Chapter Sixteen: Saying Goodbye

Therese didn’t want to attend Vicki’s funeral, but Carol and Richard forced her to go. She sat between them on a hard wooden pew at St. Francis’s Cathedral with a handful of others. The Holts sat in the pew in front of her. Ray and Todd were right behind her. A couple of teachers from Durango High were there. Mr. Stern slouched alone in the front pew. Therese felt the burden of his sadness. She could have stopped Vicki, should have stopped her, but had encouraged her for her own selfish reasons. Therese could meet no one’s eyes, especially those of Mr. Stern’s. This was mostly her fault. She pondered the bottle of sleeping pills and Prozac in her medicine cabinet. If she took both bottles of pills, would that be enough to kill her?

The funeral mass was the longest service of Therese’s life. She could feel the cold, hard, accusing eyes glancing her way. When news spread about what had happened, Therese received a lot of cold looks. Even Jen was outraged, though she had enough heart not to say so. She didn’t need to. Therese could see it in her friend’s eyes. The only person in Therese’s life who showed sympathy instead of judgment was Pete Holt.

At the graveside service, her despair and remorse over everything—the loss of her parents, the loss of Than, the loss of Puffy and Dumbo, and now of Vicki, whom she might have saved had she been responsible enough—shuddered through her body in uncontrollable sobs. She stood behind the metal folding chairs, outside of the canopy, several feet behind Carol and Richard, not wanting to be seen, sunglasses shielding her swollen eyes, when Pete Holt approached from behind and took her hand. He squeezed it, and this small act of kindness sent her into hysterics. He took her in his arms and held her as she wept, allowing herself to collapse in his arms.

After a brief reception at Mr. Stern’s apartment, where a few people brought food Mr. Stern would probably never eat, Pete came over and sat with Therese in the swing on her wooden deck where they watched the sunset across Lemon Reservoir. They rocked back and forth, holding hands, saying nothing, and it was nice.

But it wasn’t long before Therese’s thoughts went to Than. As angry as she was for his role in Vicki’s death, and despite her own miserable feelings of guilt, her heart continued to ache for him against her will. She hated herself for that. Why couldn’t she love Pete? He was everything she could want in a guy. He was gorgeous, sweet, funny, and smart. And she could tell how much he loved her. Maybe she could learn to love him back.

As if he sensed her thoughts, Pete lifted her chin, looked into her eyes, and said, “Can I kiss you?”

She slowly nodded and closed her eyes.

Pete’s warm lips softly swept against hers, but instead of exalting, she filled with dread. This wasn’t right. She carried out the kiss and waited for him to end it, but inside, she thought it couldn’t end too quickly.

He looked at her with a smile. “That was nice.”

“Yes, it was.”

He kissed her again, and she bore it, convincing herself it was the right thing to do. How had she ever thought she could marry Death and become a god?

That night, alone in her room, after Carol and Richard had come to talk to her about making good choices—on the heels of her friend’s funeral, really?—she took out her flute and played a tribute to Hermes. As she played a piece by Bach, she sang in her mind her prayer to him: “Help me, Hermes. Help me find a way either to fall out of love with Than or to be with him. I can’t take this agony. Maybe it’s time for me to join my parents. Maybe it’s time for me to die, too. Please, Hermes. All my hopes lie with you.” She continued to play and to meditate on these thoughts as tears rolled down her cheeks until she was too tired to go on.