaret, Rebecca, and Rachel, and Missy had Jeremiah on her hip. “Yep, that’s them.”
We’d moved about three feet up in the line before Sally’s daughter came up to us. “I believe you’re Lisa,” she said loudly, sticking her hand out very obviously at us. “I’m Kendra and this is Bailey.”
“Good to meet you,” Lisa said, and shook her hand.
“He’s about to kill me.” Kendra nodded toward Bailey. “This is the first time he’s met family.”
“This is my first time, too,” Lisa said.
“I just wanted to say that I know that this church was really important to Aunt Helen, but that was a real dick move of Hardeman. Where are you guys living now?”
We talked through the line and for another half hour over lunch.
We were joined by Sally and her son, whose name was Kaden.
Sally showed us pictures of Kaden and his boyfriend from his school’s winter formal and Kaden blushed but looked pleased.
We also talked about baking shows, the best soil to grow blueberries, and where never to buy a used car, so it wasn’t just a huge gayfest. After that, Lisa got into a heated game of I-Spy with Kevin’s kids, and I moved around the rest of the room, thanking people for coming, sharing short conversation with others I hadn’t spoken to prior to the service.
The one person I did not see was my father.
That worried me. He always managed to find a corner to hide in during public events, but this was different.
Something was wrong, and I had probably made things worse by not finding him an hour before.
I searched the fellowship hall, then the hallway and the vestibule, and finally went back to Kevin.
He was sitting at a table with some of his childhood friends, bouncing Rachel on one knee and giving Jeremiah a bottle on the other. “Hey,” he said. “Where’s Lisa?”
“Um, I think she’s giving piggybacks now.”
“Oh Jesus, she doesn’t have to do that.”
“Remember I said that she actually likes kids?” I took a sleepy Jeremiah from him, draped his burp cloth over my shoulder, and started rubbing his back. “Have you seen Dad?”
Kevin thought about it. “No, not for a really long time. I can take the baby, really.”
“I’ve got him.” I got a huge belch out of Jeremiah and felt very smart for grabbing that burp cloth. “I just hate kids, not babies.”
The only thing that would have been better than a warm, sleepy baby cuddling into my neck was a dog, but they don’t allow them in church, so I took what I could get and moved through the building until I was back in the sanctuary.
I could see my father sitting in the fifth row on the right side, just like always.
I took my time coming up the aisle, and stood at the end of the pew quietly. “Hey.”
Dad looked up, and, seeing me there, dropped his head to his arms, which were resting on the pew ahead of him. “Sam.”
“What’s wrong?” I carefully scootched just a few feet into the row ahead of Dad so I could sit sideways without disturbing the baby.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was despondent. “We broke you, Sam. We forced you to be near that…man…And we broke you.”
“Nobody’s broken, Dad,” I said quietly. “I’m fine.”
“But years of that. You put up with years of that. It’s not fair.”
“This world isn’t fair.”
“But we were supposed to protect you.”
“You did.” I stroked Jeremiah’s soft, fine hair back. “I was not attacked by wild boars or carried off by a band of thieves.”
“Not just physically.”
“I know. Dad, it’s not your fault.”
“I don’t want it to be your mother’s fault, either.”
“It’s not.”