Page 50 of Love at a Funeral and Other Awkward Conversations

I leave Alvarado and Vince behind while Gracie and I not-so-subtly sneak off. My parents are wearing the tournament T-shirts I got them, and they’re both smiling.

I never thought I’d see that again.

Mom brings her hands to her lips. “Wow, Cassie.”

“I’m impressed,” Dad tells me with his hands on his hips. He’s got sunglasses on, but I can tell he’s crying from the way he sniffs and clears his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you with it.”

Genuine disbelief has my jaw hanging open. At this conversation, and because he’s suggesting he would’ve somehow helped me.

“You did good,” he tells me. “RJ would be proud.”

A jumble of emotions clogs my throat, and I can’t separate any of my words into coherent sentences. This is my chance. I can lay it all out. Ask him why he hasn’t been coming home, tell him he’s a jerk, demand he face what’s happened to our family.

But I don’t.

I say, “Thank you.”

Because I’m a coward.

He pats my shoulder, in a “good game” kind of way. He’s not exactly emotional, let alone physically effusive, so this contact—even small—is a step in the right direction for mending our rocky relationship. I can work on telling him the truth later.

Maybe this tournament did help my family in some small way. Miracle of miracles.

Mom follows him with watery eyes to the concession stand where they buy waters, and my sudden goodwill toward my dad evaporates when he rolls his eyes at my now-weeping mother after one of RJ’s coworkers hugs her.

And I want to scream.

But I can’t. I’ve got a tournament to run.

I tuck my topsy-turvy mood aside as I check the time. Signaling to Juan to lower the volume of the music, I take hold of the microphone. “Hey…hello…” Heads swivel in my direction, and I try again. “Hi, everybody. Over here.” I wave my arm in the air, and my stomach churns when everything goes quiet, all eyes on me. I reach for the top of Gracie’s head, her fur reassuring under my fingertips. “My name is Cass, and Raymond was my older brother. I want to thank everyone for coming today. Seeing so many people here, hearing you speak about Ray, knowing what he meant to you all, makes losing him a little bit easier.”

These words are an absolute lie, but the crowd eats it up. Nothing makes losing him easier.

“Since Ray loved baseball, there’s no better way to honor his memory than to play a couple innings in his name. Let’s have a little fun today.”

A round of applause begins, and I move to put the microphone down, but Mr. Alvarado swoops in out of nowhere to snatch it from my hand. “Thank you, Cass,” he says and then sweeps his arm out in front of him, “and thank you all for coming. My name is Victor Alvarado, and I’m the principal of Edison Middle School. Go Leopards!”

That sparks a few woots and claps from the crowd, and I roll my neck to release the tension.

“RJ was a beloved teacher at Edison, and we were all devastated when we heard the news of his sudden passing.”

I squeeze the bridge of my nose.

“His fellow teachers and some of his students are proud to be here to represent him on this beautiful day, and we cannot thank everyone enough for their generous participation in this event to raise money for our school.”

With my hand on my temple, I turn to my left, where the news camera crew is filming all of this. Mr. Alvarado’s big grin, the cheering crowd, the perfect blue sky, and I think it would make a feel-good ending to some movie, one where everyone learns to celebrate life or some bullshit.

I’m sick of Alvarado’s self-congratulatory speech and search for an escape. I spot my parents not too far away and make my way to them, keeping Gracie close at my heels.

“Do you want to say anything?” I ask them. Might as well, since the speeches have already gone off the rails.

“No,” Dad says.

Mom’s voice squeaks from behind her fist still pressed to her lips. “I think, maybe, I’d like to.”

“You would?” My eyes practically bug out of my head.

Dad is just as stunned. “Donna, really?” he admonishes.

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