Look After Me

Chapter 1: The Funeral

Black was my least favorite color of all. It was a heavy, hot color, and to be wearing it, made the morning even more unbearable. Taking every few minutes to myself in the powder room to weep uncontrollably and attempt to look put together upon re-entry, was a chore, amongst all this burdensome black. 

The chapel foyer was crowded with family I hadn't seen in many years and even people I didn't know. Everyone spoke in hushed voices and shot sympathetic glances towards me every few seconds. I stayed put, leaning on the wall, looking down at my Mary Janes to avoid conversation, holding back rivers.

"He would have laughed at all this." It was Garret.

I looked up, giving the most genuine smile I could muster. After all, I was more than glad he was here.

"He would have laughed at you." I replied, righting myself and taking a step forward "Look at you, all in a tux." I adjusted his tie humorously before looking back down, feeling uncomfortable. 

"I've never spoken at a funeral before." he sounded nervous and his face had fallen into a bruised expression, which made it easier to put away my selfish thoughts. I had to remember, he had lost his best friend that night, too. "I thought about writing down a speech. That seemed a little too formal."

I smiled at him, "I'm sure whatever you have to say will be fine." 

My eyes began to well with tears again as my mother stiffly motioned for me to accompany her to the nave. I looked back and gave him a quick nod and a smile before following. 

Everyone settled into their seats in an awkward rustle of starched clothes and sniffles. I kept my eyes forward, staring past the bulky, oak casket, to the pulpit. Trying to keep my mind from understanding what was going on around me.

As an aunt I had never met sang on off-key  "Amazing Grace", my thoughts wandered. Instead of thinking about Noah, I was feeling incommodious. Being in church, under these circumstances was more embarrassing than tragic. I could imagine God warming up his lightning bolts right now, with Special Order for Hannah Ridgel written on them in swirling gold lettering. I frowned at that thought and looked around just in time to see everyone shift uncomfortably as the song ended on an unnervingly flat note.

A man, I pinned as the church pastor, stood up and walked to the front. He spoke in a strong, inspiring voice about after-life and things I didn't know if I believed in, as all thoughts of that night came back, stinging the corners of my raw eyes and churning a million negative feelings in my stomach. Guilt, mostly. I wondered if Garret felt guilty, too.  I brushed a stray tear away with the butt of my palm, angrily realizing all these people who had never met my brother at all were here crying over his death.

"Now, Noah would hate all the negative energy here," I looked at the man for the first time, narrowing my eyes in hatred, "so we're going to send him off with good memories.” He smiled a sorrowful smile. I rolled my eyes, “Garret Midkiff, would you please come share with us."

Garret stood up, walking too fast down the aisle, standing awkwardly, not looking at the closed casket beside him. Again, my mind wondered as he told stories of us three and our childhood.

Noah and I were born in Houston, Texas on the hottest day of summer in 1990. Summers in The Lone Star State were as hot as the dessert, but down in Galveston, they were even hotter. Although the temperature could be only 80, it could feel a good 110 degrees just from humidity. Noah and I had lived there our whole lives, aside from the handful of weeks my mom would send us to Dallas during the threat of hurricanes.

My parents were gone during the day, running a gaudy office building in Houston, so they put us in daycare. But not just any daycare. My mom had to make sure it was the best. We met Garret at an upper class home academy when we were 3 and Noah instantly took to him, and he’s been a member of the family ever sense. We spent summer days on the beach and nights in a tent in the back yard until school would start, when Garret would stay with us for weeks at a time when his father left for Atlanta for business every first of the month. When we hit middle school, I had found better things to do with my time, like shopping and friends that weren’t covered in dirt. But Noah and Garret always had each other. Garret was level headed and easy going, Noah was a little more erratic and loud. But they did everything together. Little league, soccer, baseball, then football in High School. They even went to the same college on a business and management scholarship.