Chapter Thirty-Seven
They bury Walter Hartwell White on a blue, sunny day. The cemetery is a large one, one with a peaceful atmosphere and a sense that the dead are watching the living passively, floating rather than creeping.
The service is surprisingly well-attended; Shaina has managed to drum together a relatively large portion of the General and Organic classes, about twenty people in all. Donya's there too, of course, and so is Gabby. Along with hired hands, Jesse and Hank serve as pallbearers.
When it comes time to speak about Walt, Shaina takes the fore first. She adjusts the collar of her dress and takes a deep breath, before smiling nervously, as if she is back to addressing Walt's Chemistry class again.
"Hi everybody. I'm Shaina. You all probably remember me. I was in Professor White's Organic class, and I was his TA for General Chem. I was actually the one who encouraged him to go for the job originally. When I first met him… Well, I knew him as Jesse's friend. I didn't know that much about him, not yet, and I didn't know that his time would be running so short." She looks down, before looking back up again and scanning the room. "Working with Professor White was pretty exciting. He really knew his stuff. He loved the topic. He was passionate about Chemistry. And I'd like to say that I hope by the end of the whole experience, we considered each other friends as well as co-workers. I'll miss him. I learned a lot through him. Thank you." She walks off and rejoins Donya and Gabby.
Hank awkwardly walks to the front of the group. He keeps his eyes on Marie as he clears his throat and begins.
"Walt was a good man. He worked hard, for a long time. Things got… difficult towards the end. But I always looked up to him for – well, I used to say that he had a brain the size of Texas. Or maybe it was Montana. Big state." There are a few quiet chuckles. "He taught kids. Helped them to learn. And even though Walt and I fell out of touch those last few years, it looks like… he never stopped. He just moved on to different places and kept doing what he was doing. And he fought, too. He fought it 'til the end. Rest well, buddy."
Hank moves back over to Marie, palms sweating.
Jesse is last, and he reluctantly steps up in front of everyone, his hands shaking as he criticizes himself mentally in Mr. White's voice: Do this right, Pinkman! Don't screw up.
He clears his throat and looks for a friendly face, finding one in Brock, who is dressed in a little black tux and is looking at him with his usual trust.
Jesse begins to speak.
"When I first met Walter White, I was eighteen years old, and I thought I knew it all. I was too cool for school. I didn't find anything important in all these chemicals and matter and compounds… None of it meant anything to me." He breathes out and swallows. "When I met Walter White again, I was twenty-five years old… and I thought I knew it all. He tried to tell me how to live my life. What I should do. He tried to look out for me when that was the last thing I thought I wanted. We argued. I don't want to get into it, but he saved my life. Probably more than once. We didn't part on good terms." He pauses, breathes in, actively does not look at Hank and Marie. "When I met Walter White for the last time, I was twenty-eight, and by that point I had learned that I didn't know a damn thing. I did, however, fall in love with him. Mr. White showed me… a lot. Proved a lot to me. It breaks my heart that I will no longer turn around and see him, hear his voice ever again." He swallows to keep from crying. "A lot of people have asked me, they said, 'Jesse, you two are together. Why do you still call him Mr. White?' Well, because he has always been my teacher. My mentor. I will always look up to him, I will always respect him, and I will always love him. I miss you, Mr. White."
Jesse walks off the stage, not looking around at anyone.
That night, Brock can hear Jesse crying as he lies in bed. He leaves his own room behind and slips in, before walking up to the too-big bed where Jesse sleeps and throwing a little arm around him. Jesse shuffles and settles, and Brock whispers to him that it'll be all right. Somehow.