Shortness of Breath

Chapter Fifteen

Casey - October twenty fifth

After a funeral, it's customary for some lucky person to invite all the mourners back to her home for conversation and closure. The stated idea, I believe, is to gather in one place to relate fond memories of the deceased and celebrate his or her life. I think, however, that the real point is twofold: the reception exists first to provide the comfort of background noise to those who would otherwise be driven crazy by the quiet, and second, to give all the guests a final opportunity to prove that they're really, really sorry for your loss and therefore their guilt can be absolved and they can finally move on. Equal parts because my house was where Wilson had lived and practically died and because it was closest to the funeral home, I had the unique pleasure of hosting all of my and Wilson's relatives that afternoon. I wasn't sure this group of people had ever been together since my wedding, and I was sure there was good reason for that.

Every time the doorbell rang, I prayed it was the last time, but it never quite was.

"Yeah," I was saying to one of Wilson's aunts. "Me too. He was a really tremendous guy."

Then the bell, not a moment too soon. "Excuse me."

I opened the door on a cousin from North Carolina that hadn't even been at the wake and his apparent wife and kids, whom I wasn't sure I'd ever met.

"Hey, Case," he said as though we were close. "I'm so sorry we missed the wake, our flight out of Fayetteville got canceled. I brought you a coffee cake."

I looked down at it and tried to hide my distaste. "Thank you," I said, taking it and placing it on an adjacent table. "I really appreciate it."

I was probably expected to show the company into my home, but instead I walked past them outside. I'd seen Hallie leave several minutes earlier, but knew she hadn't gone far without saying goodbye. When I met up with her she was leaning against the porch railing, looking out onto the street and smoking a cigarette. By some miracle, she was the only person out there.

"Thank God," I said, just relieved to have located a nonmember of my family.

She looked back at me, then realized I was me and changed her face. "Hey," she said. "How are you doing?"

"This feels like dental work," I sighed, leaning against the railing next to her.

She put her free hand on my upper back and rubbed slowly. "I'm sorry, Case," she said. "It'll all be over soon."

"God, I hope so," was what I said.

She looked back down at her cigarette. "Do you hate it when I smoke?"

"Why would I hate it?"

She shrugged. "Some people can't stand the taste."

"You taste fine," I dismissed.

"Just fine?"

"Great," I corrected. "Okay?"

"Good to know."

I looked off, back toward the house. "Do you hate it when I binge drink?"

"I've never seen you binge drink in your life."

"Check back in with me in about an hour," I said. "I hit my breaking point with all of these people about two days ago. Why are you still here, by the way?"

"I just felt like you needed someone on your side," she said genuinely.

"Thank you," I said.

"For what?"

"For being the best thing in my life right now," I vulnerably opened.

She just smiled dismissively. "I'm not the best thing in your life."