20
LEXI
I’ve never planned anyone’s funeral.
Hope didn’t have a will.
I’d like to think that the three of us would know what her final wishes would be, but I feel like maybe I didn’t know Hope as well as I thought.
I’m not sure I know anything anymore.
Losing Hope hurts.
But beneath the pain is a pool of anger so deep I’m terrified of drowning in it.
I’m mad at Hope, so fucking mad.
How could she be so goddamn selfish?
I never thought she’d do something so stupid and reckless. She put countless lives at risk when she got behind the wheel of that car. She knew she didn’t have control when I asked if everything was okay. Instead of pulling over calmly, she let those drugs addle her fucking brain and now she’s dead.
I’m angry that once again, Penny, Riley and I are left to pick up the pieces of Hope’s fucking mistakes… and I feel guilty as hell for feeling this way.
I’m a mess.
Riley’s not doing any better.
The two of us are a miserable pair, constantly asking ourselves “what if?”
What if we hadn’t blown up at Hope?
What if Riley hadn’t gotten her own ride home?
What if I would have noticed Hope’s odd behavior sooner?
It’s a never-ending cycle of torturous questions that won’t make a damn bit of difference. We’ll never have answers. The outcome isn’t going to change. At the end of the day, we’re not to blame, and our sister is gone.
Standing in the lobby of a funeral home is the last fucking place I want to be today, but someone had to do it. Penny has her hands full with Mercy, so Riley and I decided we would handle it. Jake offered to be here with us, but I declined. He’s been my rock through everything so far, but this is something Riley and I feel we need to do on our own. A decision I’m starting to regret more and more with every minute that passes.
“I apologize for the wait, ladies,” an older man says, stepping out of what I assume is an office. “My name is Joel Branch.”
“Lexi,” I tell him, shaking his proffered hand. “We spoke on the phone.”
“Yes, yes. And this must be one of your sisters.”
“Riley.”
It’s all she offers, but he doesn’t seem offended. He offers her a sympathetic smile, before asking if anyone else will be joining us.
“No, it’s only—” I stop at the sound of the door opening behind me, and words fail me completely when Blossom walks through it.
“Hey, honey,” she says, walking straight over and pulling me into a hug. Tears blur my vision when she whispers in my ear, “Penny told me where you were when I stopped by the house. Thought you might need an extra shoulder to lean on.”
“Thank you,” I rasp, pulling back to wipe my tears.
She winks and turns to introduce herself to Mr. Branch.
He leads us through the same door he exited, which does in fact turn out to be an office. It’s spacious, with plenty of seating for everyone. Something about the room is calming, but I’ll be damned if I can explain what it is.
We take a seat, and Mr. Branch gives us an overview of the planning process. All the decisions to be made, all the options… it all sounds so overwhelming, but he promises we’ll take things one step at a time. Something about his soft demeanor is comforting, so I simply sit back and follow his lead.
It doesn’t take us long to decide on a graveside service. None of us are religious, and we don’t have a large circle of family and friends to attend a full traditional service. If Hope had another group of friends she spent time with, she never brought them around.
Mr. Branch walks us through the necessary details, and everything seems cut and dry until he asks us about “accessories” and “final touches.”
“He needs to know what you want Hope to wear, and how you’d like her… prepared,” Blossom explains gently, reading the confusion on our faces.
“Oh.”
I glance at Riley, and she looks as dumbstruck as I feel.
A look of understanding crosses Mr. Branch’s face when he realizes we haven’t even thought about that detail. “We can come back to that.”
“No,” Riley speaks up. “It won’t be anything fancy. Hope wouldn’t want that.” She looks over at me. “We should use one of the outfits she bought the day…”
“And the Chucks,” I whisper, trying not to get choked up. I swallow around the lump in my throat. “The matching ones.”
Riley nods, trying to force a smile as she reaches over to squeeze my hand. Squeezing back, I hold on, refusing to let hers go.
“Perfect,” Mr. Branch says, making notes in his planner.
We work through choosing a cemetery—the one where Penny’s mom is buried—and all the necessary details surrounding her grave. Blossom helps us with the obituary, and not for the first time, I’m thankful she decided to show up. Choosing what to write was one of the hardest things I think I’ve ever had to do, and I hope to never have to write another in my life.
Things only get more difficult when the director moves on to the details for the actual service. Choosing music, flowers, and transportation is relatively straightforward, but when he asks about pallbearers, we’re at a loss.
“We don’t…”
Have anyone.
That’s what Riley is trying to say.
We literally have each other, and we aren’t enough.
“Gareth,” Blossom says, volunteering her nephew. “He’d be happy to do it, and I’m sure there are enough Mayson men who would be more than willing to help.”
“We can’t ask them to do that. They don’t even know us.” I protest, but Blossom isn’t hearing it.
“I’m going to step out and make a couple phone calls.”
She leaves us in the capable hands of Mr. Branch, who isn’t the least bit concerned about her ability to find some strong men to carry Hope’s casket.
“The only thing left is the reception,” he says. “If you’re having one?”
Chewing on my lower lip, I look at Riley to see what she thinks.
She lifts a shoulder. “We probably should. Penny insisted on having one at the house when her mom passed. I think she’d want the same for Hope.”
“Okay,” I agree.