Page 3 of Love at a Funeral and Other Awkward Conversations

“Do you want us to stay here until he arrives? Do you think your mother will need medical assistance?”

I once again look to my mom, trying to think. “I don’t—I’m sorry,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. Take your time. Why don’t you sit down, be with your mom for a bit? We’ll be right outside.”

I nod dumbly as the police officers shuffle out the front door. I don’t understand why he keeps telling me to sit down. I don’t want to sit down. “Mom?” I reach for her hand, wishing she’d tell me what to do. But she doesn’t, and I’m helpless. “Mommy?”

She lifts her head up, her cheeks red and blotchy, mascara all over her face, and her eyes widen like she’s seeing me for the first time. “Cassie! My boy! My boy is dead!”

She leaps off the sofa and picks up a framed photo of my brother in his college graduation cap. “He’s never coming home again. My baby is gone!”

I watch her, stunned, her wild voice and actions hindering my own ability to do anything other than agree. “I know.”

I slowly approach her, gently take the picture away from her and put it back before sitting her on the couch. She wraps her arms tightly around my shoulders, crying next to my ear. Her breaths are loud, shuddering sobs that take over her whole body and dampen my shirt.

“W-what are we going to do?” she stutters out. “What am I going to do now?”

My polished mother with her ironed slacks and pearl earrings—my no-nonsense mother, who has three different planners for any given day—my mother is asking me what to do. While she’s breaking down, I’m the one holding it together. And I still don’t know how to answer her questions.

I have no idea what to do now.

I hear the low hum of my dad’s Mercedes, and I tilt my head, catching a glimpse of shadows moving outside. There are soft murmurs and then a muffled sob before a howl. Like a lost wolf crying to the moon, and I cringe as the sound reverberates through my body. The pain invades all of my senses.

With my mother still clinging to me, I’m afraid to move, but I want to see my father. I need something—someone—to help center myself in the middle of this chaos since Mom is lost. Dad raised Ray and me to have a stiff upper lip, and I’m not sure how to do that right now. I need guidance or…or someone to tell me it’ll be okay.

I unclench my mom’s fingers from around my hand as I see my dad retreating to his car. I run outside, waving him down. “Dad!”

He doesn’t make a move to stop. Merely drops behind the wheel and takes off.

I bend over, my hands on my knees, out of breath.

“Cassandra, are you all right?” Officer Stone stands me up straight. “You look a little pale.”

“Where’s my dad going?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “People take this kind of news in all different ways. I tried to stop him, but…”

I face my house. The front door is open, all the lights on. My mother’s lying on the couch, her face pressed in toward the cushions.

“Your father mentioned Raymond’s wife. I assume she was out of the house when we stopped over there before.”

I blink a few times, trying to make my way through the fog that’s taken up residence in my head. “She takes the girls to gymnastics some nights. I don’t remember when… What day is it today?”

“Tuesday.”

I nod. “That’s probably where they were.”

“Would you like us to go back over and talk to her?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” I rub at the stinging in my eyes.

He assesses me with a squint. “Is there someone you can call to be with you?”

“I’ll call my aunt.”

“All right. We’ll wait until someone gets here.”

I head inside, pass Mom, and go to my room. The thread of the texts between me and Ray is up, and for a moment, I scroll back to his last message. Come on, Cass, I’ve known you your whole life. I know you’re not happy living there, move out.

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