Coming Home

Eleven

Dressed all in black, I sit at the front of the church with members of my extended family. If it weren't for the fact that my grandmother is in that wooden box up by the altar, there's no way I'd find myself stuck in this position. Surrounded by people who so coldly turned their backs on me is definitely not somewhere I'd willingly choose to be for any other reason; my love for Gran is stronger than my hate for the rest of these people.

The elderly priest drones on with his typical funeral service speech, occasionally tossing in comments about my grandmother to make it seem more personal. Perhaps, because this is such a small town, he might actually have had some kind of relationship with her. However, the information he's sharing seems far too obvious for someone who truly knew her; this leads me to believe he's just giving generic statements to fill in the gaps. Next, some distant relative delivers a eulogy, but I have a difficult time making a connection between the grandmother I knew and the woman she's talking about. I have a feeling that this woman didn't even know Gran that well, but it's possible that I simply don't recognize her because of the years I spent in New York. I barely manage to contain my tears as the service goes on, using all the strength I can find within myself to appear stronger than I actually am. I wouldn't want to repeat what happened yesterday at the funeral home, especially not in front of so many people.

I'm squished into a tightly packed pew between Uncle Dave and my Great Aunt Irene, my grandmother's only sister; apparently, Gran was somewhat famous around here because the church is practically overflowing. While Aunt Irene sobs into my shoulder, soaking my expensive blouse with her tears and squeezing my hand in an iron grip, Uncle Dave's body is rigid next to mine. It's as if just sitting next to me repulses him. That's a wound that hurts just as much today as it did five years ago. Although I try to focus on the words being said about Gran, my mind is quickly preoccupied with thoughts of that day when Uncle Dave and I stopped being friends. Memorie of the awful things he said to me, about me. Of the way that my every hope was crushed in mere seconds. Thoughts of the feelings of helplessness and fear that flooded me when I realized that the only person I counted on to be on my side... wasn't.

When I realized that I was all alone.

Unable to contain myself any longer, the tears pour relentlessly down my face. My heart aches without mercy, squeezing painfully in my chest. I literally begin to fall apart, in part because of the loss of my grandma, partially for Uncle Dave, and partly for the girl I was five years ago. My intentions to withhold displaying my feelings dissolve with the salty drops as I'm overwhelmed by the unending reminder of all I've lost. As I reach up to wipe the dampness from my cheeks, a white handkerchief is suddenly thrust into my hand.

Maybe he doesn't completely hate me.

Before I can thank him, Uncle Dave whispers harshly, "You're getting snot on my jacket."

Or... maybe he does.

The words die in my throat, and I turn my attention forward again, pretending to focus on the remaining service. With the handkerchief gripped tightly in my hand, I will myself to forget about the man beside me and all the pain he's caused me. Reconciliation is obviously not in the cards for us at this time, even while we share mutual grief over Gran's death.

After I manage to wipe some of my tears away, I take a deep breath and bite into my bottom lip to regain some composure. Unexpectedly, I feel a hand rubbing my back comfortingly. Glancing over my shoulder, I am surprised to find that the owner of the appendage is none other than Levi Hutchins. His eyes gaze into mine momentarily, and I notice the immense sadness held within them, along with a hint of curiosity, as well. I give Levi a slight nod and mouth, "Thank you," before turning back to face the front of the church. As I turn, I catch the corners of Levi's lips twitching upward slightly in my peripheral vision. He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze before pulling his arm back. I hate to admit it, but I suddenly feel cold without his touch.

I'm so confused right now. Maybe I'm going crazy or something.

As the church pews empty and family and friends make their way to the cemetery for Gran's burial, it seems that Uncle Dave can't get away from me fast enough. I tell myself that it doesn't bother me, forcing myself to actually believe it. At least for now. Carefully, I help Aunt Irene from the pew and hand her over to her brother, who is much more capable of caring for her right now than I am. I stand next to the bench as the funeral attendees continue to exit the church, hoping to stay at the back of the group with minimal attention drawn to myself. I've already had more than my fill of interactions with these people.

Just as I think I'll be the last one out, someone brushes against my arm. With my eyes stuck to the floor, I take a deep breath in preparation for a possible conversation with whoever it is, all hope of getting out of here unnoticed vanishing completely. I don't bother to look up at the unknown person, not entirely sure if I even want to know who is stuck with me at the moment.

"I'm really sorry about your grandma, Lexi," the person says with sincere sympathy. His voice is hushed and somewhat husky, as if he's been choking back tears of his own, but I'd recognize it anywhere. I don't even have to turn around to know who it is.

Levi Hutchins.

"Thanks, Levi," I whisper, hoping it will end the conversation, that he'll understand that I don't want to talk right now. Or ever, really. I just want to get through the will reading tomorrow, say one last goodbye, and get the hell out of here.

To my misfortune, Levi brushes his hand against mine before tenderly grasping it and saying, "I'm here for you if you need anything, Lexi." And by the tone of his voice, I know he means it.

I practically melt into a puddle right there in the church at the small sign of acceptance and understanding. This ordinary and seemingly insignificant act somehow manages to fill a void inside of me. My mind whirls as confusion sets in; how could such a simple gesture from a man I haven't seen in five years mean so much to me? A voice inside my head tells me to accept the affection, my own fingers softly curling around Levi's.

Finally, I redirect my gaze to take in the sight of him, my eyes roaming over his face. If he's caught off guard by my return of the embrace, he doesn't show it. Levi tightens his grip on my hand, his expression unchanging as he stands silently beside me. Neither of us says a word, but I don't believe it's necessary at the moment; everything that needs to be said right now is exchanged and understood as we stand quietly next to each other in the empty church.

This is absolutely not how I expected today to turn out.