Everywhere is quiet. Everything is just void, voids filled with tepid air. She smokes a cigarette (although it makes her choke) because it gives her a closeness that she will never again find with flesh. There are other types of closeness, like the bond between her family or her relationship with Adam, even her friendship with Grace but there will never be another Judith. There will never again be Joanith.
Joan doesn't think she'll ever smoke another cigarette.
Adam looks across the lab room at her with a quiet understanding that feels like he's holding her hand. Grace, Luke, Friedman: they're blocks of sympathy, maybe a little empathy and their gazes are fleeting. Everybody else is hushed, their unbecoming whispering will begin once she's left the room, but for the moment they try to be respectful.
Joan's jaw is tight and her eyes keep moving to the empty place where a stool has been removed. There's no one left to occupy it. There's flesh and bone, ashes and fingernails, but there is no person. If there was then Fran Montgomery would not have given Joan that person's bracelet and she would not be wearing it right now. Judith would be wearing it. But she's not, and Joan can't grasp why.
She hasn't asked Him. She scared that if she asked Him and He told her then He might tell her that it was her fault. Judith said that Joan saved her life that summer but Joan is scared that she took it this weekend. She is scared that she didn't focus enough on catching, or that she was too tense. She hopes that she's learnt something from Judith because she can't bear to think that her death was a complete waste.
People slowly stop looking at her as she takes her seat, glances only flickering back when Ms. Lishack gently informs her that under the circumstances she's excused from her project. Joan wants to make a smart remark back, point out that she couldn't very well do it on her own, but she will. She has to work through losing Judith on her own (no matter how many other people are doing the same) because everybody has three boxes and if they stopped juggling to help someone else then they would have too many boxes and they might drop them all.
So, she just nods silently and Adam takes her hand under the table, where people can't see. Joan considers crawling under the table, forever, but as she does she sees Judith's shuddering breaths, pulled in tight to stop her crying and Joan tries to be strong too.
She tries to keep her boxes in the air. And understand why loving doesn't keep people here.