The Dead Girl.

Life Without, 5

The line at the funeral home was massive. It must've contained everyone from the entire town (twice) and roped around the entire length of the building, starting from the front door and emptying into the bathrooms.

"Maybe we should have got here earlier," Stevie said nervously, smoothing her hair and nearly getting her ringed finger stuck within her curls. "It seems like we're going to be here a while. I mean, if anyone else needs to leave I'm sure that we can just have only one representative from the school and be fine..."

"No." Roddick said firmly so Kate, Carol, Marc, and the gaggle of church ladies in line in front of them turned to face him. "We'll wait. We owe that to her."

Kate snorted, but was silenced prematurely by Carol with a frosty look.

And so they waited. The line slowly progressed, and by the time nearly 45 minutes had passed, they had reached a memorial video at the entrance to the main room where the family members and coffin were. Pictures of Teague as a rambunctious toddler with a pacifier in her mouth and her mother's high heels on her feet, as a child missing her two front teeth while she displayed multicolor arms and legs, as a teenager getting ready for the Semi Formal in her blood red dress with studs and frills looking impatient as she stood at the top of her staircase, were being bounced off the walls by a projector. Interwoven between the shots of Teague in various stages of life were generic images of the sun breaking through clouds and tranquil beaches, as well as the sentimental gush quotes that made people weep at such occasions. Soft piano and violin music played in the background.

Stevie was crying silently, watching the enlarged images of Teague and grasping Carol's hand tightly. Carol herself seemed to be getting misty eyed, and surprisingly Marc did also. Kate looked bored (at best). Roddick, however, was impassive. Internally, every time there was a picture of Teague in her uniform or dancing with her friends at the prom, his throat closed and there was a terrible pain in his chest. This strawberry haired girl with missing teeth and freckles and a golden retriever were not the girl...woman, he had worshipped, loved, and adored. She could have been any girl that had wandered off too far and never came back.

"I can't believe it. I can't believe that she's dead," whispered two girls standing in front of the projector. Roddick looked closely at them; one was blonde and wearing a shirt dress, and the other had mousy brown bob with purple bangs. They looked familiar...

"They're students." Carol told him quietly. "I know- not seeing them in their uniform always throws me off too. I imagine half the school must've been here at one time or another today."

Roddick nodded, finally placing the girls. The blonde was Catie Wilcox, and the one with purple bangs was Kimmy Ignacio. He had never really seen either with Teague, but then again, he had never really seen anyone with Teague.

"There's Mr. Ashcroft," Catie said offhandedly to Kimmy, waving to Roddick. "Should we go say hello?"

But Kimmy was already approaching him (much to his dismay) and with a sniffled, "Mr. Ashcroft," she embraced him. Awkwardly, Roddick stroked her back as she began to cry onto his shirt, sobbing that she was so sorry for the way that she had treated Teague and that she wished she was still around to tell her. "I was goddamn awful to her," she wept to him. "I feel like it's my fault she's....gone."

"I'm sure that's not the reason Kimmy," he said looking over his shoulder and meeting Marc's hard glance as he let his hand linger at the small of her back. "C'mon now, didn't I teach you anything in science? An event is not caused by only one isolated incident."

Kimmy let out a watery laugh and finally released him, wiping the dark streaks off her cheeks and chin. "I just...I went to school on Monday, and after I heard about I was just looking for her everywhere. It was so weird not seeing her in the hallways or in my classes, you know?"

Roddick did know. It was the reason why he had not returned to teach yet. But he settled instead for a sympathetic nod and let Carol and Stevie take over the rest, as they both tightly hugged the girl and soothed her further.

By the time they had reached the casket, Roddick's heart was in his throat. The last wake he had been to was for his grandfather when he was only a teenager, and even then he hadn't reacted well to seeing the stoic war veteran that he had known under the soft glow of pink lighting in a pressed suit with enough powder on his face to rival any drag queen. He wanted to remember Teague the way she had always been; wild and unpredictable and beautiful, not some piece of furniture lying adorned in a wooden box. But yet, he couldn't bring himself to be anywhere but where he was.

"Thank god the casket is closed," said an elderly woman in back of Roddick. "After hearing how she did it, I was hesitant that they'd keep it open so that people could see."

"They can fix people up nowadays, but not that good." Another woman with an oxygen tank added.

"How did she do it?" Roddick wondered and did not realize until one of the women answered him that he had spoken aloud.

"Well lovie, she jumped off the Washington lake bridge. Awful mess of a thing...she was supposed to land in the lake but her foot caught on the railing and she ended up splattered all over the pavement, all bloody and-"

"Please." Marc said, his eyes closed tightly and his face ashen. "That's quite enough."

Roddick agreed. It was bad enough that every time he now closed his eyes he saw her bent and broken body laid out on the pavement, looking like a gory rendition of a Jackson Pollock. It was enough to make him dry heave onto his shoes.

"The casket is beautiful," Carol commented, and Stevie nodded her agreement, sniffling and dabbing at her eyes. "Is that mahogany?"

It was rather beautiful. On top of the casket lay a bouquet of red and black roses, with sprays of green grass and a white ribbon that read DAUGHTER in gold lettering. Next to the casket was an altar of teddy bears and photographs and heaps upon heaps of hydrangeas, lilies, daffodils, poppies, chrysanthemums, and rose after rose, all in variety of colors bearing GRANDDAUGHTER, NIECE, FRIEND.

And then there were her parents standing at the head of the receiving line. Mr. Willis was sobbing unabashedly, gripping his wife's arm for support. Mrs. Willis was looking impeccably calm and almost dazed as she thanked a well dressed woman who pulled her into a hug and wept on her shoulder. She, herself, oozed of sophistication and grace; her hair, the same color red as her daughter's was piled on the top of her head neatly in a bun and she wore a somber black dress with a string of pearls highlighting her pale neck. Her voice was deep and hoarse, and her eyes were the color of the ocean. Next to Mrs. Willis was a stooped over older woman with a graying red hair that reminded Roddick of his own mother.

"Mr. Willis, I am sorry we couldn't meet on better circumstances, but my name is Carol Brown. I'm a teacher at Teague's school and with me is Stevie Sykes, your daughter's art teacher, Marc Macmillan, Kate Calhoun, and Roddick Ashcroft. Together we have come to offer our deepest sympathies to you and your family and pay our respects to Teague." Carol said grasping Mr. Willis's hand as she spoke. "I am truly very sorry for your loss. Teague was an excellent student and a remarkable individual."

"Thank you," said Mr. Willis in a watery tone, snot running from his nose and his face abnormally red from crying. "She would've been so touched by all the people here, she would've been so happy to see you all..."

"No one should bury a child." Mrs. Willis said softly as Stevie embraced her husband and began to weep. "No one should have to do this." Her eyes connected with Roddick as clapped a hand on her husband's shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring way. "No one." It seemed as though she was pleading with him.

"I will miss her, so much." Roddick said to Mrs. Willis alone. "So, so much."

Mrs. Willis nodded, tears springing to the corners of her eyes. Roddick then felt his own eyes well up as he watched the woman he one day hoped to call his mother in law crumble in her grief.