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“I’m right here with you, it’s going to be okay.”
Her throat bobs as she nods her head, and we begin making our way inside. Coming here today wasn’t easy on me. By the time I was thirteen, I had attended three funerals. All of them people I loved very much. Being around a bunch of people dressed in black and crying isn’t my idea of fun. It tends to bring back a lot of bad memories for me. But I wanted to be here to support Cat.
The small building is packed with people, making it clear Dave was a very loved man. It feels like the walls are closing in on me as we make our way through the crowd, several people waving to Cat as we pass. She hasn’t met my gaze once since we left the truck, though her grip on my hand is still firm.
It isn’t until we walk into the viewing room that she lets go, dropping it as if she’d never been holding it at all, and embraces the woman standing by the door. Cat calls the woman Sarah, which I know to be Dave’s widow, and I wait for an introduction, but it never comes.
“My parents are back there,” Cat says, pointing to them before heading in their direction.
I follow behind her, feeling relieved to see some familiar faces. Cat’s parents adore me, something I’m pretty sure annoys her.
Her parents stand to greet us as we enter the pew. Cat’s father, Sean, pats me on the back. “It’s good to see you, son.”
Her mother, Ava, reaches across Sean to squeeze my arm, beaming brightly at me. “Yes, it’s always wonderful to see you, dear.”
“Hello, daughter standing right here,” Cat mocks.
“Yes,” her mother says waving her off as we all sit down, “but we see you all the time.”
“And we like him better,” her father adds.
Cat rolls her eyes, though there’s a smile playing on her lips. It’s the first time in the past week she’s seemed like herself. “Very funny.”
“Oh, Cat,” her mother says. “I saw Lawrence earlier.” Cat’s body stiffens next to me as she turns her gaze to her mother, and I watch her carefully. “Would you believe he looks the same as the last time I saw him? What was that? Fifteen, sixteen years ago?”
“Something like that,” Cat answers, her tone clipped as if upset by the topic of this Lawrence guy.
“Oh, well…” her mother says before clearing her throat. “Did you look at all the pictures of Dave up front? They’re really very lovely.”
Cat shakes her head. “I’m not ready.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Cat’s mother regards her with sad eyes.
Cat comes to her feet. “I could use a drink of water, and I think I’ll see if anyone has any headache medication.”
“Oh wait,” her mother says, holding up her hand. “I have some Advil in my purse, just a moment.”
Cat sighs as her mother digs through her purse, bouncing on her feet as if she can’t wait to flee.
“Do you want me to come with you?” I ask.
She shakes her head, giving me a weak smile before bending down to give me a quick kiss on the forehead. “No, I’ll be right back. You stay here with my parents and save my seat.”
I nod in agreement as Ava hands Cat the pills. She doesn’t look my way again before she turns on her heel and jets out of the room.
Fifteen minutes later, Sean has told me more about the Philadelphia Eagles than I ever need to know, and I’m starting to worry about Cat. I finally see her as she walks through the door with another guy right at her side, their heads close together as if they’re having a private and perhaps somewhat heated conversation.
She stops to console Caroline, who’s sitting in the front row, breaking away from him. As he walks away, his stare lands on me. There’s disgust in his bright teal eyes as he studies me, as if I’d been the one entering the room with his girlfriend.
When Cat finally makes her way back over to me, she grabs my hand and urges me to my feet. “Will you come up front with me? I don’t want to go alone.”
Some of the uneasy suspicion fades as I nod and follow her to the front of the room where pictures of Dave and other mementoes are on display. Tears fall as she looks at everything, explaining to me who the people in the photographs are. My chest feels tight around my rapidly beating heart, and I only wish she knew how hard this is on me.
The relief I feel as we turn to head back to our seat is short lived thanks to the same teal-eyed man who steps into our path. He doesn’t even acknowledge my existence as he smirks at Cat, his stare roaming over her entire body as he crosses his arms.
“Hey there, KitKat,” he says.
My jaw sets at the way he addresses Cat, and I fight the urge to call him out on it. Choosing instead to slip my arm around Cat’s waist to get my point across.
