A/N: I'm posting early again because I'm going on vacation and don't know if I'll have access to the internet. I know most hotels have wi-fi, but I'm staying at a friend's condo. Louise's chapter will be up sometime this weekend.

Chapter 14: Day 9, Morning continued

I'm still holding Linka's hand as we walk towards the church. We're walking in silence, and I'm listening to the sound of the funeral bells. It's as if they're leading us to the church, telling everyone what's going on. The silence is broken when Linka mentions wondering where Dmitri is and how she was encouraged by the fact that he seemed fine after the ceremony. I quickly change the subject to my eagerness to see the church.

Her grandmother hasn't said a word this whole time. I feel bad for her…she's lost a grandchild, her son is being a jerk, and she is having to deal with the knowledge that she could have lost another grandchild to Bliss…and the turmoil that this whole situation is causing her family. I make a mental note to let her know somehow that she's not alone…I'll also be here for her…since Linka can't, even though I know she wants to…she just can't.

I wonder if Linka can read my mind because at that very moment, she squeezes my hand. I squeeze hers in return as I look over at her and smile. I wish she could read my mind…or that I can read hers…things would be so much easier.

I know this isn't easy for her…I knew it wouldn't be…but now's not the time for "I told you so." Besides, the look on her face says it all. She thinks this is a mistake. She's chewing on her bottom lip like she always does when she's thinking…thinking too much undoubtedly. I can't stop thinking about what she said earlier…about burdening me with her troubles. Have I done anything in these past few days to make her think that I felt that way? I hope not, because I definitely don't. If anything, this has been helping me. At first it was a painful reminder of my cousin…but now, it's like therapy. This has helped me to be more understanding of what James was going through…and seeing Linka deal with her pain and her anger with Boris…it's exactly how I felt, and I always felt so guilty for being mad at James for dying. But now I see that it's normal. Linka has helped me to see that it's normal. And being at the funeral doesn't necessarily mean that she'll forgive Boris…it didn't help me forgive James.

I let go of her hand, put my arm around her waist, and pull her against my side as I whisper,

"You don't have to do this."

"I do but... you do not. It was selfish of me to ask you, I know it is bringing back bad memories."

I knew it. What can I say to make her realize that she doesn't need to worry about me? This isn't bothering me. The only thing that's bothering me is that she thinks I don't want to be here. Doesn't she know by now that I'm doing this for her? I try to tell her that with my eyes. Unless…maybe she doesn't want me here. Maybe I've been too persistent. Maybe she's worried what everyone is thinking about her…or more specifically, about me being here with her. I have to know…and it'll give her a chance to send me away if my being here really does make her uncomfortable.

"But you still want me with you right?" I ask, not knowing what I'll do or say if she says no.

"Always..."

My heart is so full of hope; it feels like it might burst. I try to restrain myself from picking her up and swinging her around. It's like she's answered every question I've ever had about 'us' with one simple word.

"I mean, why would I not want you with me? We are good friends Da?"

Oh. Good friends.

"Da," I say as I give her a squeeze. "Don't worry about me Babe, I'm fine and I'm not going anywhere."

So maybe my hopes are a little dashed…but at least I know that she wants me here…and I meant what I said, I'm not going anywhere.

Linka's grandmother laughs quietly. I look over at her with a wink and a smile. She nods at me and returns my smile. I hope it's a sign that she approves. I check out the exterior of the church. It's pretty amazing. I told Linka that many of the churches in the older US cities had a lot of European influence, but I'd never seen a church like this. There's a big dome that kinda resembles…an onion. Yeah, leave it to me to use food to describe something! But that's what it looks like. It's like all the pictures that I've seen of that famous cathedral in Moscow…you know the one…it's the building that you think of when you think of the Soviet Union. Of course this church isn't as elaborate as Saint Basil's Cathedral…way less domes and not as colorful. There is only one dome and it is gold. I wonder if the color means anything.

"Hey Babe, does the number of domes and color of the dome mean anything?"

"Da. Very observant of you Yankee!"

"I told you, I couldn't wait to see the difference…so what's it mean?"

"For example, on this church, one dome symbolizes Jesus...as does the gold color. Some churches, you will see three domes which symbolize the Holy Trinity…green domes also signify the Holy Trinity. Blue domes mean the Spirit of God and you will see black domes in monasteries."

"Cool. Thanks."

"You are welcome…just wait until you see the inside!"

We enter the church and she whispers,

"We must buy a candle and place it in the stands in memory of Boris."

I purchase my candle, not wanting to offend the grieving family, or do anything that would go against their practices. I look around the inside of the church and instantly notice that there are no pews! There are murals of religious icons all over the place, saints and such. Lots of gold accents. It sort of gives all the paintings and sculptures dimension. There's an icon screen that reaches all the way up into the dome. Even the ceiling inside the dome has an image of Jesus painted on it. There are no lights. All of the light coming from inside the church is generated by candlelight.

Boris' body is laid out, his casket in the middle of the church. People have already arrived, but they stand aside to make room for Linka and her grandmother. I see the way they look at her. I stand behind her, partly because I don't think it's my place to be up front, but mostly because I'm blocking her from their view.

Dmitri is there too, standing next to the casket and crying for his only child. Linka takes a step towards him, but I stop her and shake my head. She gives me a questioning look, unsure of whether or not to argue with me or listen to me. Thankfully her grandmother sees what's going on and says to her,

"Listen to him, your uncle is not yet ready to forgive."

That's putting it mildly!

Linka nods, giving in, but I can see the pain and sadness in her eyes. I place my hand on the small of her back, once again trying to transfer strength to her just with a simple gesture. I don't know if it works, but it's gotta provide some sort of comfort. And remembering what I said to myself earlier, I place my hand on Grandma's shoulder and give it a squeeze, letting her know that I'm here for her as well as we wait for the ceremony to begin.

The service begins. I'm pretty much lost. There's music and readings. I wish I knew what they said, but it's probably pretty much the same as what I'm used to seeing. The Bible is the Bible right? The language may change, but it's still the same stories. Unfortunately, I just don't know which ones they're telling! Even though I can't understand, I can still feel the power of the readings though…weird. I always get this feeling when I go to church. It's a good feeling, but a weird feeling. No matter what's going on, I always feel better. Kinda makes me wonder why I don't go more often. Would I get the feeling every time? Or would it go away? Maybe it's God telling me "Hey, I got my eye on you buddy!" Wow…now that's a scary thought! People do a lot of bad things when they think no one is looking. I look over at Linka and smile. I do a lot of bad things involving Linka when I think no one's looking! I squeeze my eyes shut and grimace. CHURCH, WHEELER! CHURCH! Focus. I take a deep breath and let it out. Hopefully people are more focused on Boris and the service than they are me. I know that's not true though. I know many of these people are curious as to what exactly I'm doing here. What I am to Linka…good question. And I'm sure Dmitri has told them all sorts of stories about the both of us. Many of these people probably think I don't belong here. They probably think Linka doesn't belong here either. I look at her again, and if they see what I see, they'll know that's not true. She's crying, and she's not even attempting to stop her tears or hide her emotions.

The priest is waving the incense over Boris' body as the crowd sings. That's something that's familiar to me. When I was younger, I was an alter boy for a few years. They paid us to do the funerals. I'd always accept those offers. To this day, the smell of incense makes me feel like I'm 10 again. Sometimes, I wish I was. The innocence of it all. Not having to deal with death unless it was to make a few bucks as an alter boy. It was no one I knew, so it didn't affect me. Of course, then there was my dad…I wouldn't want to go back to that. And then there's Linka. I wouldn't want to give what we have up…not that we have anything…just…I wouldn't want to give up knowing her…being friends.

Now the priest is doing something with holy water, and saying what I can only guess is another prayer. And now there are more readings. I wonder how much more Linka is going to be able to take. This is really starting to drain me; I can only imagine how she feels.

My question is answered when I feel her reach back and take my hand, pulling it around her as she leans back into me for support. Something's different…Oh. Now I know why she looked so good in her funeral dress. She's got layers of clothes on underneath it. That's why it fit her so well. That's why she looked…healthier. Oh Babe. I wish there was more I can do. I hold her against me, hoping that it's enough to help her, and also wishing that this would all be over soon.

"Boris was a good and kind young man," I hear the priest say, shocking me back to attention when I recognize the words. Why all of a sudden the switch to English? "He loved God and he loved his family and those of us who are left behind will miss him dearly."

The priest continues telling stories about Boris' childhood. Sounds like a great kid…too bad he turned into such a jerk. Where are those stories? Where are the stories about how he nearly got his cousin killed to satisfy his own drug habit? Is this fantastic guy the same one who sacrificed his cousin for some pills? Made her an addict by sneaking the drugs into her food? Put her through the pain she's going through now, not just the withdrawal, but the guilt that she's carrying? Where are those stories? Since we're doing this service in English now, perhaps they'd like me to tell these stories? Nah, I won't. For Linka's sake, I'll keep quiet.

But don't think for a second that I don't know why all of a sudden we're speaking my language. This is Dmitri's way of making a point; trying to make me feel guilty for not saving his son. I don't know what he thinks I could have done. He wasn't there. How about that? Where was he when his son was Blissed out? Anyone care to ask him that question? I'd love to. And what kind of man uses his son's funeral to make a point…to get back at me? I look at him, willing him to look at me. I want him to see my face, to read the look in my eyes, but instead, he's staring down Linka. I glance down at her to see her feelings are clearly written on her face. She's suspicious of the sudden switch to English too.

The priest is praying again. Is this over yet? I want to bend down and ask Linka. I don't even care if it seems heartless. I'm not feeling very compassionate at the moment. But before I get a chance to ask her, she's leaving me to go stand at the side of the casket.

The next thing I know, she's leaning down and placing a kiss on his cheek. So I move forward with her not wanting to be too far away, partly incase she faints, but mostly because I like having her close. I like that she wants me to put my arm around her; that she makes the first move and leans into me. I reach out, letting her know that I've followed her, that I'm still close if she needs me. Once she straightens up, I move my hand up from it's resting place on the small of her back, to gently squeeze her shoulder and rub my thumb soothingly between her shoulder blades. I can feel the tension and make a mental note to do something about it later. I can feel everyone's eyes on her...And on me, observing my actions. Is it inappropriate? I don't think so. It's not like I'm doing anything improper.

She smiles at me. I guess I'm doing ok. I slide my hand down her back and take her hand, lacing my fingers with hers. She steps away, which puts me in front of the casket. They're still looking at me. There's no way in hell I'm kissing him. Yeah, we do this back home. Kissing a deceased loved one to say goodbye isn't uncommon...but he's no 'loved one' of mine...and he's a dude. I don't kiss guys. Even if this is some sort of Ruskie tradition, it's not my culture. They don't honestly expect me to kiss him too…do they? Plus, these people already hate me for no reason. It's not like I need to try to make a good impression on them. But for Linka's sake, I guess I should act like I care. I make the sign of the cross and bow my head, pretending to say a prayer for Boris. Instead, I'm praying for myself.

"God, please forgive me for hating this kid...even at his funeral, I can't forgive him for what he's done. I think he got what he deserved...I know You'd want me to forgive him, but I can't. So I need You to forgive me for having so much hate for him. And I also need You to help Linka get through this. Losing her cousin, the situation with her uncle, but more importantly, get her through this withdrawal. She needs strength, and I'm trying to give her all of mine, but it's not enough. She needs Your strength too...oh, and I'm sorry I don't go to church more...Amen."

I finish my prayer and stand aside, making room for Grandma to say goodbye to her grandson. I give her a sad smile before turning to Linka who squeezes my hand. She's looking pale and weak, so I release her hand and put my arm around her, pulling her against my side as she leans into me for support. She's crying, letting the tears fall and making no attempt to stop them. I take my other hand and gently brush my fingers over her cheek, but all I manage to do is smear the tear, not dry it. Since this is my wedding and funeral suit, I know for a fact that I have a handkerchief in my pocket. I pull it out and use it instead, and when I'm done drying her tears, I hand her the handkerchief to hold. It'll give her something to do with her hands.

Everyone has made their way up to Boris to give their final goodbye. I guess things must be wrapping up here. The casket has been closed. Good. It's getting stuffy in here, I'm sweating my ass off, and I can't wait to get out to the cool, fresh air.

To Be Continued…

Don't forget, in order to get the full affect of the story, you HAVE TO read Linka's side of the story in Chapter 14 of LouiseX's Codependence.