What He Never Said ✔️

chapter four • the funeral

"The best thing to hold onto in life is each other."
- Audrey Hepburn

I step out of the car and roll my eyes when I see Benson leaning against his Mercedes-Benz, his jet black suit contrasting against the car's sleek, silver exterior. He checks the time on his expensive watch, adjusts his cuff-links, and flashes his signature Benson smile.

He always has enjoyed the finer things in life.

My mom walks toward her eldest son and envelops him in a bear hug. Again, I roll my eyes. In our household, Benson has always been the favorite. The Golden Boy. He can do no wrong, apparently.

"How you holding up, Mom?" Benson asks.

"I'm... okay," she replies. It almost sounds convincing. "Come on, let's go inside."

The four of us walk through a dark hallway that leads to the small chapel. Red roses and purple carnations are placed at the altar. Elegant white candles are lit throughout the room, creating a warm, almost welcoming vibe. Raelyn's remains are located in a turquoise urn that my mom picked out.

"The only options were black, gold, and brown," she explained to us, justifying her decision. "Turquoise is so Rae, you know?"

My dad and I both thought it was peculiar that she was going to put a dead girl's ashes in such a brightly colored urn, but now that I'm seeing it in person, I think it was a smart choice. My mom was right; it fits Rae's vibrant personality perfectly.

Gemma and her roommate/best friend, Levi, are already here. Mom takes a seat beside my sister and squeezes her tightly. She's always been a hugger. Even when I was a moody sixteen year-old, she never let a day go by without giving me a hug.

"Hey, little sis," Benson says to Gemma. He inserts himself between her and Levi before ruffling her brown hair. "How you holding up?"

"I've seen better days," she replies.

"Haven't we all?" I grumble. I wish everyone would stop with the small talk. Even on an ordinary day, no one ever answers candidly when asked, "How are you?"

I know I don't, anyway.

Behind us, the door opens. I turn around to see a plump woman with blonde curls and thick-rimmed glasses. Raelyn's daughter, Evangeline, is at her side.

"What's gonna happen to her?" Levi asks in a voice that's too loud for church. I can't help but chuckle.

The woman approaches us, dragging an obviously miserable Evangeline by the hand. She claims the pew behind us and says, "Hello, everyone."

My dad faces her and offers a faint smile. "Hi there."

"My name is Waverly Swift. I work for DCF. I've been assigned to keep an eye on Evangeline during this... heart-wrenching time," the woman informs us.

"Hi, sweetheart. How are you doing?" my mom questions Evangeline. Great. More small talk.

"I'm fine, I guess," the six year-old says with a shrug. I notice that she has her mother's emerald eyes.

The door opens once again, revealing a middle-aged pastor. As he moseys down the aisle, he mutters what sounds like an apology for being late. If he is late, no one noticed. And if they did notice, I don't think they cared. It's not like we have anywhere more important to be.

He steps up to the altar and grazes the turquoise urn with his fingertips. He clears his throat and asks, "Shall we begin?"

"Yes." My dad rises to his feet, walks to the podium, and faces the small audience. In a clear, confident voice, he says, "Hi, everybody. Thank you all for coming today. As most of you know, my name is Geoffrey Beaufort. My wife, Calista, and I lived next door to Raelyn when she was just a girl. She was my daughter's best friend. She... she was an incredible person. The way her mind worked... well, there was nothing like it." A nostalgic smile tugs at his lips. "One year for Christmas, we were going to buy an artificial tree, but Raelyn was adamant that we needed a real one. Of course, I like to procrastinate and wait until the last minute, so by the time I went to purchase said tree, all they had left were shrubs. My children were devastated, but Raelyn thought it was wonderful. She decorated that little shrub all by herself. After that, it became a tradition in our family that we forgo a full-sized Christmas tree and get a Christmas shrub instead."