Page 40 of Love at a Funeral and Other Awkward Conversations

I hug him limply as he pounds my back like we’re old buddies.

“I wasn’t sure if I should reach out or not, but I’m glad I did. We all really miss RJ at school.” He utters the last bit like a prayer, his lips losing their affable curl.

“I miss him too,” I say, moving to sit down.

Mr. Alvarado stops me with a gesture to the glass case with pizza behind it. “Let’s grab something to eat first, huh?”

I follow him to the counter and order one slice of plain along with his two mushroom and pepperoni. “I love this place,” he says. “We order from here when we have faculty meetings or parties at school.” He pays and accepts our slices with a “Thanks, Joe,” then leads me back to a booth.

Mr. Alvarado is so in control, it’s hard not to let him lead me, and I’m grateful when he speaks, even if he is a little overeager. There aren’t any awkward silences I need to fill up. He talks about how my brother’s students are dealing with his death and how they’re still getting used to his replacement. He tells me a story about a boy named Sam. “Miss Hale, the teacher we brought into his classroom, started to take down RJ’s posters, and Sam lost it. Absolutely lost it. He started arguing with her, yelling at her that she couldn’t touch his stuff, and the other kids got into it too. It was a bit of a mess, but it shows you how much his students loved him.”

I rip my leftover crust into pieces. “Yeah,” I agree. “He was a good guy.”

“So,” Mr. Alvarado says, “what did you have in mind for the benefit?”

“Um. I was thinking maybe a baseball game, but I’m not sure how to go about setting it all up.”

“A baseball game would be great. I’m sure so many people would love to participate. I’d assume his baseball players would want to play. A ton of our faculty would want to get in on this, obviously.” He goes on about some pep rally they had at the school and how my brother would usually be the MC, but this year, another teacher did it and something about a mascot, but I can’t be sure because my mind wanders.

Ever since I told Mr. Alvarado I’d do this, I’ve been feeling knots in my stomach. It’s been a few months since my brother passed away, and I’ve gotten to a place where I don’t think about him every minute—down to a few dozen times a day—but agreeing to do this, he’s back in front of me. Every step, every sentence, every thought revolves around the memory of my brother. Or the legend, for how Mr. Alvarado talks about him.

“Anyway, have you thought about what the money would go toward?” he asks, and when I don’t have an answer, he toggles his head back and forth. “Our computer lab could use some new computers.”

He steamrolls me, and it’s hard to say no. “Oh? Yeah, okay, we’ll buy some new computers for the school.”

He claps once, and his excitement builds as he goes on about ticket sales and concessions. He tells me he’ll help advertise the event. “I’ve got forty teachers to help spread the word. You let me know what you need, and I’ll be there.”

“That’s great. Thank you.”

“Anything. Anything you need. RJ’s death was a big loss for a lot of people, you know. We’re all trying to find a way out of this.”

His words take my breath away, and my throat closes. It’s true. I’m lost, trying to find my way out. He gives me a goodbye hug, but I stay for a while after he leaves, taking out my phone to Google How to run a benefit baseball game.

It brings up a ton of websites for baseball teams and fundraisers and benefits, and my brain swirls. I buy the book Fundraising for Dummies, hoping it’s a good place to start. The knot in my gut pulls tighter. Having an event where people could come together to celebrate Raymond, have fun in his name, would be a perfect tribute, but it’s a lot of work. More stress, more grief, most likely more pain.

But in the end, though, it’s not about me. It’s about my brother, and his students, that Sam kid. It’s for his coworkers, his baseball players, his friends. It’s for Mom and Dad, and hopefully a jump start to a different future, and our family of three.

MAY 1

Save the date! In honor of my brother, Raymond St. George, we will kick the summer off with a baseball benefit on June 22nd. We’ll be raising money to fund new computers for Edison Middle School. Stay tuned for more details!

#Grief #RaymondStGeorge #Baseball #Benefit #Fundraising

CHAPTER 16

With spring growing to summer, the outdoor patio at Sassie’s is the most popular place for customers to sit and where they leave the best tips. It’s also where Gary catches me leaning in the corner of the door, reading articles about acquiring fundraising sponsors on my cell phone. He tells me he’ll write me up if he catches me with it again. I grin at him overeagerly with a thumbs-up before tucking the phone away. At this point, there’s not much left for me to be afraid of.

“Got a three-top at thirteen,” the hostess tells me as I’m refilling waters for one of my tables. I acknowledge her and roll back around to my left, barely acknowledging the patrons. “Hi, my name’s Cassandra, and I’ll be your server today.” I flip open the beer menu. “Would you like to start off with something from one of our taps?”

I glance up from the list of beers and do a double take. “Vince.”

“Cass.” His closed-lip smile is secretive, and with his sunglasses on, I don’t know where he’s focusing, but I self-consciously tug on my skimpy top, trying to cover up as much skin as possible. “Long time no talk,” he says breezily.

We haven’t spoken in about a week. Not since the winter have we gone without a text, phone call, or me tagging along as he works. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to put this baseball game together,” I say in a flurry, hoping he doesn’t catch my lie of omission—that he is making me face things I’m not ready for. “You’re out in the sun,” I tease. “Visiting from the Underworld?”

“Yep.” He gestures to the men across from and next to him. “This is my cousin Nick and my friend Ryan.”

“You guys in the death business too?” I ask.

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