Lena had last seen Nan Smalls fifteen years ago, back when she was still Nan Neary.
She and her ex-husband Gary sat together at their son’s funeral, in the front pew of St. Mary’s, so close that Lena could see Nan’s curly hair cascade down Gary’s sleeve.
Lena had read in the local paper about Nan’s wedding to Wesley Smalls six years after that, how the two had met in a grief support group Wes had formed after his own son Danny had drowned at a summer camp, years before Bryce’s death.
The article made their happiness sound like a reward after years of suffering, and it was clear from the quotes of the wedding guests that the couple’s bond was deep and faith-based. Since the accident, Nan had apparently become quite religious.
Gary Neary had moved to Phoenix the year after Bryce was killed. He had established a dental practice in Scottsdale and had remarried—a woman named Margot. A cycling club website had posted a photo of their group, and Gary and Margot were top left, second row, grinning after a metric century.
He looked like a stranger.
They were all different people now.
Nan had cut off all her hair, let it gray completely. Lena guessed that she wouldn’t have recognized her if they had bumped into each other on the street, although Lena had taken care through the years to avoid that very scenario.
Lena had sat down several times to write sympathy notes to the Nearys, but all her drafts were stale with platitudes.
Your tragedy, our tragedy, thinking of you, every parent’s worst nightmare.
The Nearys probably preferred to not hear from Lena anyway, because while there might have been the spark of something between Lena and Gary, in the end it came down to what was between Lena and Bryce, how she had knelt over his lifeless body in the blood-soaked grama grass, with one urgent thought that drowned out all else:
Quick, Lena, hide the body so no one finds out. There’s still time.
JUNE
Please join us in a Neighborhood Celebration for Laurel Perley’s graduation.
June 1st at 6 p.m.
5112 Cottonwood Lane
Festive attire
No presents please