Waking up the next morning was tough for all of us after our interrupted night of sleep, and we didn't talk much while we got ready to go to the funeral. I knew that the wake had been tough because that was the same funeral home where we'd had Mom and Dad's, but at least there was no visual reminder of them there. The funeral, on the other hand, was a whole other story. We had to go back to the cemetery. The same cemetery I couldn't bring myself to visit to see any of the people I loved… my mom, my dad, my friends… I didn't know how any of us were going to get through this day.

When we got there, Steve and his mom were already there along with his uncle, his aunt, and his two cousins. That was the extent of the Randle family. Two Bit showed up right behind us, and the four of us walked over to the plot together. Steve had his arm around his mom, and he looked very much like he didn't want anyone to talk to him. He glanced up when we approached, and I noticed that the muscle in his jaw twitched, but that was the only reaction I got. My brothers obviously got the same impression I did because we all instinctively hung back as everyone walked in closer to hear the priest.

The service was mercifully short, and when it ended, the only sound in the cemetery was Mrs. Randle's soft crying. She'd made it through the wake pretty much in one piece, but there's something about the reality of a cemetery that'll hit you if nothing else has. From the back of the small crowd, I watched Steve pull her into a hug, and she shook against him for a minute until she forced herself to calm down. Then she stepped back, touched his face, and then turned and walked past us to the car. Her brother, sister-in-law, and two nephews were all there waiting for her. Steve, on the other hand, didn't move. We were now there alone with him, and Darry motioned for me to say something, so I cleared my throat, and Steve looked at me, completely non-committal.

"Aren't you – aren't you going with her," I asked in sudden confusion as I realized that the car behind us was unexpectedly pulling away.

Steve shook his head. "Nah. I told them to go ahead without me and that I'd meet up with them back at the house. They needed to get back because one of our neighbors had offered to set up the food, but Mom didn't want to leave her alone there for too long."

I nodded. I didn't know what to say, suddenly, in the face of his composure, so we all lapsed back into silence. It didn't take long for any of us to realize, though, that Steve didn't want us there anymore either. He wanted to be alone… and it wasn't like there wasn't a place where the rest of us could go to wait. There were three places, in fact.

"We'll just…" I trailed off as Steve looked up at me, trying to force a polite smile but not succeeding. I motioned with my head. "We'll just be over there when you're ready. We can give you a ride if you want to leave when we do."

"Thanks," he said. "Maybe."

Nodding, we all moved off. I could sense Darry and Pony's misery as we headed in a direction that we knew so well but dreaded just as much. Two-Bit came along silently. He knew where we were going, and he belonged with us there too. Like we'd always known… everyone loved our parents. As we got closer to their headstones, though, I started to shiver. It wasn't a cold day, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. This was the last place on earth I wanted to be.

And then we were there. It took me a minute to register what I was reading, and then it hit me all over again the same way it did whenever I made the stupid decision to come back to this awful place. "Darryl and Diane Curtis." There were dates and other information there, but all I ever saw were their names. After that, my eyes played the same trick they always did no matter how prepared I thought I was to handle this. A lump the size of a golf ball was suddenly lodged in my throat, and my eyes started to burn with the tears I inexplicably felt I shouldn't be shedding. After all, if Steve could hold it together at his father's actual funeral, then why couldn't I do the same when my parents had died months ago? I couldn't talk, so I continued staring at the stones, pretending I didn't hear Pony's shuddering breath on one side of me and even Darry's sniffles on the other. I knew that it if I started crying, the two of them would lose any semblance of control they were currently trying to hold onto, so I kept my eyes straight ahead until Pony choked out, "I want to go see Johnny and Dally now."

I swallowed hard. This was all getting to be too much, and I was lucky when Darry and Two-Bit moved off with him. I figured I should go back and check on Steve anyway.

He wasn't in front of the grave. In fact, when I first got back, I thought he might have gone. But then I heard him. I turned in the direction of the sound, and I finally caught sight of him behind the tree that was a few hundred yards off. He was looking around it to the grave, so I knew he could see me, but then again, I wasn't so sure. He'd lost any of the composure he'd had that morning, and seeing his tears suddenly released my own. I stumbled over to him, not daring to speak, and when he suddenly realized I was standing in front of him, he took in the look in my own eyes and wailed, "I don't know how to do this," and then he sagged against me. I caught him, and we slid down so we were leaning against the tree, my arms around him, and we didn't talk. I just held onto him while he cried out all of the grief he still wasn't sure he was supposed to be feeling, and under the cover of his own sobs, I gave into mine as well.

When we finally calmed down, I wiped my eyes and realized that Darry, Pony, and Two-Bit were standing by the gates waiting for us. Their eyes were also red, and we all quickly got into the car before anyone walking by could get a good look at us. When it happens to us like this, it's not like we can help it… but it's also not like we want anyone else to see it either. I couldn't wait to be home. All I wanted to do was go to sleep and forget this day. It was the hardest one I'd had in a long time.