Chapter 26

There was something about funerals that just came off like total bullshit to me. Everybody expected everyone else to dress nice, even though they were in the worst state they could've possibly been in, and then they listened to a guy in a bathrobe preach about things they didn't know about. At least Garrot made sure they enacted some respect for the dead. There wasn't a lot of flowers, since he left his instructions for something else I didn't pay attention to; he left the planning to his parents, not us. Rochelle was my problem.

We were there long before everyone else. Rochelle went with his parents to talk to the priest, so Garrot and I were alone in the church just like we had been those weeks ago when we got here that first night. I sat in the front pew and put my foot up on the shelf of the podium thing where the bible was, and I looked at him. It was open coffin, and it felt like the only difference between then and now was his position. When people say death was noticeable, they were bullshitting. Garrot looked like he fell asleep thinking. I half expected him to turn toward me, open his eyes and crack a smart remark. Rochelle managed to get me in my nice pants and a button down shirt that didn't look like it belonged on a moose hunter (her words, not mine), but I didn't put on a tie. I didn't take off my jacket either. I wasn't about to pose for his family when I never posed for him.

Dragging my elbow up the back of the pew, I propped it up and ran my hand through my hair. "Even though this was kind of selfish of you, I still find myself liking you enough to be here." It wasn't like I expected him to answer, but people were kind of right when they talked about talking to the dead. It did feel like he could hear me, so I talked at him like I normally did. "Yeah, I know, life is shit and you're one of the lucky ones, but come on. You could've done me a favor and done it outside or something. I'm about to be stuffed in a room full of like two hundred crying people, somebody's gonna pass gas and we're all gonna suffocate."

If he were alive, he would've smiled. He might not have responded, but his mouth would've turned up to let me know he was listening. I got up and wandered over, looking down at him. He looked great for a dead guy. I propped my elbows up on his casket and sighed. He didn't smell dead either; he smelled like his cologne. I kept trying to tell myself that he was dead, but I had to physically reach in and make sure his heart wasn't beating to believe it. People just weren't supposed to wear death that well. "You never were normal."

I let out my breath slowly and pulled back my hand, but I didn't leave him. For some strange reason, I felt like my obligation to him wasn't over yet. I pretended I didn't know every word he'd written, but I did. I pretended Rochelle was the one fussing over the plans more than me, but that was complete bullshit. I had to make sure they followed what he wanted, I was the big, intimidating guy. They listened to me. I didn't get the chance to make it up to him while he was alive, I had to do it while he was dead.

"I don't know how I expected to be able to thank you," I muttered to him. "I know you wanted her to have somebody, to...I don't know. Give to the needy or whatever it was you saw in me. But all of this...dude, you needed to be a little selfish. You needed to give me something to say about you sarcastically. The only thing I get to joke about is how much you loved everybody, and how much you kept everybody taken care of, even when it should've been about you." I could've hit his casket, but it was perfect. Sometimes it pissed me off how perfect he got. "You were my best friend and you were the biggest asshole I had ever met in my life. You were real behind all that perfect, and I don't know how to tell people that. You thought about sex, you made asinine comments, you cursed at video games, you were a real person. And people are going to look at you and they're not gonna believe me, because there's no way in hell a guy like you had a friend like me and a normal life. Rochelle, that's who they can believe. Because she's a fucking angel, and you didn't deserve to get stuck with me and normalcy. Shit, you're the kid that they're all going to talk about until we all kick it, you're the kid who would've done great things."

I didn't even hear her crossing the soft carpet in her dress shoes, but Rochelle's hands pressed to my back. I froze. She settled in against me, fingers twisting in my jacket until I turned. Her hair still curled at the ends, but I noticed it draped just over her shoulders now. She looked so fucking gorgeous in her black dress with the elbow-length, sheer sleeves. From her neck to her knees was cloaked in black velvet, and I could practically see the delicious curves of her bra under her clothes. She had on sheer, black stockings beneath that dress, leading down into her shiny black shoes. Garrot's rings sat around her neck on a chain. Her makeup was soft, subtle and beautiful; I didn't have to be a girl to know that mascara was waterproof. Her lips weren't glossy, but they had been pinked slightly. I wanted to kiss them. She clung to my jacket, forcing a sad smile. "He loved you too," she whispered. "He wanted to be like you. He thought you were one of the best people in the world."

It felt like such bullshit, but I just nodded. We both glanced to him, even if he wasn't our third wheel anymore. My arms wound gently around her pretty curves. She looked up at me sadly, shyly, and I couldn't help but try to lighten the mood. "You look so sexy."

"You're in a church, Granite, you need some class," she said, faking irritation.

I shrugged and gave her a squeeze, "Oh yeah? I'd put you up on that railing up there...let you bite me so nobody had to hear...come on, you can't tell me you're not looking forward to doing that again."

She swatted me lightly, but she didn't make me let go of her. Even when people came, she let me stay with her. There was a lump in the lower back of my throat that went away only when I caught whiffs of rose and sea silk shampoo and elegant, powdery perfume that reminded me of debutante dinners. She held my hand through the service until she got up to speak. I didn't, because I told him what I needed to tell him. Her hands shook and she hadn't planned a thing. She shed tears, and she made them feel with the kind of profoundness that people just didn't experience normally. When she came back, I wrapped her up in my arms and I held her. The funeral and the memorial were together- another benefit of having time to plan these things. We rode in the limo together in absolute silence, paired off like birds. There was a hole in the ground at the swell of the hill with a big ass stone in place already. His parents went to pieces. Roxy stayed strong for me. If it was possible, I fell in love with her even more then. Some boys he knew, his father and Roxy's put his casket on the thing to lower him in. She held my hand and let me squeeze her arm supportively. They put flowers all over the top and they put him in the ground, and his mother was crying so hard she was shaking. The grim looks, the desperate sobs and the monotonous drone of the priest reading out of his scriptures finally kicked both of us over the edge. I squeezed Rochelle's arms a little tighter and she clutched my hands. Silent tears rolled down her face from the corners of her eyes, squeezed shut in an effort to keep herself in control. I pressed my cheek to her head and felt the dampness on my own.

"Oh please," she whispered, breaking all of the sounds for me. "Granite...please. Make it stop."

I kissed her head. My arms wound around her tightly, holding her together in the way that neither of us could do for ourselves. She clutched my jacket. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil for you are with me.

"It's okay," I whispered into her ear. "He wanted this, Roxy. He's okay now." I paused, putting it in context for her. "Gatsby turned out okay."

A silent, rueful laugh bubbled over her lips, turning them upward in an agonized smile for a second. Our eyes met and she curled herself into me, watching the rest of the crowd pay their respects, the priest finish his words, his parents drop onto the soft grass that looked way too green for the lack of rain we'd been having. I held her because I didn't know how to do anything else. They looked at us in passing, giving us that look of those poor kids, like we were eight and siblings instead of teenagers in love. She held me so tightly. Her breath was shaky and warm on my skin and I wanted to just absorb her, just bring her into myself and let her know it was going to be okay, because I was there. It wasn't much, but I was there, and I swore to Garrot I wouldn't let her fall. The word before God could be done by anybody, but promising Garrot meant something. We stood there and waited until everyone had gone and Garrot's parents got up slowly, backed by Rochelle's. My dark humor almost hoped they'd push them in with the coffin. They might as well have; they lost their only son. I ran my fingers through Rochelle's hair.

"Take me home," she murmured as she turned her face into my chest. I nodded, gently guiding her away, but she paused. She threw a desperate look back at the headstone, back at the open grave and I almost thought I'd have to stop her from leaping in with him, but she looked at me and she shook her head as she took a deep breath. "No, don't take me home. Take me anywhere but home. Take me somewhere, Granite...please."

I stared at her blankly. "We still have to go get the car."

She nodded, grasping my hand as we stumbled to the mourning limo. As per his instruction, we didn't bother keeping our guests any longer. It dropped us off at home and Rochelle went for my car. Still in her pretty dress, still as gorgeous as could be, she slid inside and sat motionless. I considered just leaving us in the driveway in the privacy of the plastic and metal shell, but I climbed in eventually myself, and I pulled away.

We ended up in the lot where Veronica and I had gone, parked on top of the spot where I had laid and watched the stars. We stared at the sun draping down through the trees like limp gold lace in absolute silence.

"I love you," she finally said to me.

I glanced to her and wrapped my arm around her shoulders, "I know."