The closer she got to the church, the slower Cuddy had to drive; because the line of parked cars taking up three blocks narrowed the road. The parking lot was totally full, as were all neighboring parking lots. Though the snow was two feet deep, there was a particularly grassy pathway leading into the church.
"Screw it," Cuddy announced, and parked in the middle of the parking lot. "I can afford the fine. I'm not wasting the day away."
They got out of the vehicle and walked into the church. Every single pew was occupied. Some could still fit many people, but before Cuddy had even reached the front pew, she could hear more people entering the building. The front pew had three people; and as Cuddy joined them, she recognized all three faces with a single look.
Stacy and Mark looked at her in open sympathy. Rebecca sat looking straight ahead. House probably would have said she looked like a blonde trying to do math; but in Cuddy's eyes, she was simply trying not to care. Not to break.
Cameron looked at Rebecca's stoic face, thinking of something House had said to her: "The best thing that happened to me is that I don't care about my daughter."
Hopefully House had lied. She didn't want Rebecca's grief to be all for show. She didn't want it to be the right thing to do.
Sitting next to Adams, Chase tried to read their situation as he waited for the concession to start. She wasn't touching him; and instead of looking appropriately sad, Chase felt like maybe she was trying to read their situation, too.
The minister walked onto the stage, dressed in robes and self-righteousness, and carrying a book. He placed it on the podium and Chase tried not to compare him to the similarities between the priest and his dad. At least the American accent distinguished him. "We are gathered here to say farewell to Dr. Gregory House, and to commit him into the hands of God."
"Man's been committed before," Foreman's mutter floated through the front row. Realizing people had heard him, he looked nervously at his neighbors and saw Mark hiding a smile.
Cuddy nodded at the minister as she took his place at the podium. Brushing her hair aside with an obsessive motion, her eyes took in all the people. "Boy," she began, and apologetically raised her voice. "Uh, I wasn't expecting such a big turnout. I guess...I didn't think he was loved by this many people." Her tone turned nervous as she amended her words, "Not that I didn't think he was loved. I-I know he was. But, uh... I'm sorry, how many of you got an invitation in the mail?"
Not even half the amount of guests raised a hand. Cuddy surveyed the crowd. "Huh. That's weird. Pretty sure most of you wouldn't even call him a friend. Actually, his friends wouldn't call him a friend..." Her eyes found Stacy, who was staring at her in disapproval. Cuddy quickly steered back on track. "Uh, my name's Lisa. I'm the widow. And—well, I'd like to correct what I said. House was a wonderful man. And a wonderful doctor," she paused as she made the connection. "Come to think of it, he probably cured most of you. In the world of medicine, he's a hero. A funeral this size is what he deserves. Of course he wouldn't care for any of it..."
She shifted her weight, looking around the room as her eyes narrowed.
"I think she's gonna crack," Chase muttered.
Gripping the podium with both hands, Cuddy dropped her head between her arms, then stood up straight with a pitiful laugh. "You know, he lost patients like any other doctor. And he liked having people think he didn't give a damn. Well, he did. And the people who couldn't tell, are probably the same people who think a man of medicine, with an understanding of science, would be at all grateful that a religious ceremony is thrown in his honor, against his wishes!"
Everyone was uncomfortable with the volume of her voice, but only the people in the front row could recognize her tone.
"House respected every patient's life. And now people are disrespecting his death, on the one day we get." She extended her hands, staring at the people. "How does this make sense? And why is it acceptable? No, why is it the norm? The man didn't even want a closed casket, for Christ's sake!" She turned and began advancing on the coffin. "Who the hell directed this funeral?"
Even Foreman was taken off-guard by her outburst. Cuddy approached the coffin, grabbed the lid, and heaved it open. And her entire body froze. Seeing her go from livid widow to a statue in a matter of seconds, the guests looked on in concern. Finally Cuddy turned around, looking at Stacy with a tortured expression on her face.
Stacy got up and ran for the stage as Cuddy took several unsteady steps away from the casket. Feeling like she was moving in slow motion, she looked through a haze of anguish at the people in the front row. Then, before she was even consciously aware of what she was doing, she turned and walked up to the minister; squaring off on him and looking dangerously into his eyes.
"Where is my husband?"