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I take a deep breath, reminding myself that there’s nothing holding me here. I can leave - right now, if I want to - and there will be no real repercussions. Sure, I might get dirty looks, but do I care what a bunch of liars pretending to be my dad’s best friends think of me?
I exhale, then draw in another deep breath as someone slips from the back row and approaches me. Her black clothing and puffy eyes send a shot of doubt through me; she’s putting on a really convincing show.
“It’s been so long,” she says in a quiet, covert whisper.
“Not long enough,” I say, staring at the casket holding my father. Without warning, she ushers me out into the entryway of the church and lets out a deep breath before giving me a warm smile that doesn't feel fake.
“I know you’re mad at your dad, and you have every right to be,” she says, her brown eyes searching my face. I’d guess her to be right around my parents’ age, give or take. “But he did love you. He was so proud of-”
I hold up a hand. “You don’t have to lie to me.” I’m not in the mood for whatever is about to happen.
“He thought you might feel that way,” she says before pulling her phone out of her pocket. “Your mother doesn't know I’m showing you any of this.” When she turns the screen toward me, a video begins to play.
“Why don’t you just tell him you’re sorry?” the woman says in the video. Behind the phone, she raises her eyebrows.
“He wouldn’t listen if I tried. I failed that boy, Marva.” My father sounds distraught.
“Have you even told him you’re sick?” Marva asks, her expression troubled. My father sits back in his office chair and gives a sharp shake of his head.
“He’d just think I’m trying to guilt him. I’m not going to tell him anything.” Despite the harsh edge of his tone, he sounds unsure, as if he thinks he might be making the wrong decision.
But I’m done watching. “Thank you for trying,” I say, lifting my shoulders as I watch her expression sag slightly.
“There was more to your father than you knew,” she said.
With a terse nod, I respond, “That’s what happens when you’re always gone during a child’s childhood and aren’t invited to their adulthood life.”
“Everyone makes mistakes.” Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, but I’m not moved.
“And we all suffer the consequences of our mistakes. Now if you’ll excuse me,” I say, stepping around her and moving back to my spot in the church doorway. Leaning on the frame, I watch Marva walk past, ducking her head at me before taking her seat.
Staring at the casket, I think about how I’m back where it all started. Where I first learned what it meant to want something - or someone - so bad it makes your breath catch in your chest if you think about it too much.
Lila.
My gaze leaves my father to explore the stained-glass windows as I ignore the pastor and wait for the service to end so I can make my escape. I should be grateful; the funeral is a pretense, but it provides the perfect smokescreen for my true intentions.
Tucking my thumbs in the pockets of my slacks, I let my mind drift back to sky-blue eyes and a sweet smile that tasted like warm summer days.
Lila had always been a bright spot in my life. She’d softened me, helped smooth over the jagged edges of my feelings and behaviors. I took her heart, toyed with it, and in the end, crushed it without a second thought.
And now, I’d do the same, but with purpose and reason, not just because I can.
She thinks I’m getting married.
And I am.
See, I know Lila’s dirty little secret. She was drowning in her brother’s medical debt. I remember Alex; he’d always been the reckless twin with a penchant for tangling with trouble and paying the price in blood and pain. Thank God the fraternal twins couldn’t be more different.
She needs the deal with the flowers-by-phone company that had contacted her. That offer was a lifeline for her, for her business, and for her family.
The pastor finally seems done talking and my mother rises, making her way to my father’s casket, one hand near her face as if to hold back tears, and the other reaching for him, grasping his shoulder, before releasing him.
The pastor steps close to her and wraps his arms around her trembling shoulders in a show of warmth and support. I watch them, still trying to unravel what is happening here before my mind flips back to Lila.
The events I’d set in motion before ever coming back here are going off perfectly to plan. I’m going to leverage my knowledge and use it to get what I want from her. What she doesn't know is that the contract - and the relief it promises - hinges on her answer to a question. A question I haven’t asked yet.
“Fredrick...” I hear my mother’s voice calling out to me. That’s my cue to leave; I’m not about to join in the false stories about my father. If he was such a perfect man, then I’d truly never met him.
