Today is the funeral. One phone call, and I’ll know where and when.”
“No way,” she said.
“Do you care about me at all?”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust me?”
“I guess.”
“Then trust me on this. Do this one thing. If you decide it’s wrong, that I’ve somehow betrayed you, I’ll go away too if you want. We’ll go together.”
Lindsey stared down at the table for a solid minute. “Find out where it is and what time,” she said. “Then I’ll decide. But don’t tell them I will necessarily be there.”
We arrived at the funeral home ten minutes after the service had begun. A minister was reading from the bible. Unlike my mom’s service, there was a casket at the front, and it was open. The chapel was maybe half full. We walked up the aisle. I watched as Lindsey’s mom and dad turned and saw us as we were sitting down. Her mom closed her eyes and squeezed her hands together in front of her face. Lindsey sat staring at the casket in the front. I don’t think she was expecting it to be like this. Almost as soon as she had sat down, she stood back up and began walking to the front of the chapel.
The minister stopped reading as he noticed her approaching. The chapel was dead silent. I held back. I wondered if I had it all wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought her here. She slowly approached the casket, leaned over. She kissed her brother on the forehead and then took his hand. Some of the people in the chapel began to weep. No one moved. And then her parents got up and walked forward to stand beside her.
Chapter Fifteen
Lindsey and I both began our final year of high school that September. Because I was living at the group home, I got transferred to a new high school, the same one Lindsey went to.
I can’t quite explain what happened next. We had been with each other almost every day for the rest of that summer. She’d helped me at that day camp. She’d liked the kids, and they had liked her.
One day we even came across one of the twelve-year-old boys from the camp while we were downtown. The kid’s name was Duke—at least, that was his nickname. Duke saw us walking down the street and came up to us. “Josh, can you spot me some money? My mom gave me bus fare, but I lost it. I can’t get home if I don’t have bus fare.”
Lindsey leaned over. “Did you really lose your money?”
“Yeah, of course I did,” the kid said. “Would I lie to you?”
Everyone at summer camp knew Duke was a little scam artist. He wasn’t that good at it, really, but then, he was just starting out.
Lindsey held out a five-dollar bill. “You can have it if you tell me the truth.”
Duke blinked and looked at her. “Truth is, I want to go to McDonald’s and get a snack.”
Lindsey almost handed him the money then but pulled it back. “Promise you won’t try to con anyone again?” she said.
“Maybe,” he said. And she gave him the money.
It had been a sad summer for us both. But we moved on.
And that was part of the problem. We moved on. Both of us. By the end of September, Lindsey had fallen back in with some old friends from the previous year. I don’t know if they didn’t like me or if maybe they just didn’t know what to make of me. I had decided to really try hard and do well at school that year, and with a little help from Darren, it was working out. And then Lindsey and I just drifted apart. We both tried to keep what we had, but something had changed that we could not change back. Each time we were together, it seemed we both felt the pain of our losses creep up on us, and we’d fall silent.
I guess it can happen like that. It’s sad but true. I still feel bad that what we had is gone. All I know is that while we were together, it was real. Very real.
Lesley Choyce has written many books for Orca, including the recent Off the Grid . A poet, author and publisher, Lesley is also an avid surfer. He lives in Nova Scotia.
“No way,” she said.
“Do you care about me at all?”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust me?”
“I guess.”
“Then trust me on this. Do this one thing. If you decide it’s wrong, that I’ve somehow betrayed you, I’ll go away too if you want. We’ll go together.”
Lindsey stared down at the table for a solid minute. “Find out where it is and what time,” she said. “Then I’ll decide. But don’t tell them I will necessarily be there.”
We arrived at the funeral home ten minutes after the service had begun. A minister was reading from the bible. Unlike my mom’s service, there was a casket at the front, and it was open. The chapel was maybe half full. We walked up the aisle. I watched as Lindsey’s mom and dad turned and saw us as we were sitting down. Her mom closed her eyes and squeezed her hands together in front of her face. Lindsey sat staring at the casket in the front. I don’t think she was expecting it to be like this. Almost as soon as she had sat down, she stood back up and began walking to the front of the chapel.
The minister stopped reading as he noticed her approaching. The chapel was dead silent. I held back. I wondered if I had it all wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought her here. She slowly approached the casket, leaned over. She kissed her brother on the forehead and then took his hand. Some of the people in the chapel began to weep. No one moved. And then her parents got up and walked forward to stand beside her.
Chapter Fifteen
Lindsey and I both began our final year of high school that September. Because I was living at the group home, I got transferred to a new high school, the same one Lindsey went to.
I can’t quite explain what happened next. We had been with each other almost every day for the rest of that summer. She’d helped me at that day camp. She’d liked the kids, and they had liked her.
One day we even came across one of the twelve-year-old boys from the camp while we were downtown. The kid’s name was Duke—at least, that was his nickname. Duke saw us walking down the street and came up to us. “Josh, can you spot me some money? My mom gave me bus fare, but I lost it. I can’t get home if I don’t have bus fare.”
Lindsey leaned over. “Did you really lose your money?”
“Yeah, of course I did,” the kid said. “Would I lie to you?”
Everyone at summer camp knew Duke was a little scam artist. He wasn’t that good at it, really, but then, he was just starting out.
Lindsey held out a five-dollar bill. “You can have it if you tell me the truth.”
Duke blinked and looked at her. “Truth is, I want to go to McDonald’s and get a snack.”
Lindsey almost handed him the money then but pulled it back. “Promise you won’t try to con anyone again?” she said.
“Maybe,” he said. And she gave him the money.
It had been a sad summer for us both. But we moved on.
And that was part of the problem. We moved on. Both of us. By the end of September, Lindsey had fallen back in with some old friends from the previous year. I don’t know if they didn’t like me or if maybe they just didn’t know what to make of me. I had decided to really try hard and do well at school that year, and with a little help from Darren, it was working out. And then Lindsey and I just drifted apart. We both tried to keep what we had, but something had changed that we could not change back. Each time we were together, it seemed we both felt the pain of our losses creep up on us, and we’d fall silent.
I guess it can happen like that. It’s sad but true. I still feel bad that what we had is gone. All I know is that while we were together, it was real. Very real.
Lesley Choyce has written many books for Orca, including the recent Off the Grid . A poet, author and publisher, Lesley is also an avid surfer. He lives in Nova Scotia.
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