were only two years apart. I heard Gwen was applying to
transfer to Loyola with Mads before the scandal broke out. Now I
don't know what she'll do." Amy says the word scandal like I should
know something about it. Must be the ethics thing mentioned in the
paper.
“Mmm.” I say noncommittally, trying for solemn
and sympathetic. “What was Mads like as a girl?” I ask this more to
keep Amy talking than anything else.
Amy purses her lips. “Smart, fun, kind of a
rebel.” On the word rebel she chokes up and hides behind a tissue.
I fold my hands in my lap. I don’t know how to do consoling. Maybe
if I did, Ashley would still be talking to me. Suddenly I miss
Ashley very much. Flash: what if this were Ashley’s memorial? Would
I be the red head in back crying at a stranger? Probably. I never
met her family. I spend a few minutes worrying about what to say to
this Amy person, and now the funeral director steps up to the
podium. The service can begin, thank God.
He gives some words about youth and sorrow and
he makes explanatory statements. The funeral tomorrow is a private
affair. This is the time for friends and acquaintances etc. Good
thing we came tonight. Sweet of the family to plan this around my
day off. I almost snicker but manage to hold it back. The service
continues and I tune it out. I’m looking diligently for any signs
of shades, lights, birds, anything to give me a direction that will
mean this wasn’t a wasted trip. At last I decide, if I’m going to
have a shot at being productive, I need to see people’s faces.
There’s an exit by the front. I figure I’ll get up and leave that
way ’looking for the bathroom’. My return should give me a few
seconds to scan the crowd. As quietly as I can, I stand up.
Schuyler gives me a questioning look that seems tinged with panic.
I pat his shoulder on my way to the aisle. I walk slowly forward.
All is going as planned so far. But now I look up and see the
funeral director is looking at me. What the hell? How have I messed
up a bathroom break? I raise my eyebrows, and am about to break eye
contact all together, when the snarky little man steps to the side,
clearly offering me the podium. Oh fuck. Vaguely I remember him
saying something about friends and relatives... what was it? Oh no!
I have timed my actions sooo badly.
“It’s okay.” The director says softly. “I know
it’s hard to be first, but I’ll thank you right now for starting us
off. I for one am glad to hear what you remember about
Madeline.”
Oh man. I look over my shoulder at the people
gathered. They look encouragingly back at me. Awesome. I take my
place behind the podium. Aw hell... looking down, I wrack my brain
for what to say. I cross myself because it seems like the thing to
do. I raise my eyes, find Schuyler’s and open my mouth. “I haven’t
known Madeline very long.” I say. “But she really impressed me.” I
suck in my breath and straighten my shoulders. “She was brave and
strong. From the first moment we met, she treated me as if she’d
known me for years.” Here I choke up, a little embarrassing but
seemly. “I could tell she was in trouble, as I’m sure any of us
could. I wish I’d done something to help her, but the last time I
saw her she was trying to help me. Madeline was reckless, maybe,
but she had a lot of tenacity. She said what she wanted to say,
even if the consequences were going to be bad. I admired her. I can
still see the way she’d stick out her chin. She was defiant, and
maybe that put her in a bad position sometimes, I don’t know. But
to me, that’s what defined her, and what was so inspiring about
her.” I dare a look at the family. Tom and Sally are staring numbly
ahead, but Gwen is nodding at me. “I am so sorry she’s gone.” I
say. “I know I will never forget her. Mads’ face, that expression
of victory in the middle of defeat, it’s burned in my brain.” I
sniffle. “She was really someone to know.”
Wow, that was inane. I
transfer to Loyola with Mads before the scandal broke out. Now I
don't know what she'll do." Amy says the word scandal like I should
know something about it. Must be the ethics thing mentioned in the
paper.
“Mmm.” I say noncommittally, trying for solemn
and sympathetic. “What was Mads like as a girl?” I ask this more to
keep Amy talking than anything else.
Amy purses her lips. “Smart, fun, kind of a
rebel.” On the word rebel she chokes up and hides behind a tissue.
I fold my hands in my lap. I don’t know how to do consoling. Maybe
if I did, Ashley would still be talking to me. Suddenly I miss
Ashley very much. Flash: what if this were Ashley’s memorial? Would
I be the red head in back crying at a stranger? Probably. I never
met her family. I spend a few minutes worrying about what to say to
this Amy person, and now the funeral director steps up to the
podium. The service can begin, thank God.
He gives some words about youth and sorrow and
he makes explanatory statements. The funeral tomorrow is a private
affair. This is the time for friends and acquaintances etc. Good
thing we came tonight. Sweet of the family to plan this around my
day off. I almost snicker but manage to hold it back. The service
continues and I tune it out. I’m looking diligently for any signs
of shades, lights, birds, anything to give me a direction that will
mean this wasn’t a wasted trip. At last I decide, if I’m going to
have a shot at being productive, I need to see people’s faces.
There’s an exit by the front. I figure I’ll get up and leave that
way ’looking for the bathroom’. My return should give me a few
seconds to scan the crowd. As quietly as I can, I stand up.
Schuyler gives me a questioning look that seems tinged with panic.
I pat his shoulder on my way to the aisle. I walk slowly forward.
All is going as planned so far. But now I look up and see the
funeral director is looking at me. What the hell? How have I messed
up a bathroom break? I raise my eyebrows, and am about to break eye
contact all together, when the snarky little man steps to the side,
clearly offering me the podium. Oh fuck. Vaguely I remember him
saying something about friends and relatives... what was it? Oh no!
I have timed my actions sooo badly.
“It’s okay.” The director says softly. “I know
it’s hard to be first, but I’ll thank you right now for starting us
off. I for one am glad to hear what you remember about
Madeline.”
Oh man. I look over my shoulder at the people
gathered. They look encouragingly back at me. Awesome. I take my
place behind the podium. Aw hell... looking down, I wrack my brain
for what to say. I cross myself because it seems like the thing to
do. I raise my eyes, find Schuyler’s and open my mouth. “I haven’t
known Madeline very long.” I say. “But she really impressed me.” I
suck in my breath and straighten my shoulders. “She was brave and
strong. From the first moment we met, she treated me as if she’d
known me for years.” Here I choke up, a little embarrassing but
seemly. “I could tell she was in trouble, as I’m sure any of us
could. I wish I’d done something to help her, but the last time I
saw her she was trying to help me. Madeline was reckless, maybe,
but she had a lot of tenacity. She said what she wanted to say,
even if the consequences were going to be bad. I admired her. I can
still see the way she’d stick out her chin. She was defiant, and
maybe that put her in a bad position sometimes, I don’t know. But
to me, that’s what defined her, and what was so inspiring about
her.” I dare a look at the family. Tom and Sally are staring numbly
ahead, but Gwen is nodding at me. “I am so sorry she’s gone.” I
say. “I know I will never forget her. Mads’ face, that expression
of victory in the middle of defeat, it’s burned in my brain.” I
sniffle. “She was really someone to know.”
Wow, that was inane. I
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