Page 40 of Arranged Addiction

Chapter 12

Casey

Natalie’s funeral is worse than I could’ve imagined.

“I’m so, so sorry, Barbara.” I hug Natalie’s mom. She’s a small woman, just like her daughter, and she seems tiny now.

“We’re just happy you’re here. I heard you found her… and you were there with her…” Barbara trails off, her face blotchy and her eyes red from crying. “I’m just so glad you two were friends. She loved you.”

“I loved her too.” I hug her dad, Bill, next, a burly guy who sobs like a baby. It breaks me all over again. I speak with them for a few minutes before moving on. I head toward the front pews but stop when I notice a man sitting alone toward the back.

He stares as I approach. It’s like he’s got a bubble around him. The people nearby shy away like they’re afraid to get too close. Not that I can blame them.

Even at a funeral, Declan Whelan is a terror.

“I didn’t know you were coming.” I sit beside him, already emotionally raw and exhausted.

“I felt it was the least I could do.”

“Did you speak to her parents yet?”

He shakes his head. “I offered my condolences over the phone. They don’t need to see me again. I’m a stranger.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

He stares at me like I’m not speaking the same language. “I’m not here for them. I’m not even here for Natalie.” He puts a hand on my knee. “I’m here for you.”

I shiver for a moment. The sincerity of that is striking. It’s obvious that Declan has no clue how to handle my grief, and he mostly just ignores it. Even when we’re at home and I’m crying alone on the couch, it’s like my tears create an invisible barrier. He retreats up to his room like I’m the opposite end of a magnet shoving him away.

“I appreciate that,” I say softly, but brush his hand back. “But I’m sitting up front. You can join me if you want.”

He silently follows, which I didn’t expect.

The service is nice, as far as funerals go anyway. The priest does his thing, and her father gives the eulogy. He’s a mess, but he gets through it. There are about a half-dozen different stories I’d love to add about Natalie and me, like the time we snuck into the student center right before closing and got a dozen day-old bagels from the little bagel shop and ate them all on the floor of her dorm room, or the night we got trapped in an elevator together and ended up getting drunk on a stolen bottle of vodka she had hidden in her backpack, and the campus maintenance guys found us wasted out of our minds when they finally got it working again. She and I were always getting in trouble becausewe felt invincible together. We were a couple of outgoing weirdos, and I always wonder what would’ve happened to me if I hadn’t found a friend like her.

Now she’s gone. And I don’t know what to do.

Declan drives us to the cemetery. Watching them lower Natalie’s casket into the ground nearly breaks me. I don’t know how, but I find Declan’s arm around my shoulders as I sob into my hands. He’s stiff and uncomfortable, but at least he’s trying.

Otherwise, he’s distant and aloof. When everything’s over, I go out to a luncheon with the family. He disappears without a word. I don’t know why that bothers me so much, but it doesn’t matter. I spend the evening finally telling all those stories and making people laugh as they get a glimpse of the friend I loved.

Going home is hard.

Declan’s place is so cold and uninviting. Even though I’ve tried to make it feel more like home, it just isn’t. The colors are all wrong. The blankets and pillows aren’t comfortable enough. I try to curl up on the couch, but it’s like I’m floating in the middle of a frozen river.

I can’t stop staring at the TV.

The front door opens after a while. That’s probably Declan coming home. I don’t bother looking over. I hear him fussing around in the kitchen. I can’t wait for him to be gone so I can be alone again.

The only person who could possibly make me feel better right now is in the ground.

But he comes over and lowers a tray down onto the coffee table. I glance at him, frowning. “What’s this?”

“Sleepy time tea and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

I stare at the tray. “You cut off the crust.”

“Sheila said you’d like that.”