Page 111 of Scrooged for the Holidays
The director continues. “She was preceded in death by her parents and leaves behind no immediate family.”
“No one?”
This time, the question is directed at me. “You chose work and building wealth over relationships. The life you saw before this was the life you lived.”
“But I really hadno one?”
Cold sadness pulses through Greer’s aura, sending a tremor up my spine, and I move to stand next to her, clenching my hands at my side. My chin angles to Avery, who’s looking toward the funeral director.
“I thought you said she moved on from my life.”
“She did, but she’s here, anyway. She organized the funeral since there was no one else to do it.”
Greer’s bottom lip quivers as she looks at her oldest friend, the person who has always been there for her even when she didn’t see it.
“There was no prepared statement or family contribution,” the director says. “So if you’d like to say a few words…?”
Avery shifts in her chair, her hands wringing in her lap. For a moment, it looks as if she’ll say no, but then she stands. She walks between Greer and I, taking the few steps up to the stage slowly with the help of the director. Instead of going to the podium, she stands in front of the ornate silver urn. She places her aged hand near the base of it and sucks in a ragged breath.
“I’m at a loss for words, but I’ll do my best.” She clears her throat. “Greer was once my best friend. She was kind, beautiful, and funny. We’d laugh for hours and rewatch the same animated shows over and over again until our moms would yell at us to go outside and play. I thought we’d grow old together, be those friends you see at coffee shops and at water aerobics classes after our husbands were gone, maybe raise kids together and be neighbors so they could grow up to be friends like we were. Then something changed. She changed.”
Her voice cracks, and she pauses. “Greer and I haven’t spoken in a long time, but I’d like to think she thought about me as much as I thought about her. I wish things were different, that this wasn’t how it ended for her. She died alone in that big house of hers, and it’s not right. I just hope that wherever she is now she has found peace, that she isn’t alone. Maybe her old dog, Cooper, is there with her.”
A choked noise has me turning to Greer, and before I can stop her, she’s up next to Avery. “I’m right here, Avery. I’m not dead.”
I exhale and step next to Greer. “You know she can’t see you.”
Her face hardens, and she turns to me, a flash of anger moving through her. “Is this really what happens to me?”
“It could be, Greer.”
She looks back at Avery, and a tear tracks down her cheek. “I didn’t think…”
I move closer so she meets my gaze. “You didn’t think…?”
“I didn’t think this is where I’d end up.” She steps around me and looks at all the empty chairs. She’s a mirror of the Greerwe saw standing in front of the fireplace, gaze vacant and smile withdrawn. It makes my heart ache.
“And where did you think you’d end up?”
Her chin drops before she meets my gaze. “I was fine with being alone—or at least, I thought I was. That Christmas, when I fought with my parents and my boyfriend broke up with me, when I was rude to Avery…I didn’t expect it would lead here.”
“Where did you think it would lead?”
Her chin drops to her chest, and she rubs a hand over her eyes, wiping away the tears. “I thought I could make myself happy, that success would fill the void of connections in my life. And maybe it’s stupid, but—”
Her voice falters, yet she forces the next words out.
“But despite it all, I think I always hoped that if I was good enough for my parents, if I could show Avery my sacrifices were worth it, that maybe—” Her voice breaks, another pulse of deep, bone-aching sadness flaring through her aura.
“…they would still find a way to love you?” I finish for her.
She nods and swipes away another tear as Avery and the funeral director leave the room. Greer and I are left standing together onstage in front of the urn.
I take her hands and look directly into her eyes. “I know you may not want to see it, but people do love you, Greer. They always have.”
“But how? You’ve seen what I’ve said, the things I’ve done in the name of…what? Money? Success? How could they still love someone like me? How could theywantto love someone like me? I deserve to die alone!”
The room around us dissolves, and we’re back at the inn, this time, in Greer’s room. The early light of Christmas Day streams through the windows, and the tree in the corner is lit in all its multicolored glory.
