Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I run my eyes around the room. I don’t see any children, but it’s not uncommon for the immediate family to stay sequestered in a different room until right before the funeral begins.
I do spot someone I know, and oddly enough, she’s standing off to the side alone.
“Mrs. Taylor,” I say, walking up to Janet’s mother.
She offers me both hands when I reach out to her, a sadness in her eyes I can’t even fathom.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Sweet Roger,” she says with a soft smile and a gentle pat to my hands. “You were always such a kind boy.”
I give her a weak smile, but I don’t correct her mistake. The woman just lost her daughter. Now is not the time to remind her of who I actually am.
“Mom, there you are. We’re about to get started.”
I turn in the direction of the voice that should be more familiar than it actually is, but Mila doesn’t even look my way as she grabs Mrs. Taylor’s hand and begins to pull her across the room.
“Don’t be rude, dear,” the older Taylor chastises. “Tell Roger hello.”
“Hello, Roger,” Mila mutters before walking away.
I narrow my eyes at the woman’s back.
I consider that maybe she’s just as upset, overwhelmed, and so lost in her grief like her mom, that she’s just going through the motions. I’ve met Mrs. Taylor several times when I was younger. Carlen was always with Janet, and since he was my best friend, which meant I was also always with Janet. A lot of times that included hanging out at her house as teens because Mrs. Taylor, as a mom to girls, was stricter than mine and Carlen’s parents were.
Mila was always a part of that little group whenever she got a chance, but it wasn’t the time spent sitting in front of the television or the trips to the rec center swimming pool Mila should remember. The last time I was in town visiting Carlen and Janet, I was on leave from the Corps. His father had just passed away from a long battle with cancer, and I was in town for the funeral.
That night ended with Mila knocking on the door to the above-garage apartment Carlen had set me up in for the night. The sun was well into the sky by the time she left that room, so the “Hello, Roger” stings a little. It doesn’t take much effort to recall the taste of the beer she drank on her lips.
A man steps up to the podium at the front of the room, a silent command for all of us still standing and lingering around to take our seats.
I drop into one of the pews, my eyes darting toward Mila and her mom sitting off to the side. The boys are sitting there, but Luca and Jace look nothing like I remember. Kids grow so incredibly fast. Luca was still in diapers the last time I saw them. Jace looks desolate and glum, his eyes locked on his hands folded into his lap. Luca, the younger of the two boys, is looking around, seemingly bored and probably still too young to fully understand what all of this means and how it will change his life forever.
Mrs. Taylor sits between the two of them, her eyes locked straight ahead. Mila, with her red-rimmed eyes, sits on the other side, her chest heaving up and down as if she’s having a hard time keeping herself together. Four people. That’s all the family these two people have left. It’s possibly one of the saddest things I’ve ever seen.
The man at the front of the room begins to speak, his words mostly impersonal other than the sprinkle of information he’s been given by the family. Even the music that plays seems indifferent. I consider that there’s a possibility that my own bias and anger with this entire situation is making everything seem like it’s not enough because they deserved better. We shouldn’t be here right now with two caskets in the front of the room. There shouldn’t be two little boys off to the side saying goodbye to both of their parents. It’s tragic and sad and unfair.
My jaw clenches, my hands tightening into fists.
I’ve been to too many funerals in my lifetime. I’ve lost too many people I care about, but this is so much worse. In war, loss of life is expected. Not many make it through their time in the service without having to say goodbye to someone.
This is more atrocious, but not because Carlen was my oldest friend. I met many others in the Corps that I was just as close to. There’s just something about the danger that comes along with being in the military that has the power to force you to make unbreakable bonds with others.