“Here you go, child.” He held out a small, rectangular object, which she accepted out of reflex. “I pray you don’t make the same mistakes your mother did.”
Once he walked around to the bank of chairs behind her, she glanced down and discovered the gift was a pocket Bible. She put it on the seat to her right, not too worried if she forgot it there.
A slender woman with deep wrinkles on her face and hair too black to be natural walked by as if Riley didn’t exist. Her outfit and makeup seemed more suited to a college co-ed than someone old enough to be a grandmother. She spent ten minutes talking at Mom as if she were alive. Trivial questions flowed from one to the next without a pause to slip in an answer. Riley wondered if she always did that to people. All Riley got was a two-second wave as the mourner teetered past on extreme heels that made her calves look like dead guinea pigs stuffed into socks.
Eleven more visitors, three married couples, three men, and two women, arrived over the next fifteen minutes. Riley remembered a few of them from bank parties Mom had brought her to. Mrs. Harris was the head teller. Mr. Eaves was the district manager for the security company that handled the bank’s account. The rest all worked at the bank or in the building across the way. Her mother’s former coworkers trickled past one by one, spending a moment to talk to Riley and offer the usual condolences, as if they’d all rehearsed the same lines ahead of time.
I swear I’m going to scream if one more person says she ‘looks natural.’
The dull murmurs of her mother’s former employees and a few regular customers lent a heavy presence to the room behind her. Conversations about work, relatives, pets, and the weather went on for-seeming-ever. That bald guy didn’t bother to show up. Riley shifted in her seat, peering over the crowd behind her. No one from the big corporate Christmas party was there, and none of Aunt Bea’s people could be bothered. Good. She never liked me anyway.
Riley faced forward again, gazing at her mother in hopes of finding a sign of life. Maybe they’d all made a mistake and Mom wasn’t really dead yet. Despite the crowd, she still felt like the only person there.
Metal clanked to her right as a gaunt man in a maroon flannel shirt over a white tee, plain blue jeans, and brown work boots bumped the front row of chairs. A store tag still dangled from his left sleeve. Dark rings lined his eyes, and a few days of beard shaded the lower parts of his face. He didn’t approach the casket, or even look at it, keeping his gaze down as he drifted closer. When he made eye contact with Riley, it lasted all of two seconds, and he seemed almost afraid of her. She squeezed the little purse in her lap as he lowered himself into the seat beside her. An instinctual urge to lean away from him gripped her. Something about him seemed… not quite right. Riley peered over her shoulder, searching for Mina with a ‘help me’ stare.
The man looked at Mother with an expression more tired than grieving. Riley gave up hunting for Mina in the crowd and faced forward.
Who is this dude? Oh, this must be that homeless guy Mom bought lunch for.
She sat stiff as a board, trying to ignore him and force life back into Mother with her eyes.
“You sure got big, Squirrel.”
No one’s called me that since… Her head popped up, mouth agape. “D-Dad?”
He looked nervous as anything, and fidgeted while studying his boots. “I’m sorry it took something like this to… for me to…”
“You look like hell.”
A weak smile flickered across his lips, dying to a flat line after three seconds. “Been driving three days… didn’t sleep a whole lot.”
“Oh.” He’s so different. She picked at her purse. “Thanks for coming for me.”
He reached out to hold her hand; she leaned back without conscious thought. Dad looked down. “Sorry. Suppose you’re pretty mad at me.”
“I guess. When I was like nine. I…” She forced herself to ignore the uneasy feeling she got from him and grasped his hand, finding his skin calloused and dry. “Sorry. I’m―”
“Upset.” He squeezed her fingers. “That Lewis woman told me to expect you’ll need some adjustment time. I’m not supposed to take anything personally.”
“Feels like I don’t know you anymore.”
“I work a lot. Sometimes, I forget to eat.” Dad glanced at the coffin. “She looks so natural.”
Riley clenched her jaw, grumbling. “No, she doesn’t. She looks like they stole her from a wax museum. They got the hair all wrong.”
“Lily used to wear it down like that when you were small, before she got that job with the bank. Didn’t have the time to take care of it after that.”
“Are you really here?” She stared at him, lip quivering and eyes full of water. “Y-you really want me?”
“Yes, Riley.” He squeezed her hand. “Not a day went by I didn’t think of you.”
“Why’d you leave?”
“Mr. McCullough?” A dark-skinned man in a black suit with a red satin shirt walked over with one eyebrow lifted.
“Yes,” said Dad. “I am.”
They shook hands.
“I’m Victor Samuels, with Samuels Funeral Home. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks,” said Dad.
“Miss.” Victor bowed to Riley and shifted his attention back to Dad. “I am to understand that in accordance with your wife’s wishes, there will be no mass?”
“That sounds like Lily. I just got here… I… haven’t had time to review any documents.”
“That’s fine, sir. With your permission, I’ll say a few short words and we can be on our way to her final resting place.”
Riley broke down at the word ‘final,’ sobbing into her hands. The purse slid out of her lap and plopped to the floor, but she didn’t care. Dad’s arm settled around her shoulders and pulled her close. She hadn’t seen him in six years. He cradled her to his chest; his scent filled her breath, bringing back old memories. As different as he looked, he still smelled like Dad.
Victor Samuels became a blurry smear in the corner of her vision. He drifted to the front of the room and cleared his throat. “Excuse me everyone.”
Within the hour, her mother would be left in a hole in the ground, never to be seen again. She didn’t care about what the man said, what the people behind her whispered, or even what any of them thought of her carrying on like a little girl.
“First, I’d like to convey the family’s thanks to everyone in attendance today. It is Mrs. McCullough’s wish to have a secular service. As such, we will be proceeding directly to Hillside Cemetery. Directions are available at the front podium.”
“She’s no atheist anymore.” A creaking elderly voice silenced the room. “God has shown her the error of her ways.”
Riley’s tears ceased. She leaned up from her father to peer over his arm at the people seated behind them. The man who’d handed her the bible was on his feet, imperious finger aimed at the coffin. She stared at him in utter disbelief.
“He is watching. Behold the fate that awaits all who deny Him. She’d still be alive if she had not turned her back on God.”
A few mourners gasped.
Riley wanted to scream and curse at him, but all she managed to do was start crying again.
“Have some respect, dammit… her daughter’s right there,” muttered some guy.
“The poor girl’s just lost her mother, how dare you,” yelled Mrs. Harris.
Dad jumped up and spun with one foot on the seat of his chair and his fist drawn back. He seemed about ready to pounce on the old man and beat him senseless, but a brief glance back at Riley took the fire from his eyes. He exhaled and lowered his arm.
“Sorry… if we weren’t in a funeral home.” He glared at the geezer. “Don’t they teach you in that church of yours not to speak ill of the dead? Have some respect.”
“I warned her, but she refused to hear the word,” said the man.
“Mr. Hensley, that’s quite enough,” snapped a full-figured brunette. Riley had seen her at the bank b
efore, in the back glass-walled office, but wasn’t sure what she did there. “You should leave.”
“She got what she deserved. You all will,” muttered Mr. Hensley.
Dad started around the row of chairs, headed right at him with murder in his eyes. Riley shivered in her seat while some people from the funeral home ran over to separate her father from the old man. Victor Samuels and a man that could’ve been his brother escorted the bible beater to the door.
Mina scowled at him. “With her daughter here? You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Whispers wafted around about the old man. He owned a bookstore next to the bank, and Mother’s unrepentant atheism had fuelled a years-long rivalry between the two. Not that Mom ever went out of her way to discuss it with anyone. That wasn’t her way. She spent more time dodging him than anything, but he kept trying.
Dad backed away from the crowd toward her, staring at Mr. Hensley while opening and closing his right fist. Victor offered apologies to everyone for the disruption and rushed into a murmured conversation with Dad. It took her father a few seconds to peel his eyes away from the door.
Others stood, getting ready to join the procession of cars to the graveyard. She rushed to the back of the room and grabbed Mother’s hand.
As stiff as a wooden statue.
Riley recoiled and clutched the edge of the casket. Could God really have struck her down for not believing in him? She never talked to her about religion, or her lack of it. The only thing she’d ever said was it would be her decision to make whenever she felt like making it. Riley stared at the not-right face propped up on a small violet pillow. The sound of people shuffling out through the foyer lit a sense of urgency in her heart. She wanted as much time as possible with her mother before they took her away forever.
I’m sorry, Mom. A dozen minor arguments over the past school year replayed themselves in her head. Bedtime, curfew, cell phone bill, getting a C in math… so trivial, but how much stress did they pile on? The guilt was worse. Whenever Mom said she was too tired to spend time with her, Riley would sulk and walk away without a fight. That had to have made mother feel awful. She slumped to her knees on the cushioned pad, forehead atop her fingers, and wept.
Dad moved up alongside her. He didn’t say anything until the room behind them fell silent.
“It’s time to go.”
“I don’t wanna.” She lifted her head. “I wanna stay with her. I…”
“It’s all right,” said Victor. “We just need a little room.”
Riley backed up two steps, clinging to her father’s arm instead of the coffin. Two men folded in the padding around the edges while Victor turned a crank, lowering her mother flat inside. She stared until one of them reached to close the lid.
“Wait!” she yelled, surging forward.
The man froze with a startled look as if he’d been about to step on a puppy. She hovered over her mother’s body, sniffling.
“I love you, Mom.” Riley kissed her on the cheek.
Five minutes later, Dad threaded his arms around her from behind, peeling her away from the casket so the men could lower the lid. It shut with a dull thunk that felt as if it hit her in the heart. An attendant gathered up the pleated curtain concealing a wheeled, metal frame beneath the coffin.
Riley hung limp in her father’s embrace as the men pushed her mother around the bank of seats and out the door.
Slumped on a plastic folding chair in the shade of a green canopy the cemetery staff had erected to protect attendees from the relentless sun, Riley alternated between sniffling into a tissue and staring into space. With no clergy invited―at her mother’s request―her coworkers took turns droning on about how great a person Lily McCullough was. No one dared touch on anything approaching religion or spirituality, though several commented on Mr. Hensley chasing away the homeless while Mom sometimes bought them lunch. Riley didn’t have any tears left. She gazed at the white coffin perched above a hole, surrounded by mats of fake grass, ignoring eleven people in a row all saying more or less the same thing: pretty, smart, went before her time, oh her poor daughter, on and on.
Eventually, the nattering faded away, replaced by the rustle of formal clothes and the rattle of cheap chairs. Metal doors slammed in the distance, engines started, and cars drove off. A few workers congregated around the coffin, one tactless enough to give Riley a ‘come on, get going’ look.
“Mina’s going to take you back to the shelter for a little while to collect your things.”
“What?” Riley snapped out of her daze, looking up at him. “I’m not going with you?”
He sighed as if annoyed. “I’ve gotta sign some stuff, show some papers… prove I’m who I say I am. It shouldn’t take more than an hour or ten.”
“I hate that place. It feels like jail.” She stood, wandered as close as she dared to her mother, and sat on the grass. “Can I wait here for you?”
Frustrated, the worker pushed a button. Electric motors whined as the coffin started its sluggish journey downward.
“No, Squirrel, we can’t leave you out here.”
“Don’t call me that.” Riley squinted as the sun glimmered off the sinking casket. “I’m not six.”
“Do you really want to sit here while they fill in the grave?”
“Yeah. I wanna sit here forever.”
He took a knee at her side. “Don’t talk like that. Lily wouldn’t have wanted you to give up just because something bad happened to her.”
Riley frowned.
“You’re all that’s left of her in this world, kiddo. I swear you two could be clones.”
“Great, my brain’s gonna explode too?”
Dad kept quiet for a moment as the casket slipped out of sight behind a line of grass. “Guess you’d better not work for a bank then.”
It took a second to register the meaning of her father’s words. He’d said it in such a matter-of-fact tone, with a straight face. Did he just crack a joke at Mom’s funeral? She blinked at him. As horrible as it was, she giggled―and couldn’t stop laughing.
He lowered himself to sit next to her, put an arm around her, and waved at the workers. “Don’t mind us.”
For an hour after the last shovelful of dirt fell, Riley sprawled in the grass, unable to find the strength to stand. Mina waited a few steps back, saintly in her patience. Her father and the woman exchanged a look.
“Come on, Riley.”
She didn’t move.
“Wouldn’t you rather sleep in your own room than out here?”
Riley crawled to the edge where grass gave way to dirt. “I don’t want to leave her here.”
Dad stooped next to her. “Your mother’s at peace now.”
She collected a few tears in her hands and poured them over the grave. “I love you, Mom.”
he sun forced its way through the heavy curtains over Mom’s bedroom window. Riley lay at the center of the queen-sized bed, curled up like a cat who lost her human. Blue flannel pajamas―selected because they lacked smiling bears―stopped an inch above her ankles, leaving her feet cold. She had hated spending three nights at the shelter, the whole time wanting to be in her own room again. After only an hour of staring at a square of moonlight on her bedroom ceiling, she migrated here. Mom’s presence lingered in the air. The bedspread still smelled of perfume and shampoo. Mother always showered at night―there was never enough time in the morning.
She looked from the limp hand a few inches in front of her face to the flaking blue glitter-infused polish on her toenails. Mom was still alive when I painted them. The door creaked open as her father walked in, trailed by the fragrance of coffee―coffee Mom bought.
He scuffed up to the edge of the mattress. “Are you hungry?”
“Mmm.”
“We could hit Denny’s or something.”
Mom has food downstairs. “Mmf.”
“I’m sorry… we need to figure out what we’re keeping and what we can’t take with us.”
“Mmm.
” She hugged her knees to her chest, curling her toes.
“About a week. Maybe two. There’s a lawyer coming by soon to help with everything.”
Riley grunted.
“I know you want to stay here, but it’s just not possible.”
She sniffled.
Dad sat on the edge of the mattress. “I miss her too.”
No, you don’t. You’re just saying that. She stared at her feet, daydreaming about the trip to the mall with her Mom and Amber. Some little Chinese woman sold the nail polish from a fake pushcart. Mom had a cheeseburger at Friday’s afterward, and gave the waiter a hard time over not getting sweet potato fries like she’d asked for.
“Mmm.”
“I was going to sell this bed since I don’t have room for it, but I suppose we can keep it in storage so you can go visit it.”
We’re going to New Mexico. I won’t be able to visit Mom. She sniffled again and wiped her nose.
He sipped his coffee. “You know the Sentra is paid off. You can get a permit at fifteen. We could keep it.”
Riley sat up, twisting to face him. “Really? I thought you wanted to sell everything and forget her.”
“I couldn’t forget her if I wanted to.” He offered a weak smile, as if discussing something as blasé as his favorite sandwich. “It’s just a matter of practicality. I’ve only got so much room and… keeping the car, I’m going to have to pay someone to ship it.”
“I wanna keep it ‘cause it was hers.” She scooted to the edge and let her legs hang. “I could get a summer job or something to help. Mom wanted me to get a job this year anyway.”
“I think you should take the summer to come to terms with things. I know I haven’t been part of your life for a long time, but this is a lot for a kid your age to handle.”
“Why did you leave?” She frowned at the carpet. Mom liked powder blue.
The Summer the World Ended Page 4
