CHAPTER NINETEEN

I was the last person to speak at Caroline’s funeral. I’d tried my best to stay composed as her parents and family recalled stories and anecdotes about her life, but it was a losing battle. I bent down to light the Donut Shop candle that was meant to smell like coffee and then stepped behind the podium. My heels sank into the soft grass as I shuffled back and forth, eying the note cards in my hands and willing my voice into submission. When I finally looked up, the sun was shining through one of the trees overhead so that I had to squint to keep my eyes from watering.

“ My name is Abby Mae McAllister,” I began, and the microphone rang out a high pitched noise causing everyone to groan and cover their ears. I cleared my throat awkwardly and shifted a few inches away before trying again. “Um… I never knew Caroline when she was healthy. We met when we were both sick and staying in the hospital for treatment. She was wearing this pink bow headband the first time I met her…” I held my hand over my head to show them how high the bow had been. “We met in a group for sick teens that I had planned on skipping. My mother eventually talked me into going, but I wasn’t in a socializing mood. I remember sitting on a metal chair moping when Caroline plopped down in the seat next to me. This was a support group for kids in the hospital, mind you, so it wasn’t surprising that most of the people there had a gloom and doom attitude. But, not Caroline. She wouldn’t stop talking. She yammered on forever and eventually I had to cave and answer her for fear that she would never stop.”

“ She was an in-your-face type of person. She weaseled her way into my life and took root until one day I woke up and couldn’t go a single day without talking to her. We bonded over everything: boys, books, annoying nurses.” I half-smiled toward the nurses who’d come from the hospital. “We talked about our funerals as most sick kids do. It takes the edge off. As if by talking about death, suddenly it no longer holds power over you.” I cleared my throat and shuffled behind the podium, pleading with my tears to stay in the corner of my eyes.

“ She had a few demands for today.” I looked down at the note cards shaking in my hands so much that I couldn’t actually read the scribbled words anymore. I recalled the night in the hospital when we were supposed to be sleeping in our separate rooms, but the nurses looked the other way. We stayed up late laying out what our funerals would be like as if it was one big joke.

“ She wanted all of her old friends from school to be here.” I looked up to where a group of teenagers sat wiping tears away with tissues. I hadn’t seen any of them visit Caroline in recent months. “She wanted the service to be outside. A place she rarely got to visit in the last few weeks.” And then I smiled at the last request. “She also demanded that I bring Orlando Bloom as my date. I tried to contact his people, but I never heard back, so instead I brought this.” I motioned toward the lifeless prop next to me. I’d searched everywhere around town and could only find a cut-out of him dressed as an elf from Lord of The Rings. The top of the cardboard was bending forward so that his bow looked rather limp.

I cleared my throat and pressed on. “I told her that I would play “Sweet Caroline” as a joke. She forbid me under penalty of death,” I paused at the finality of that word before taking a deep breath and continuing, “but Caroline was my best friend. We were there to push each other’s buttons, so in one last attempt to annoy her…”

I bent down and hit play on the iPod lying next to the podium. Neil Diamond’s voice began to croon through the speakers as I took a step back. I had to stay up front while the song played so that I could take the iPod and candle off at the end. My eyes scanned the rows of people, taking in the crowd. They all held sad smiles and wet tissues. I didn’t recognize most of them. They must have been her relatives. So many of them shared her dark brown hair. My parents were up front with Caroline’s mom and dad.

My eyes kept scanning until I passed by her old high school friends. Then I looked toward the last row of seats that was occupied by a single person: Beck.

He sat with his hands folded between his legs. He was wearing a fitted black suit with a black tie that sat crooked around his neck. He looked like he was a boy on the cusp of manhood. His unruly brown hair wasn’t styled or anything, but it was still longish on top, curling at the ends. He filled out his suit perfectly, as if he’d owned it for years but only recently grown into it.

I couldn’t believe he was there. And yet I’d hoped he would be.

He was watching me with sad hazel eyes, and for the first minute of that song, our eyes never left each other. My gaze held immense grief, his held immense empathy. But then as the song kept playing and the crescendo hit, Beck sat up straight and lip-synced the words. His eyes closed and a smirk spread across his lips. He put his heart and soul into each syllable and then when the “bum, bum, bum” of the trumpet hit, he punched his hand into the air three times with the beat.

No one else could see him, but that didn’t stop me from starting to laugh. Leave it to Beck to put life back into perspective. Caroline wanted me to be happy; she wanted people to sing at her funeral, not cry. So I reached down and spiked the volume of the speakers until the sounds of sniffling were drowned out. The song’s happy tempo blasted on and Beck and I brought it home, singing loudly and pointing to each other when the lyrics called for it. We were separated by an audience of grief, but our singing pushed through it.

When Neil’s voice trailed off and the song ended, I stood there for a moment, gathering my resolve and tucking my grief away for now.

One moment it was silent and then in the next life carried on. Caroline’s mom welcomed everyone to her house for food and drinks, and people began standing up and chattering amongst themselves.

I picked up the cardboard cutout and my stuff, and then kept walking until I reached the last row of seats. Beck stood to greet me and I took in his handsome features. He ran his hand under his cleanly-shaven chin, taking me in from my kitten heels to my sad smile.

When our eyes locked, I exhaled a deep breath, letting it carry away everything: a pound of immense sadness, my worry that things with Beck had changed, and the nerves from speaking about Caroline while attempting to hold it together. It was the feeling you get when you fall face first into bed after a long day. That’s what being near Beck felt like.

He stepped toward me, stuffing his hands in the pant pockets of his form-fitting suit, and offered me a sad smile. People shuffled around us, making their way to their cars. But we stood there, communicating without words and letting the moment sink in. I ran my fingers through my long hair and tilted my head to the side.

“ I missed you,” he offered quietly.

I smiled despite the circumstances. “I kissed a gay guy and I judged a strip-off at a gay club.”

His features morphed from thoughtful repose to complete shock, mixed with humor in a matter of milliseconds.

“ Wow.” He cocked his eyebrows.

“ Are you mad?” I asked. My hand was still wrapped around cardboard Orlando Bloom.

He shook his head and stepped closer. “I’m impressed . That must have taken some skill. Was he a better kisser than me?”

I thought back. “His lips tasted like strawberries and I was just tipsy enough to convince myself that he looked a little bit like you.”

Beck rocked back on his heels and laughed. “So… he had brown hair?”

I mashed my lips together and nodded. “That was the only similarity it turns out.”

Beck squeezed his eyes closed and laughed harder.

“ But, no. He wasn’t better than you,” I clarified, looking away to find my parents, or so I told myself. They were making their way over with confused expressions. Oh right, I was communicating with someone from the opposite sex.

“ That was such a good speech, Abs. Caroline would have loved it,” my dad offered when they reached me. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and tugged me closer, then looked up at Beck. There was an awkward silence for a moment before I realized I was meant to introduce everyone.

“ Um, Mom and Dad, this is Beck.”

“ Oh!” my mom clapped her hands together in recognition of his name. I guess it wasn’t hard to remember the one guy that had ever answered my phone.

“ Hi Mrs. McAllister, Mr. McAllister.” Beck offered his hand respectfully. I chanced a glance up to my mom to see her beaming from ear to ear.

“ So you’re the boy that whisked my daughter away on a secret road trip?” My dad joked, but his tone held an edge of sternness.

“ Paul!” My mother swatted my dad’s arm playfully.

“ Actually your daughter whisked me away on a road trip.” Beck shot me a private smile.

I just gripped Orlando Bloom and prayed that he would come to life and save us from this awkward moment.

“ Will you be joining us at the Pruett’s house?” my mom asked with a hopeful glint in her eye. Shouldn’t she hate him? Sure, maybe it wasn’t his idea to go on a road trip, but he was still a young guy who was most likely a bad influence on me.

His gaze flitted from mine toward my mother. “Actually, no, I have a family dinner, but I wanted to come and show my support for Abby.” His words were so sincere. I wanted to kiss him in front of my parents, at my friend’s funeral, with Orlando limply watching on.

“ Oh,” my mother answered, flitting her gaze between us, most likely trying to pin down what exactly was going on. “Okay, well it was wonderful meeting you. Abby, we’ll be in the car.” I loved my mother extra hard for dragging my father behind her and giving Beck and I one last moment of privacy.

“ You’re wearing the locket,” Beck noted. I hadn’t taken it off since the flea market. It rested around my neck, just above my scar.

“ I haven’t changed the photos yet,” I shrugged, playing down the fact that it was now one of my most favorite possessions.

“ I like it,” he murmured. I looked up at him from beneath my lashes.

“ Do you really have a family dinner?” I asked.

“ Just with my dad,” he answered with narrowed eyes.

I nodded. “You don’t seem so excited about it.”

“ He doesn’t know about my MIT transfer yet. I imagine it won’t be a very pleasant meal.”

I frowned, wishing I could help him bear the burden.

“ Do you want to take Orlando Bloom for support?” I offered him a half smile.

Beck dropped his head and laughed. “Nah, I’ll let you keep him. I don’t think my dad would get the joke.”

The conversation seemed over. I thought he’d turn and head toward his truck, but instead he asked, “Are we going to finish the trip?”

My mouth hung open as I waited for my brain to catch up. I didn’t know the answer to that. My grief over Caroline was a living thing. It grew and slept, dormant at times, and then wild and all-consuming when I least expected. Would she have wanted me to finish the road trip? Probably, but I didn’t agree with her logic anymore.

“ I’m not sure.” I stared at my Mary Jane heels.

“ It was just getting started, Abby. Think about it,” he answered before dipping down and kissing my cheek. I inhaled his scent and warmth before he turned and walked away.

…

I did think about it. I thought about it as I grocery shopped with my mom. I thought about it as I went to my weekly check-up. My doctor was reprimanding me about missing my appointment and then she mentioned something about increasing my medication dosage. My mom took notes while I thought about Beck’s question and stared at Dr. Pierce’s mahogany desk. When I’d come in for the appointment, I tried to find Alyssa, but I guess she wasn’t working that day. I still had the note she gave me tucked safely inside my wallet. It was taunting me. The fact that I had the address on me at all times. Maybe I’d never use it.

My mom dragged me back to the career counselor for another hour-long session. At least this time my counselor had the results from my career aptitude test. Apparently, I was most suited to be one of the following:

1. Park Ranger

2. Biomedical Engineer

3. Accountant

4. Writer

How in the hell she had arrived at any of those four jobs was beyond my understanding.

“ I’m not sure I want to do any of those,” I admitted, looking up toward Dr. Lucas.

She smiled knowingly toward me. One of those slow, condescending smiles that basically said ‘oh, sweet naive little girl ’.

“ Those are just starting points, Abby. From here, we’ll narrow down other career paths and then decide where you should apply for college.”

I zoned out and decided to spend the remainder of our meeting thinking of Caroline and Beck. They would have been good friends. They were both optimistic and friendly. I would have been the cynical glue that held the group together.

I texted Beck later that day.

Abby : I’m apparently suited for one of the following jobs: Park ranger, writer, accountant, and some weird type of engineering…

Beck : Who told you those were your career options?

Abby : My life coach.

Beck : Seems like the sort of thing you find out by living and trying different things out…

Abby : Do you want to be my new counselor?

Beck : Conflict of interest…

Abby : Oh…

I smiled at the idea that he still liked me, but I wasn’t going to question it. Maybe the stars aligned perfectly when he walked into the funeral home and he was helpless to my alluring charm.

Abby : How was dinner with your dad?

Beck : He wasn’t too thrilled, but he isn’t paying for my school, so there isn’t much he could do about it. I know I’m making the right choice though.

Abby : I’m glad you told him.

Beck : Me too.

Abby : Could you send me your address?

Beck : Why?

Abby : Reasons…

Date: 2015-02-16; view: 482