sorry.”
“Thank you.”
They sat with Zola in the waiting room for a long time. Things were quiet and somber until Todd said, “Let’s get out of here.”
Outside, Mark stopped and said, “I guess I need to call Mr. Tanner.”
—
FOR THE REST of Tuesday and throughout Wednesday, Todd and Mark stayed close to Zola. She was unable to work and lost her job as a temp with the accounting firm. It was seasonal anyway. When Todd put in a few hours at the bar, Mark stayed with her. They took long walks around the city, hanging out in bookstores, window-shopping, and thawing out in coffee bars. When Mark puttered around Ness Skelton, Todd took her to the movies. They stayed in her apartment each night, though she assured them she was fine. She wasn’t. None of them were. They were sleepwalking through a nightmare and needed each other.
As other law students drifted back to town, they wanted to talk about Gordy, conversations the three preferred to avoid. On Thursday night, one carload drove to Martinsburg for visitation at the funeral home, but Mark, Todd, and Zola decided to skip it. A party materialized later that night at a popular sports bar, and they spent an hour with friends. They left when the beer was flowing and their fellow students began offering toasts to Gordy.
Mark was relieved when Brenda did not call. He did not want to speak at the funeral, and knew it was unlikely anyway. Neither he nor Todd was asked to be a pallbearer, another relief. The service would be dreadful enough. They planned to stay away from the families and watch it from a distance, if that was possible. There was even talk of not attending, but that would have been wrong.
On Friday, Mark and Todd dressed in their nicest suits, white shirts, subdued ties, leather shoes, their best “interview uniforms,” and picked up Zola, who wore a long black dress and looked like a model. They drove ninety minutes to Martinsburg and scoped out the church, a pretty redbrick building with lots of stained glass. A crowd was already milling around the front steps. A hearse was parked at the curb. At 1:30, they entered the vestibule and took programs from an usher. On the cover was a handsome photo of their friend. Mark asked the usher about a balcony and he pointed at some stairs. It was still empty when they sat down in the rear pew, tucked away in a remote corner of the sanctuary, as far away as possible from the pulpit.
Zola sat between them and wiped her cheeks with a tissue. “This is all my fault,” she said and began crying. They didn’t scold her and they didn’t argue. Let the grieving run its course. There would be plenty of time to hash it out later. Mark and Todd felt like crying too but managed to keep their composure.
The church was beautiful, with a wood-paneled choir loft slightly elevated behind the pulpit and a massive pipe organ to one side. Behind the loft was a painting of Christ on the cross. Stained-glass windows lined the walls and provided plenty of light. Four sections of pews formed a semicircle around a center aisle. As they waited, a crew of solemn men set up dozens of flower arrangements on both sides of the pulpit.
The pews were filling quickly and soon there were others in the balcony. The Tanners and Karveys had lived in Martinsburg for generations and an overflow crowd was expected. Mark was reminded of his little fictional scenario when the town learned that one of its favorite sons had run off with an African Muslim, jilting his childhood sweetheart. Jilting everyone who knew Gordy. It was almost humorous a few days earlier, but not so much at the moment. Fortunately, the town would never know. If things had gone as planned, in about four months Mark and Todd would have been standing down there as groomsmen watching Brenda walk down the aisle. Now they were hiding in the balcony, paying their respects while trying to avoid the family.
An organist took her position and began playing a quiet dirge that seemed
“Thank you.”
They sat with Zola in the waiting room for a long time. Things were quiet and somber until Todd said, “Let’s get out of here.”
Outside, Mark stopped and said, “I guess I need to call Mr. Tanner.”
—
FOR THE REST of Tuesday and throughout Wednesday, Todd and Mark stayed close to Zola. She was unable to work and lost her job as a temp with the accounting firm. It was seasonal anyway. When Todd put in a few hours at the bar, Mark stayed with her. They took long walks around the city, hanging out in bookstores, window-shopping, and thawing out in coffee bars. When Mark puttered around Ness Skelton, Todd took her to the movies. They stayed in her apartment each night, though she assured them she was fine. She wasn’t. None of them were. They were sleepwalking through a nightmare and needed each other.
As other law students drifted back to town, they wanted to talk about Gordy, conversations the three preferred to avoid. On Thursday night, one carload drove to Martinsburg for visitation at the funeral home, but Mark, Todd, and Zola decided to skip it. A party materialized later that night at a popular sports bar, and they spent an hour with friends. They left when the beer was flowing and their fellow students began offering toasts to Gordy.
Mark was relieved when Brenda did not call. He did not want to speak at the funeral, and knew it was unlikely anyway. Neither he nor Todd was asked to be a pallbearer, another relief. The service would be dreadful enough. They planned to stay away from the families and watch it from a distance, if that was possible. There was even talk of not attending, but that would have been wrong.
On Friday, Mark and Todd dressed in their nicest suits, white shirts, subdued ties, leather shoes, their best “interview uniforms,” and picked up Zola, who wore a long black dress and looked like a model. They drove ninety minutes to Martinsburg and scoped out the church, a pretty redbrick building with lots of stained glass. A crowd was already milling around the front steps. A hearse was parked at the curb. At 1:30, they entered the vestibule and took programs from an usher. On the cover was a handsome photo of their friend. Mark asked the usher about a balcony and he pointed at some stairs. It was still empty when they sat down in the rear pew, tucked away in a remote corner of the sanctuary, as far away as possible from the pulpit.
Zola sat between them and wiped her cheeks with a tissue. “This is all my fault,” she said and began crying. They didn’t scold her and they didn’t argue. Let the grieving run its course. There would be plenty of time to hash it out later. Mark and Todd felt like crying too but managed to keep their composure.
The church was beautiful, with a wood-paneled choir loft slightly elevated behind the pulpit and a massive pipe organ to one side. Behind the loft was a painting of Christ on the cross. Stained-glass windows lined the walls and provided plenty of light. Four sections of pews formed a semicircle around a center aisle. As they waited, a crew of solemn men set up dozens of flower arrangements on both sides of the pulpit.
The pews were filling quickly and soon there were others in the balcony. The Tanners and Karveys had lived in Martinsburg for generations and an overflow crowd was expected. Mark was reminded of his little fictional scenario when the town learned that one of its favorite sons had run off with an African Muslim, jilting his childhood sweetheart. Jilting everyone who knew Gordy. It was almost humorous a few days earlier, but not so much at the moment. Fortunately, the town would never know. If things had gone as planned, in about four months Mark and Todd would have been standing down there as groomsmen watching Brenda walk down the aisle. Now they were hiding in the balcony, paying their respects while trying to avoid the family.
An organist took her position and began playing a quiet dirge that seemed
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