Chapter Thirteen
Carol
Naturally she assumed Jim would accompany her, but he reminded her that things like funerals and memorials always made him uncomfortable.
He had walked out of his own mother’s service to stand in the church parking lot because the whole thing was giving him so much anxiety, so she didn’t push it, knowing she could represent the two of them. Jim offered to drive her instead.
“Traffic is probably going to be a nightmare, what with how popular Faith is … err, I mean, was,” he said. “If I drop you off you won’t have to worry about parking.”
Carol nodded. She would ask Olivia to go with her instead.
It was late evening when she sent another text to Olivia, who hadn’t been in touch since they spoke at noon and said she might stop by after taking a walk. Carol explained that she was planning to attend the vigil and assumed Olivia wanted to go too and that Jim could give them both a ride.
There was no response. Carol waited twenty minutes, checking her phone often. Then she started to worry and tried calling several times. Olivia didn’t pick up.
“Jim, why is she not writing me back or answering?”
“Honey, she’s a college kid. It’s a Saturday night.
She’s probably out with friends. Leave her be.
If she wants to go to the vigil I’m sure she’ll text you back before it starts tomorrow and we can swing by to pick her up.
Maybe she doesn’t want to go. Give her some space to deal with what happened. It’s a lot for a new intern.”
“You’re right, you’re right, I shouldn’t expect her to text me back. She probably needs a night out with friends.”
Carol shifted her mind instead to what she was going to wear the next day.
She wanted to stand in solidarity with the Fair-Weather Friends Fan Club and dress in yellow along with donning some of the famous earrings.
Carol only owned the cloud pair Jim had gotten her for Christmas, so that choice was easy.
Her brain sifted through the yellow item options in her closet and dresser drawers, and she finally decided on a simple mustard top plus light cotton white capri pants.
It was going to be warm again, but Carol didn’t like wearing shorts in public, the varicose veins in her legs always felt too ugly for anyone but Jim to see.
Carol and Jim watched the late news, which like the five PM show featured a very long segment devoted just to Faith with lots of tearful comments. This time Tom, Veronica, and Roger were each in the tributes, interviewed at their respective homes.
Carol had to admit that in addition to listening to their wonderful words about Faith, she was also curious about the tiny bit of the personal things she could see over their shoulders in the interviews: Veronica’s all-white kitchen, Roger’s office space with walls dotted with sports pennants, and Tom’s living room, a massive stone fireplace behind him with framed family photos on the mantel.
These people were celebrities, and celebrity homes were endlessly fascinating to her.
The newscast featured another touching tribute from Matthew and interview clips with Abby and Chuck too.
Carol was feeling a little less shocked and a little more as if her mind was starting—just barely starting—to process the information.
There was nothing she could do to bring Faith back, but she would honor her memory in any way possible. She was looking forward to the vigil.
Before bed Carol looked at her phone several times more to see if there was anything from Olivia.
But there was still no response. Jim reminded her that Olivia might be out at a bar or a movie or something.
It was not a great night of sleep, but it was enough to get by and attend the vigil.
In the morning she almost texted Olivia again but decided to heed Jim’s advice.
Olivia was a college student and was not even her own daughter.
Carol had to remember that and give her some breathing room.
If Olivia wanted to attend the vigil she would let Carol know.
Carol decided to take some pictures of the event to share with Olivia instead for when they did get together.
Jim and Carol planned carefully for Carol’s trip.
Sunglasses, sunscreen, water, a protein bar, and lots of tissues for the sure-to-come emotions.
They didn’t know how long the vigil would last or what the seating at the park might be like so Jim got out a camping chair in a bag with a strap Carol could carry.
She placed everything else into a large fanny pack, and they drove the thirty minutes to the park.
The parking lot was packed, and Carol saw a good number of women in various shades of yellow getting out of their respective cars.
“Just drop me here and I’ll walk,” she directed as their vehicle inched along in the line behind others.
Jim stopped, threw his blinkers on, gave her a peck on the cheek, and promised to come back whenever she texted him.
He would find a place to get a coffee and read an actual old-fashioned newspaper in the meantime.
Carol followed the other mourners down a path from the parking lot to a spot where a gazebo sat in a large grassy area flanked by trees. Rows of folding chairs had been set up, but they were all taken and many people were standing. Carol was grateful for her camping chair.
A woman in a Channel 9 polo was walking around with name tags and markers, and Carol took one and wrote her name, sticking it to her shirt.
Those in yellow tops and dresses—presumably all from the Facebook group—seemed to be congregating to one side, and Carol drifted that way, nodding at a few others who were also wearing forecast earrings.
Finding a spot partially under a tree for a sliver of shade, she opened her camping chair, sat down, and looked around.
The crowd was a huge mix of ages, races, and what looked like economic status.
There were families with strollers and babies, older couples leaning into each other as they slowly walked, professional-looking folks talking on cell phones or into watches, and a group from a local college with METEOROLOGIST CLUB stamped on their shirts.
Faith had truly touched every part of Detroit, Carol thought, and she nodded approvingly.
A woman about Carol’s age and holding a similar chair came up on one side of Carol and plopped down, giving Carol a nod and a smile.
Carol returned the greeting. A microphone was set up in the gazebo, and some official-looking people were milling about near it.
Several TV cameramen were walking around with cameras on their shoulders, and others had cameras on tripods at the edges of the vigil.
She heard a slight buzzing overhead and looked up to see a drone above them all.
She guessed this would all be a story on the later news.
A woman stepped to the microphone and tapped it.
“Good morning, can you all hear me?”
The crowd murmured yes.
“OK, wonderful. Thank you so much for coming to this Channel 9 remembrance for Faith Richards. You can see how many lives she touched just by looking at the size of this incredible crowd. Faith was a special person to all of us. I’m Hilary Sanfilipo, director of human resources for Channel 9.
I will be your emcee today. We have several guest speakers lined up, we’ll also play some of Faith’s favorite music, and we have a nondenominational prayer for those who wish to take part.
Our first guest speaker is our news director, Perry Schofield. Perry?”
There was polite clapping, and a man stepped forward and started to talk about how he had recognized that Faith had that special TV magic the very first time he saw her on the air, how he followed her career and just knew he had to get her back to her hometown one day, how thrilled he was when she returned to Detroit and how she transformed local TV news with her videos and earring forecasts.
He kept his composure until the very end, when he choked up saying how much he would miss her and that he couldn’t believe this was really happening.
Coughing, he looked down and wiped at his left eye as the crowd sniffled along with him.
Hilary then brought up some other people from the behind-the-scenes part of Channel 9: the general manager, who said he had never worked with a more popular meteorologist; the creative services director, who said he was in charge of making promotional videos and commercials about the weather team and loved the bonding of the meteorologists; the eleven o’clock executive producer, a woman named Laura, who had a baby strapped to her chest in one of those carrier things and said that Faith was exactly like what you saw on TV—warm, genuine, and kind to everyone.
At first there didn’t seem to be any on-air people, and Carol was disappointed. Who really cared about the GM anyhow? But as Laura wrapped up, she said, “And now we’ll bring out Tom, Veronica, and Roger as well as the weather team.”
There was a gasp from the crowd as the anchors started walking from behind a makeshift curtained area behind the gazebo.
People began to murmur and crane their necks.
Carol heard a woman a few chairs over hiss, “Tom is even more handsome in person!” Somebody else was wondering if these celebrities would be giving autographs.
Carol thought this talk was a bit inappropriate at a vigil for someone’s life, but she also couldn’t help noting herself that Roger was indeed taller than she had thought and Veronica was a little shorter and was getting a bit of middle-aged thickness around her waist.
Tom stepped to the microphone.
“Channel 9 viewers are the most loyal viewers in Detroit, and I think we can all safely say that Faith had the biggest following of any of us.”