July 13, 2026

Nicholas Hyatt sat in his car a block up the hill from the United Methodist Church watching the stream of somberly dressed people, heads hanging low, climb its stone steps. Paul Simon’s “Diamonds On The Souls Of Her Shoes” played quietly through the car, Nicholas having lowered the volume as he got within a block of the church. He breathed in slowly, attempting to moderate his heart rate, which on the drive had been racing faster than he expected. He considered one more cigarette but changed his mind. He nervously drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the clock to reach 3:58, when he planned to jump out of the car and head into the church himself.

However, that was still ten minutes away, and he felt self-conscious sitting in his car on the street, not that a grey Ford Fusion, even with out-of-state plates, was likely to draw much attention, especially now that Bakiti Kumalo’s bass was turned way down. Nicholas grabbed another Breath Mint from his cup holder and popped it in his mouth. So far, he hadn’t recognized any of the swarm of people entering the church, but then again, why would he? Anyone he might recognize would have been from forty years ago. What was the likelihood he’d even recognize them?

Forty years. The thought made his eyes well up again.  ‘Damn,’ he thought, ‘I’m like a bubbling brook.’ He turned his head away from the church’s entrance as if to escape the memories. He didn’t remember this part of Grandville that well. Forty years ago, he would have avoided this part of town, at the time a little too upper-class for his comfort. He wondered why this church ended up being the place where Rachel’s funeral service would be held. She was even less religious than he was at the time. “Yeah, God, sure,” she once joked, “that guy with all of those man-made stories in the Bible.”

Closing his eyes, he thought back to the last night he spent with her. While she slept face down, torso and left leg out from under the covers, U2 t-shirt scrunched up, showing her lovely, freckled back, he fought back tears then too.  The smell of her perfume tickled his nostrils, and he recalled believing that he could die engulfed by that smell. While her breath rose and fell, he stroked her hair, causing her to stir. He was caught in the purgatory of wanting to watch her sleep and seeing her awake and engage with the world fully.

“Diamonds On The Souls Of Her Shoes” had switched to “You Can Call Me Al” as the car’s digital clock switched to 3:55. Rachel had so loved this song, taping the video off of MTV so that whenever she wished she could watch Chevy Chase act goofy through the video. For the last six hours, Nicholas had listened to nothing but records from their four years together in college, starting with Duran Duran, whose concert was the place they met, pressed up against the stage by the mob of screaming fans. Luckily, Rachel’s tastes in music were all over the place, meaning that his road trip playlist ranged from Duran Duran to Kurtis Blow to Alabama to Prince to Paul Simon. “Anything but Jazz,” Rachel would say when anyone asked her what she wanted to hear. She didn’t think she could dance to Jazz and if she couldn’t dance to it, then the music wasn’t worth hearing. But if the song had a beat that made her swing her lovely hips, she was amused. Of course, it didn’t take much to amuse Rachel in those days, which was part of her allure.

Nicholas wondered if her personality had changed in the years preceding her death. Not knowing much about her post-college life was one of the reasons he was hanging back to show up at the funeral only as the official service began. He wouldn’t know how to make small talk with people who represented some part of Rachel’s life well removed from his time with her. He certainly didn’t expect people to want to hear his remembrances of Rachel, of her flirtatious nature at the time, of that peculiar way she dominated the room at a bar or a party, of the way she, as he described to her at the time, served as a lighthouse to so many wandering souls, his most dramatically.

Grabbing one more Breath Mint, he killed the engine, shutting off Simon. He took another deep breath and got out of his car, nervously looking up and down the street to see anyone else heading into the church. The street was mostly deserted, with just an elderly couple several blocks up the hill standing aimlessly at the corner. He started a slow walk to the church steps. The air was still, and the humidity immediately overwhelmed him now that he was away from the air-conditioned car. He pulled irritatingly at his collar. While he had eschewed a tie, he had put on a Bolo, the kind of accessory Rachel teased him about incessantly back when they hung out together. “Who do you think you are, Nicky, Ronald Reagan?” she teased.

Nicholas had to hurry up the steps into the doorway as he saw someone going to close the interior doors. “Don’t forget to sign the book,” a young man indicated, pointing to the right of the closing door, while pushing a service program at him with his other hand.

“I’ll do it afterwards,” Nicholas grunted, slipping past the closing door, eying open seats near the back. The church was only about half full, which surprised him. He didn’t feel comfortable sitting in the far back, so he selected a seat about six rows from the back near the far-left aisle that could allow easy and unnoticed entry and exit. The church was poorly lit, aiding his furtive entrance.

Settled in his seat, Nicholas was surprised to see no casket at the front, just a photograph situated among  flowers. He had trouble seeing the photograph in any detail, but Nicholas could see even from his far pew that it was Rachel, the black hair he knew and loved so well so many years ago a frosted white, her aquamarine eyes still vibrant. The pastor, a short, balding man came to the front, standing to the right of Rachel’s picture. “Welcome, everyone, to the funeral service of Rachel Mabry.” He swung his body to his right, sweeping his arms toward the picture as if handing over a bouquet of flowers.

“Friends, first, let us pray,” started the pastor. “Oh, father in Heaven, please bring comfort to the family and friends of Rachel Veronica Cox Mabry.” Hearing Rachel’s full name with the added married “Mabry” at the end seized Nicholas in a way he was not expecting. He kept his head hung low, eyes closed tight and tuned out the pastor.

Instead, he recalled one of the times he and Rachel had hung out at the Grand Saloon. It was about a year after they had become friends, hanging out three or four days a week. They were there with several mutual friends, mostly hers. Rachel had ordered a round of peppermint schnapps, a drink Nicholas couldn’t stand. As she sat with her shot glass just below her mouth, she announced to the table, “drink your Peppermint Schnapps/drink to Rachel Veronica Cox/Remember, don’t dribble a drop/don’t let this moment be lost.” Since Nicholas couldn’t stand the drink, he downed his with a sneer, snort, and glug of water chaser.  “Wuss!” yelled Rachel. All Nicholas could do was smile sheepishly, as she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, much to the delight of her adoring, applauding audience.

Nicholas realized the Pastor had ended the prayer and everyone else was sitting down. Luckily the two women at the other side of his pew hadn’t noticed him still standing several seconds after the rest of the room had sat down. As the Pastor asked the audience to join him for a hymn, Nicholas pretended seriously perusing his hymnal. While the Pastor led the viewers in “Be Still, My Soul,” Nicholas maintained the fraud of following along, but he was distracted by a woman dressed in black slipping into the pew behind the women at his far right. ‘I guess I wasn’t the tardiest,’ he chuckled to himself.

While the majority sang, Nick’s eyes darted around the room trying to identify anyone he might recognize. The front rows were too far away, with too many people between the front row and him to make out what family members might be there. Among the crowd that he could see well, no one stood out, making him suspect that most of their mutual college friends of the time had fallen out of her life or perhaps even had died themselves. Knowing it was wrong, he took comfort in the fact that he probably would be able to get in and out of here with little interaction with others.

The pastor had moved onto reading scripture, so Nicholas leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, allowing himself to be awash in memories of Rachel Cox. So many of those memories took place at Livingston Lake where they spent so many days and evenings. He had pondered if he should drive out to Livingston Lake after the service as a final act of remembrance but knew that it would add at least two hours to his already 6-hour drive home. He didn’t dare push his luck.

Livingston Lake had been the place where Nicholas gave Rachel the emerald necklace he had bought for her birthday, June 28^th, a day he always accepted as hers. As the two ladies down the pew gave an “amen” in unison to something the pastor read, Nicholas recollected Rachel’s reaction that hot summer day as they both sat on the remote beach that most of the lake-goers avoided.

They had been admiring a small sailboat, red and blue sail bouncing erratically over the waves several hundred yards from the shore. They had followed a VW Beetle into the parking lot that precariously bore the sailboat on its roof, then chuckled when they saw a pot-bellied middle-aged man spill out of the driver’s side, while presumably his two kids, tow-headed twins, raced from the passenger side to start unloading the sailboat. “There you go,” Rachel had laughed, “the American family spawn.”

Seduced by the moment, Nick decided to give her the necklace there, not later back at her apartment. He hadn’t wrapped it but figured the stunning “Arsdale Jewelry” box, with its fancy serif lettering, served as the best packaging.

“Nick, this is really beautiful. You shouldn’t have.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel shrugged her deeply tanned shoulders. “It seems so expensive and more intimate than our usual presents. After all, I only got you that latest XTC album for yours.”

“Shush, Rach,” Nicholas whispered as he cuddled closer to her on the sand, “it’s not a competition.”

Rachel sighed, placed the necklace around her neck, and lay back down on the sand. She murmured quietly.

Nicholas shifted slightly so that he could look more directly at her. “So, what are you thinking?”

“Nothing specific, Nick. Just enjoying the sun.”

“Nothing? Really?”

Nicholas fought back a slight twinge of frustration. He laid back so that his head was next to her feet, while his feet extended slightly past her head. “It can’t be nothing, Rach. Talk to me.”

“Honestly, Nick. Let’s just revel here in the quiet. I don’t want to think about anything.”

“Stuff’s going to be happening to both of us soon. We really should talk about it.” Nick dug a small hole in the sand with his left heel. Rachel turned her head away from his feet.

“Nick, don’t. You’ve got New York, exciting work with the Jets. I’ve got Columbus, graduate school. For now, can’t we just enjoy this beautiful day?”

Up front, a man in a black pinstripe suit had taken the spot where the pastor had stood. According to the program shoved at Nick at the door, he assumed this was Michael J. Spinnaker, whomever that was, to deliver the eulogy. Nick wondered how Spinnaker was associated with Rachel. Although he appeared to be about Nick’s age, the name did not spark a memory from their college days. Spinnaker was several inches taller than the pastor, in excellent shape, carrying a healthy head of black hair with a little grey sprouting around the sideburns.

Spinnaker took several minutes to set up pieces of paper, presumably his notes, on the makeshift lectern. He smiled nervously at the front pew, making Nick assume he was well acquainted with Rachel’s immediate family. Finally, he took a deep breath and began.

“Welcome, everyone. My name is Michael Spinnaker and I was, well, still am, Rachel’s first cousin. Rachel’s family asked me to deliver the eulogy today because in some ways, after her mother and father, I knew Rachel the longest.” ‘Ah, the cousin, Mike,’ Nicholas recalled. He had never met Mike, who was off at college in South Carolina when he and Rachel were together, but she had talked about him a lot. “Saint Michael,” she called him.

Spinnaker continued, “I was 8 months older than her when she was born, and our families hung out together a lot when Rach and I were young.”

Nick bristled at the “Rach,” a term of endearment he wanted to guard from the general populus. Sure, family members can use it, even cousins, but it seemed to cheapen her memory, as if she was the flighty blonde from Friends.  Nick scoffed at his thought of the 90s sitcom, airing a couple of years after he had married Victoria who teased him repeatedly during its first season about his “Rach.”

While Spinnaker droned on from the front, Nick thought back to that moment a few days after her birthday that became the second-to-last time he would see her.

It had been July 1^st. They were hanging at her apartment and discussing how they would spend the 4^th of July.

“I’m just saying, Rachel, that my family would love it if we drove out to the farm and spent the day with them.”

“Nick, I’d really like to see Ben and his band play the festival over in Chaddock. Live music followed by fireworks is a little more appealing than a cookout, sparklers, and cow manure.”

“You’re just smitten with Ben. This would be the fourth time you’d have seen them, right?

“So?” Rachel’s tone had turned acerbic. “He’s a friend and I like supporting him and the guys. Besides, they play good music.”

“But, I had already told Mom we’d come home.”

“Without asking me?”

“I mentioned it several weeks ago and you had no objections.”

“I don’t remember that. Besides, what’s the big deal? You go home and I’ll go to Chaddock. Everyone is happy.”

“Ben especially.” Nick regretted the comment as soon as it came out of his mouth.

Rachel glared at Nick for a few minutes, then slowly got up, went to her bedroom and slammed the door behind her, a scenario that had played out a few times before. This time Nick, however, didn’t race to the door begging for forgiveness, or at least a chance to keep talking. He decided to storm out himself, even if it was a pathetic act in an empty room.

Nicholas’ thoughts were interrupted by a flurry of laughter and clapping from the crowd. He looked to the front to see Spinnaker turning beet red. “Oops, sorry, Rach,” he said, turning to face her picture, “maybe I shouldn’t have shared that one.” He wiped at his brow with a handkerchief. “Anyway, as most of us in this room know, that is the kind of wide-eyed romantic Rachel was, and I think all of us desperately wanted to protect that to her last day.”

Nicholas tensed up at the idea of “desperately wanting to protect her,” a feeling he knew all too well. Early in their friendship, Rachel showed incredibly poor choice in boyfriends, almost always fawning over local musicians or poets, leaving sensible, down-to-earth guys like him in her wake. Even before he fully accepted his feelings for her, he still believed himself as her protector. And as his feelings grew, he acknowledged how he seemed fated to be the clean-up man, the guy with the mop and the bucket following behind the elephant parade. The emotions had come forth when he finally admitted to Rachel how much that hurt him.

They had been walking to the Met Theater for a late afternoon showing of some movie.

“Rachel, can I admit to something?” They were waiting at a stoplight.

“Of course, Nicky.” Rachel was dressed in black leggings and a black backless tank top that showed off the freckles that dominated Nick’s dreams. She carried a light grey sweater that he knew she would have to put on as soon as they got into the theater.

He turned away from her and looked down the street they were waiting to cross, watching a line of cars navigating the two lanes at the light. “I was upset that you left last night with that yuppie poet.”

“I didn’t leave with him, Nick,” Rachel snapped back. “I told you that he was going to give me a ride in his MG. When we got back to the bar, you were the one who’d left.” Rachel crumpled the sweater in her hands.

“I waited for 45 minutes, and you never came back. I felt pretty conspicuous sitting there at the end of the bar. After a while I think even the bartender felt sorry for me. He offered me a free beer.” Nick didn’t admit to her that he turned it down saying he didn’t need the guy’s pity.

“Well, what if I did go home with Nigel? You’re not my keeper.” The pedestrian light had turned green and Rachel headed quickly across the street. Nick raced to keep up, grabbing her elbow.

“Rachel, wait. Don’t you understand? I want to be that guy. I want to be the guy you go home with. Hasn’t it been obvious?”

Rachel pulled them to the other side of the road.  “C’mon, Nick, don’t be so melodramatic. We’re friends, really good friends. And that’s in part because we don’t want to mess it up with obligations and expectations.”

“We don’t?” Nick had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, causing Rachel to have to turn around and walk back to him. “Maybe you don’t, but do you have any idea how difficult it is for me, knowing you so deeply, but knowing that I can only go so deep before having to kick back to the surface for air? That sucks in and of itself, but add in that I still have to bear witness to your flirtations with guys like Nigel or the bassist in whatever band plays Moe’s next.”

Rachel laughed. “Oh, Nick, never the bassist. You’re so funny.”

“I’m not laughing, Rachel.”

Rachel stood in front of him, looking closely at his face. She reached out and grabbed his arm. “No, you’re not, dear Nicky.” She sighed deeply. “What am I going to do?” she asked looking to the sky.

“What are we going to do, Rachel? I didn’t intend to dump this entirely on you. I just wanted to make sure you understand where I am coming from.”

Rachel’s hand moved from his arm down to his hand. She grabbed it and gave it a squeeze. “Look, let’s skip the movie. What about we just go to the Grand Saloon and have a couple of beers? We’ll figure this out, that’s what friends do.”

Nick felt the coolness of Rachel’s hand in his, despite that it was 80 degrees. It was one of the traits that he always associated with Rachel: cold hands or cold feet even when it was 100 degrees out. He decided to drop the subject and follow her cold feet, hand in hand, to the Grand Saloon.

Nicholas was jolted out of his reverie by the pastor asking if anyone wanted to come to the front and pay tribute to Rachel. He straightened up, banishing the burning memory of the last time his and Rachel’s happiness had been tested.  At the front, a young man had worked his way to the dais.

“Good afternoon, all. I am Marlon Mabry, Rachel’s son. My sister, Maureen, and I really appreciate everyone coming out today. As you probably know, Mom’s last few months were very difficult, and Mo and I have cried a thousand tears through that time. However, through all of it Mom never stopped being the loving and kind Rachel Mabry that we all knew. Her spirit could never be crushed, even as her body was wasting away. I like to believe that kind of spirit will hover around each of us, over us, within us, for eternity. Mom, you were loved and blessed all of us here with your love. Thank you. We miss you!”

Nicholas found himself keeping his head down to hide his tears even though he knew no one, not even the ladies at the end of his pew, could see them. Would Rachel’s spirit pay any attention to him? He also wondered if Rachel’s ex-husband was here. He knew she was divorced as some of his friends who were friends of Rachel’s on Facebook had supported her new-found freedom several years ago. From the nature of the comments, which he knew were likely one-sided, few of her friends cared for Reginald Mabry.

A few people followed Marlon to the front to offer tributes. Nick recognized none of them, and whatever association they had with Rachel, meant little to him. He allowed himself to succumb to the memory of first seeing Rachel at the Duran Duran concert, standing next to her through the break between opening act and headline, surprised that this dark-haired cutie in a swooping skirt paid him any attention. When the concert was over, Rachel abandoned the girlfriend she had come with and went with Nicholas to the closest bar. Nothing romantic had happened that night, but they had connected enough that when she gave him her number, it opened the door to countless hours talking about music, books, social issues, and deepest fears.

‘We probably should have talked more about our fears,’ he mumbled to himself, just before noticing the pastor coming back to the front.

“Friends, let us sing again. Please turn to ‘I Watch The Sunrise’ in your hymnal.”

“Well, don’t you have a lot of audacity to show up here?”  The voice, even in whisper, was sharp and clipped coming over Nicholas’ right shoulder.

“Excuse me?” Nicholas responded, looking behind him. Sitting there was a short red-haired woman in a black pantsuit. Her mascara had clearly run leaving black streaks on her cheeks. Nick deduced that she had been the tardy arrival, sliding down the pew once she recognized him. “Do I know you?”

“Shhh. Let us sing.”

Nick tried to catch up with the group. “But you are always close to me/following all my ways/may I always be close to you/following your ways, Lord.” Nick shut his eyes tight, wondering if the skeptical Rachel he knew had become a fanatic follower in her final days.

The song wrapped up and the ushers began allowing the rows to leave. Before he could slide out the side of his pew down the aisle, the red-headed woman had moved in front of his pew exit, essentially blocking his path.

“I can’t believe you showed up here, Nick.”

“Do I know you?” Nicholas peered deeply at the woman’s face, trying to recognize her. He thought there was something familiar in the glaring visage.

“Hah! I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t remember me. I’m Claire, Rachel’s friend from college.”

With that, Nick’s memories came tumbling back: “Abundantly Claire” as he called her in private moments with just Rachel, a moniker earned by Claire’s unwavering sense of directness. He held out his hand. “Wow, sorry, Claire. I didn’t recognize you.”

Claire ignored his hand. “I did wear my hair long in those days and weighed a good bit more. The sin would not be you forgetting me.”

“Come again?”  Nick looked nervously around him. With Claire effectively blocking the end of the pew, his chance of getting out of the church before any post-service interactions occurred was fading away. He wanted desperately to turn around and see if the two women at the other end of the pew had departed.

Claire ignored the question, her eyes sweeping toward the main aisle. “Hey, Lenny, come here.”

Nick followed her eyes, feeling his body clench. Coming through the pew behind him was a big, burly man that Nick did remember well: Rachel’s little brother, Len. Lenny had been in high school when he knew Rachel, but even then he had the body one would expect of a defensive lineman, over 6 feet and 250 pounds of muscle. While the man lumbering toward Claire was a little flabbier, he was no less intimidating. Nick encouraged himself to relax; he was here after all to pay respect to Lenny’s older sister.

“Claire? Oh my God, you did make it!” He embraced her with a bear-hug.

“Yeah, sorry, traffic was a pain leaving Philadelphia. I got in right after the service started. Guess who appeared also to get here at the last minute?” She gestured toward Nick who did take the opportunity to swivel around to see the two women standing at the other end of the pew chatting with an old man with a cane.

Lenny looked blankly at Nick.

“How can you forget this mug, Lenny. It’s Nick Hyatt.”

Lenny stared intently at Nick, eyeing him up as if a predator sizing up his prey in the wild. “Well, well, it sure is. You’re a bit older, Nick, buddy, with the grey goatee and wild eyebrows, but otherwise you look like you did the day you slipped out of town.”

Nick held up his hands defensively. “Hey, guys,” he said, eyes darting between the odd couple of Lenny and Claire, “I came just to show my respect to Rachel. I certainly don’t want to enflame any old grudges.”

“Grudges? That’s what you call this?” Claire’s voice was controlled but her glare showed her anger.

“Uh, I don’t know what ‘this’ is. Look, if it helps, let me through and I will leave now. I certainly don’t want to make a bad day worse for any of you.”

“You don’t want to make a bad day worse? Ain’t that a hoot, Lenny?”

Lenny crowded the end of the pew. Nick took a couple of nervous steps backwards. “C’mon guys. Let’s not make a scene. Rachel would certainly not want that.”

“How the fuck would you know what Rachel wanted, you twerp?” Lenny grabbed Nick’s bolo. Lenny’s face was beet red; Nick wondered how white his had become.

Claire had slipped back into the pew behind Nick to allow Lenny full access to Nick’s pew. He had no reasonable hope of jumping the pew and escaping, but Claire certainly seemed to want to show that such a plan was out of the question. Nick glanced over his shoulder to see that the two women and the man with the cane had been joined by a couple of teenage girls. No escape route was available. He couldn’t help noting that other pews and the main aisle were emptying rather quickly, people flowing toward the doors where there was a backup as people stopped to exchange wishes with the family.

“Look, guys, I’m not exactly sure what I did to make you both mad. Whatever it was, everyone makes mistakes. I apologize for whatever mine were. Let’s leave it at that and I will leave you to your grief.”

“Everything all right?” The pastor had made his way down the aisle and stood behind Lenny. “Anything I can do to help, Mr. Cox?”

“No, sir.” Lenny said, dropping his hands from Nick’s bolo, smoothing Nick’s shirt as if that had been his plan all along. “Just reintroducing myself to one of Rachel’s old friends.”

“Well, then, thank you for coming, Mr. . . .” The pastor held out his hand.

Nick shoved his hand past Lenny’s hulking body to respond to the shake. “My pleasure, Reverend. Nicholas Hyatt. Thank you for leading such a lovely service.”

“These things are never easy, especially when the deceased had been going through such a painful fight with cancer, but I don’t need to tell you.”

“Hmm. You probably do, Reverend,” Claire spat out.

Sensing the tension, the pastor shuffled down the aisle toward the crowd at the doorway.

“I am sure these last few months sucked,” Nick confessed. “I am so sorry, guys.” He swept his eyes from Claire to Lenny.

“Sorry doesn’t feed the bulldog, Nick. Besides,” Lenny said, grabbing Nick’s bolo again, “it was more than a few months.”

“Look, I clearly can’t make anything better for you two. Why don’t you just step aside and I’ll leave immediately?”

Lenny looked past Nick at the central aisle of the nave emptying. “You know, old buddy, why don’t you, Claire, and I just sit down here for a few minutes and have a chat?” His hand swept open his suit jacket, and Nick thought for a second that he might have seen the handle of a gun tucked inside his waistband. Meanwhile, Claire had shuffled down the pew she was in and adroitly hopped over to take a seat on Nick’s right. Lenny pushed Nick’s left shoulder hard enough to force him down.

Nick looked toward the front of the church. Only a handful of people were still milling around the dais; he glanced over his right shoulder to see not many more by the door. As he brought his eyes back, he couldn’t help but see Claire fidgeting with her clutch.

“So, Nick, old boy. Tell us what you’ve been up to?”  Lenny pulled a piece of chewing gum out of his suit jacket and slowly unwrapped it before slyly slipping it into his mouth.

“Uh, what do you want to hear? I live in New Jersey now.” Nick hoped that the two of them might find some solace in the effort he made to come all the way back to their hometown to honor Rachel.

“Uh, yeah. I see you’re married.” Lenny pulled up Nick’s left hand to examine the black wedding band. “You bring your wife?”

“Uh, no, she couldn’t make it.”

Claire snorted. “Did you even invite her?” She was dabbing at her makeup with a Kleenex and a compact.

“I told her I was coming here for a friend’s funeral. She figured it wasn’t worth her time to come and go knowing no one.”

“So, you are going to turn around and drive back home?”  Lenny seemed to be inching even closer to Nick on the pew bench, and the heat was increasing. Nick could feel his undershirt sticking to his torso.

Nick determined that if he didn’t take some control now, while there were still a few people loitering in the area, he might never get a chance. “Look, Lenny, I saw your gun. I don’t know what your intentions are, but how can you bring that into a church?”

Lenny snorted. “I’m a cop, Nicky boy. More importantly, let’s follow your logic. If I didn’t expect you to return to the funeral of my beautiful sister, the woman you abandoned all those years ago, why would I have come here with intentions of using it on you?”

Nick could feel his sweat rolling down the back of his neck. For a church made of stone with few windows, it certainly wasn’t cool.

“Abandoned Rachel?” Nick looked towards Claire, then back at Lenny. “Look, guys, if that’s what you thought, it’s not that simple.”

Claire lightly punched Nick in his right arm. “C’mon, Nick, don’t lie. I was there when you left her. I was the one who took her calls night after night, who drove her home from bars when she drank herself silly to try and forget how much you hurt her.”

“How much I hurt her?”  Nick almost smiled at the ridiculous notion but realized that would not help his case. “She hurt me. At worst, I would admit that we hurt each other equally. We were young and immature.”  A church official was now starting at the first pew checking for trash or other things left by the attendees. Nick felt a little less vulnerable.

Lenny tightened his grip on Nick’s Bolo tie, pulling his neck to face him. “You know that Rachel was so devastated by you leaving that her life fell apart. It was years before she regained her confidence. She hated herself for being so in love with you.”

“Love with me? You got me confused with someone else. Rachel felt a lot of things for me, but love was never one of them.”

Claire chortled. “Her diary suggested differently.”

Nick truly felt flummoxed. “Her diary?”

Claire pulled his right arm to get him to face her. “Yeah. Don’t pretend you didn’t know about the diary.”

“Of course, I knew about the diary. But I find it hard to believe she was writing that stuff about me.”

“Well, she was, hot shot.”

Nick hesitated, trying to align two versions of a past, one that had formed the foundation for the rest of his life and one that suggested he’d been a fool. “Claire, I am being honest with you. She never told me she loved me, not in that kind of soulmate way. She reiterated for a long time that I was her best friend, but not the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.”

“Not according to the diary.”

“Well,” Nick mumbled, trying to find the mortar that might fuse these conflicted pasts, “when in the diary did she write that she loved me? Maybe she addressed her real feelings after I went to New York to start my job with the Jets?”

“Oh, both before and after that, Nick.”

Nick felt his head snapping back toward Lenny. He wondered if the Bolo tie would survive the day. “Besides, Nick, Rachel had told Mom and Dad and me that Easter before you left that she hoped for a proposal. Mom and Dad were so excited. I am not sure Dad ever really recovered from the shock of seeing Rachel so devastated by your departure.”

Nick stared speechless. He still couldn’t conceive what they were saying to him.  He could feel more time slipping away, and he knew he needed to hit the road soon if he was going to be home by 11:00 as he had promised Victoria. If this went on much longer, he would have to call her and make up an excuse for his tardiness.  That thought gave him an idea.

“Look, guys,” he said, smoothing his shirt, “is there a coffee shop nearby? It’s obvious we need a little time to sort through this. What you are telling me is, honestly, news to me. A calm conversation over a cup of coffee would help us settle it, and I could certainly use the cup before I hit the road.” He wanted to make sure they understood that he had a small window of time to explore (and in some ways, explode) the past.

“There’s a Starbucks about four blocks away,” Claire offered.

“Great. Give me the address and I’ll meet you there.”

“No, that won’t work, hot shot.” Lenny’s glare made Nick wonder how many potential criminals (or innocent people for that matter) wilted under his watch. “Claire, why don’t you drive and I will ride with Mr. Hyatt?”

Nick felt sick. So much for that exit plan. “Wait a second, don’t you need to stick around here to meet with the well-wishers?”

“Don’t worry. Lenny, I will let everyone know that we need to step out for a few minutes to chat with someone we didn’t expect to see, but that we will catch up with everyone at the park.” Claire smiled falsely.

“The park? Are you extending the service to the park?”

“More of a casual meet-and-greet for those of us who knew Rachel so well. You’d feel out of place there. Let’s go.” Lenny grabbed Nick’s arm and forcibly lifted him out of the pew and directed him into and down the aisle. Lenny nodded at a few people near the two sets of doors, and Nick could hear Claire behind him muttering apologies and even air kissing a few people still standing around.

“Where you parked?” Lenny asked.

“Up the street a little bit. You sure this isn’t a hassle? You’ll have to come back here for your car.”

“No worries. It will be on the way to the park; Claire will have to drive right past it, so I will get my ride with her. Now let’s get a move on.”

Nick made eye contact with a few people on the street, but no one had any reason to suspect anything was peculiar about two men walking very closely side by side from the church. At one point, Nick thought he saw Rachel’s mom standing and talking to two women in fancy clothes. He was tempted to ask Lenny to stop; a diversion might create some more openings to slip away, but he hesitated. He wasn’t sure it was Rachel’s mom and he wasn’t sure what would be the bigger humiliation: having it be her or having it not be her.

Instead, Lenny marched him toward the car, arm in arm. They stopped in front of his Fusion. “It unlocked?” Lenny asked. Nick nodded. “Then give me the keys.”

“Oh, come on, Lenny, what do you think I am going to do?  I’m not some common criminal who might make a dash from the police. I am going willingly.”

“I’ll feel better having the keys until we are at the Starbucks. I don’t think you want to make a scene with Mrs. Cox standing over there.”

That had been her. Nick berated himself for not taking advantage of the moment a few seconds earlier. Maybe Rachel’s mom would also have been angry with him, but he would have felt less vulnerable with her reaction, even if accumulated with Lenny’s, in front of people on the street. Instead, he handed Lenny the keys and sheepishly opened his passenger door. Lenny had quickly slid into the driver’s seat. “Buckle up,” he said smiling. “Don’t want to get a ticket.”

Nick fastened his seat belt, still wondering what nightmare he had wandered into. Out on the street, he could see Claire hugging someone and crossing the road to a small parking lot. Good or bad, it seemed unlikely he would be left alone with Lenny for long at Starbucks.

As Lenny started the car, he immediately turned down the sound on Paul Simon. “Never could stand that crap you and Rachel used to listen to. I don’t suppose you have any Iron Maiden, do you?” He looked over at Nick and smiled as he pulled out. “Nah, I didn’t think so. Well, it doesn’t matter. We’ll be there in two or three minutes.”

Sure enough they were. Not enough time for Nick to formulate any strategy other than to maybe use the restroom as an escape, whatever that might mean. He visualized one of those rather narrow clerestory windows high up a wall that is always big enough to facilitate an escape in a bad sitcom or action movie.

As Lenny pulled into a parking space by the Starbucks, he turned off the engine and glanced in the rear-view mirror. “I think that’s Claire a few cars back. She has a nifty little red corvette.” He paused. “Yeah, we tease her all the time about still living in 1999.”

By the time they had reached the Starbucks’ door, Claire was pulling into a streetside parking spot a couple of cars ahead of Nick’s car. “Wait up!” she yelled from the car. Lenny grabbed Nick’s arm again like he had at the church.

“Look out, someone is coming out.” Lenny pushed Nick out of the way of the door. Sure enough, a young girl with purple hair and a neck tattoo came out juggling a coffee. She eyed Nick suspiciously, who returned a weak smile, hoping she might see his dilemma. However, instead she gave Lenny a smile, turned and walked up the street away from them. Meanwhile, Claire had caught up to them, opening the door for them to enter.

“Claire, get me a Blonde Roast Tall. Here’s enough for you and Nicky boy, too.” He shoved a couple of bills into Claire’s hands. “What do you want, Nicky?”

“Just an iced coffee. Make it a Grande. I’ve got a long drive back tonight.”

Lenny smiled at Claire, who headed up to the counter. Lenny directed them to a table near the front windows. “Long drive, eh? So, did you drive in just for the funeral? No plans to stay in town and revisit some haunts, see some lost friends?”

“Uh, I don’t really have any friends around here anymore, Lenny.”

“I’m sure you don’t. But, let’s wait for Claire to get back before we discuss that.” Lenny had laid Nick’s keys on the table between them.

“Mind if I hit the bathroom quickly? I didn’t get a chance to stop before the service.” Nick started to get up from his seat.

Lenny grabbed his arm for a second, his forearm bumping into the keys Nick desperately wanted to reclaim. “Wait for Claire. She’s about ready to come with the drinks.”

The two of them sat in silence waiting for Claire, whom Nick couldn’t see behind him, making it an agonizing wait. He looked around the empty coffee shop, all the tables unoccupied and no one lingering near the part of the counter he could see without fully turning his head. After a couple of minutes, Lenny stood up, pulled the chair to his right and Nick’s left out for Claire, and stepped around the table to help Claire with the coffees.

Seizing his opportunity, Nick quickly swiped his arm across the table and knocked his keys into his lap. Luckily, neither Lenny nor Claire seemed to have noticed, too caught up in balancing the drinks. Claire set down Nick’s in front of him while he squeezed his legs together tight to hide the keys.

Lenny didn’t seem to notice their absence as he sat back down. He took a sip of his coffee, leaned back and said, “So, where do we start?”

“Can I hit the bathroom first?” Looking at Claire, Nick elaborated, “I told Lenny I didn’t have a chance to go before the service.”

“Go ahead,” sighed Claire.

“Wait, where are the keys?” Lenny asked.

Ready for such an observation, Nick reluctantly pushed them forward as he got up out of his seat, causing them to fall to the floor with a tinkle. “They ended up on the floor,” he said, “I think they fell as we put all the drinks on the table.”  Nick reached down for them. Lenny grabbed his arm.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Lenny, don’t! He’s not going anywhere. There’s no exit door by the bathrooms.”

Nick grabbed the key, being able to hide his disappointment as he bent down. “Be right back,” he said while his eyes scanned the coffee shop. Sure enough, it looked like the restroom to his right was nowhere close to an exit. Maybe there’d be a window.

When Nick got into the bathroom, he did find the small high-on-the-wall window he feared. It didn’t take long for him to assess that even if he could somehow figure out how to get up there, the window was going to be too small to navigate. He buried his face in his hands for a minute, then decided he was overreacting. “Take a piss,” he muttered under his breath, “go back out there, and talk this through. You can still be on the road within an hour. You’ll figure out what to say when you call home then.”

As he returned to the table, Lenny and Claire quickly shut down the quiet conversation they were having. Sitting down, Nick held up his hands in the typical “surrender” pose and asked smiling, “Thanks, guys. Now where do we begin?”

Claire forced a half-smile. “How about at the end? How did you even know of Rachel’s death given that she hadn’t heard from you in forty years?”

Nick sipped at his coffee, keeping his eyes on the top as he hesitantly responded, “uh, well, I googled her and saw the obituary.”

“That’s rather fortuitous, buddy,” Lenny mocked, “Rachel was hardly one to show up in Google searches.”

“Hey, I’m just being honest.”

“His point is a good one, Nick. How did you just happen to Google her the week she died?”

Nick felt the color rushing to his face. Sheepishly, he answered, “I have been in the habit of Googling her every couple of weeks the last few years, especially once the GoFundMe page was set up to help with her cancer treatment.”

Lenny and Claire stared at Nick, mouths agape. “Did you contribute?” Lenny asked angrily.

Nick bit his lip. “No. I didn’t want to attract attention to me.”

“You can contribute anonymously, you ass.”

“Lenny, I know that, but there still is a trail with the payment.” Both Lenny and Claire still looked dubious. “I know. I might as well start with the confession. I never really got over Rachel, and especially the last few years, with my kids off to college, I have felt haunted by the ghosts of the past.”

“Interesting,” replied Lenny, “but still inconsistent with Rachel’s past. As a result, you are sitting in a Starbucks with the ghosts of her present.”

“Everyone stop with the damn Dickens,” interjected Claire.  Lenny glared at her. ‘C’mon, Lenny, loosen up a little. All of this is, sadly a long time ago.”

“Not long enough when it’s your sister,” he pouted.

“Help us out, Nick. What do you mean ‘never really got over Rachel.’”

Nick paused to form an answer. As he did so, two young women came into the coffeeshop, both pushing prams with babies. One pushed her pram to a table adjacent to theirs and headed to the counter. The second woman took a chair next to the pram and placed her pram to her side. All three were directly in Nick’s view. They reminded Nick of something puzzling him.

“I promise to answer that, but can I ask you a question, first? So, Rachel had two kids, eh, with her husband?”

“Yeah, good kids. What’s it to you?” Every time Lenny spoke, he came armed with vitriol. Nick felt Claire, on the other hand, had lightened on the attitude a little. He looked directly at her.

“You remember, Claire, how Rachel said she never wanted children?”

Claire nodded. “Yeah, she was pretty adamant about that. But that was Rachel. Nothing would get in the way of her dreams.”

“Seeing her kid like that at the funeral is just one of many shocks I have had today.”

“People change a lot over 40 years, Nick. You know that. Reginald Mabry was a very good man when Rachel married him, and she happily bore him Maureen and Marlon. You’ll never know how much motherhood gave her a reborn purpose in life, especially after the bastard cheated on her.”

“I know I don’t deserve to ask some of these questions, but here we are.” Nick held up his arms as if to sweep the three of them, this coffee shop, this moment into a bundle. “Reborn from what?”

“Good god, man, Rachel was deeply in love with you. One minute you two are attached like Siamese twins, the next minute you are out of her life.” Lenny stifled a few sobs. "Everything spiraled with her after that summer."

“O.k., so that takes us back to my biggest shock. Rachel loved me? That really is news to me. And before you argue, please understand that I know she loved me as a friend, maybe even as a best friend. But that ultimate relationship, which I dreamed about daily for several years, seemed unlikely. She continually put me off. Or more accurately she put us off.”

“Why did Rachel tell my folks,” Lenny interrupted, “that last Spring you two were together that she expected a proposal?”

Nick fought back a tear. “My God, Lenny, I wish I knew. I would have proposed - as stupid as it might have been then. We already both knew the future would be a problem. I had the job in New York and she had already been accepted to grad school at Ohio State. The uncertainty of those different goals caused intense moments of us being very close and honest followed by her distancing herself from me.”

“You say that suggesting that you were guilt-free.”

“I don’t mean to imply that, but I was willing to broach the subject. She resisted.”

“You realize, don’t you, that Rachel never went to grad school, not that fall, not ever?”

Claire’s question seemed completely innocent, as if she expected Nick to absolutely know. He crushed the napkin in his hand while stammering through a response.  “Uh? What? That can’t be right?”

“It was, Nick,” Claire responded.

“Bullshit,” exclaimed Lenny, hitting the table with his fist. The coffees sloshed, with most of Lenny’s, capless, spilling onto table. “Fuck,” he uttered. The ladies with the prams suddenly stood up ready to go.

“Sorry about that, ladies,” said Claire turning to face them. “Just a friendly argument.” Turning back to Lenny, she spoke, “I really don’t think he knew, Lenny. I don’t think he is that good of an actor.”

“Honestly, I really didn’t know.” Nick started sobbing quietly.

“I’ll go get some more napkins,” Claire said, jumping up, "for both the table and for you, Nick.”

Lenny grumbled while Claire went to the front counter. The prams and mothers were heading out the front door, leaving them as the only customers again. Nick didn’t even care anymore. He was exhausted and not thinking clearly.

Claire came back, Nick thanking her for the napkins to dab at his eyes, Lenny still grumbling as he wiped off the table. Nick leaned back. “This explains a few things from my side, guys. I couldn’t bear to hear Rachel’s voice after I moved to New York, so I never called her. I planned to write her after she got settled in Columbus. I was going to wait until at least Thanksgiving to allow us both time to process, then write her offering her a peace treaty and hoping the best for her.”

“Peace treaty? Why?” Claire had grabbed Lenny’s coffee-sodden napkins and walked to the trashcan by the door, watching Nick and waiting for an answer.

“We had said some pretty nasty things about each other that last time we saw each other before I headed to New York.”

“What kind of nasty things?” grumbled Lenny.

“They don’t really matter now, do they? The thing is once I got to New York, I really got into my job, meeting a lot of people. I ended up with more of a social life than I expected. Thanksgiving and Christmas came and went without me writing Rachel. Finally, right after New Year’s, I decided to write her. Having no address, and still fearing the sound of her voice, I wrote to her care of the department of social sciences at Ohio State University. It came back as a ‘return to sender.’  I assumed she didn’t want the letter; I never thought that maybe she wasn’t even there.” Nick started to sob again, dabbing at his eyes with his napkin.

“Well, she didn’t go. She told everyone she was devastated by losing you and couldn’t face being a stranger in a strange land, so to speak.”

“Did it strike you as odd that she might have said ‘devastated’? Claire, you especially, knew of her personality when we were all out at bars or parties. Did you really think that I was the one holding her together? Especially with the jokes, the flirtations with other guys, the way she talked so optimistically about graduate school. This just doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t, Nick,” blared Lenny, “and the problem is that Rachel isn’t around to tell her side of the story anymore.”

“Lenny’s right, Nick, although the diaries do tell her side of the story. Those are of the instant.  How do you know that you are not seeing the past dimmed and distorted by your memories or at worst reconstructed memories?”

Nick finished his coffee and got up to throw it away. He saw Lenny flinch, but Claire grabbed his arm. Nick had no interest in fleeing anymore, although he was still vaguely aware that every minute he stayed here in the past made the present and the future a greater obstacle at home.

“I don’t even know if I really want to do this,” Nick hesitated as he came back to the table. “But, Claire do you think I could see those diaries? To try and make sense of what I missed at the time?”

“Probably not good, Nick. I have no idea if Rachel wanted you to see them and even in her death those are hers. She asked me to keep most of her keepsakes from her pre-marriage days, things she said she wasn’t sure Maureen and Marlon should see. I have them but don’t plan to do anything with them.”

“So what happened after she decided to not to go to Ohio State?”

“She had a rough few years, Nick. She worked at the Sears at the mall for a few years, but mostly drank herself silly in the evenings. When she was sober, she understood the cycle she was in, but the drinking seemed to help her escape her demons.”

Nick sniffled. “We both too often used alcohol as an escape. In some ways, New York helped me kick that habit.”

‘Well, Rachel never found her New York. So, let me confide one thing from her diaries, Nick, as it might help all of us, especially Lenny here who has taken Rachel’s sickness and death very hard.”

“I really am sorry, Lenny.”

Lenny grunted and stared absently at the front.

“In her diary, Claire says she wrote you for your birthday in 1990, a long letter bearing her heart to you. She too had no address and sent it care of the New York Jets at their corporate headquarters. It too was returned to sender. Did you never get it?

Nick sat stunned. Rachel had tried to reach out to him also, although several years later. “Uh, no, but I had taken a management job with the Nets in 1989.”

The three sat there in an uneasy silence. “Does her diary say what she specifically wrote?”

“No, Nick, in fact, after she noted the day it was returned, her diary is blank for several months.”

“So, this is around May 1990, Claire?” Lenny asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, she disappeared for a few weeks. She wouldn’t tell anyone where she was. She came back, started hitting AA meetings fairly religiously, met Reggie Mabry, and within six months had married him.”

“That last part corresponds with the diaries for the most part. Once she met Reggie, the diaries become much more mundane, or at least until Marlon was born. Then once Reggie started cheating on her, she returned to using the diary for much more of a confessional.”

“It sounds like you have read all through the diaries, Claire. Did you do that once Rachel passed?” Nick asked.

“No, about three weeks before she died, Rachel asked me to come visit her. At that time she gave me the diaries, begged me to read them, and to use them however I could to help preserve her past for the future. I just wasn’t supposed to share them with her kids. It was a rather strange request.”

The three sat again in their uneasy silence. Nick glanced at the front counter where the bored baristas were playing chess. “I’m not sure there is much more for us to discuss here. As I said back at the church, I really am very sorry to have ruined this day for both of you. I thought I could slip in, pay my respects for a woman who once meant everything to me, and then get home and leave that past behind me. I doubt the last part is possible anymore, but that’s my burden to bear.”

“If you don’t mind, Nick,” Claire said, cutting off Lenny who appeared ready to say something, probably fiery as his face was turning beet red again, “can I ask you one more question?  Lenny here might not be ready to forgive you and let you go, but I think I am.”

“Of course. I owe at least that to you. To Rachel.”

“You were sleeping with Rachel. I am no prude and certainly not naïve enough to think that sex only happens when two people are clearly in love; however, in this case, hearing what you said about her, wasn’t it even crueler than normal to literally leave her in bed as you deserted her?”

“What are you talking about Claire? We only slept together twice, and both times she later told me that she did it because she felt weak. Especially that last birthday of hers.”

Lenny slammed his fist on the table.  “Wait, are you telling me you slept me with sister again after she had told you the previous time had been a mistake? What kind of an asshole are you?”

“God, Lenny, it’s not that simple. I loved Rachel. Loved, loved, loved her. I was consumed by her every day. Maybe both times we went to bed were precipitated by alcohol, but the feelings seemed entirely mutual in the moment. If she had said, ‘no,’ I would have stopped.”

“Yeah, sure, you lying sack of shit.”

“Wait, Lenny, let’s not lose the narrative here. Rachel wrote in her diaries that the sex with you was wonderful.” Lenny faked a gag upon hearing Claire utter those words. Nick, on the other hand, felt dizzy.

“Really? I’m so confused.”

“Even if you thought she regretted the sex, you two still hung out all the time. I see nothing in this story that justifies you abandoning her.” Claire played with the cardboard sheath around her coffee.

Nick struggled knowing what to think, let alone what to say. Certainly that last summer, they did spend most days together, even if only the two nights seared in his memory. Then he remembered the image of blond Ben Steel, guitarist for The Trust, and that last 4^th of July when Rachel hurt him the most.

“Maybe the sex was part of the problem. What did her diary say about the sex with Ben Steel?”

“Huh?” Lenny looked puzzled.

“Ben?” asked Claire. “You mean that guitar player for the goofy local band in Chaddock.”

“Yes, that Ben! How many fucking Bens were in her life?”

“I’m not even sure he was in her life, Nick. She did love the band and did think Ben was particularly attractive, but then what girl didn’t find him attractive, especially when he wore those red leather pants.  But I doubt it went further. I was with her several times we saw The Trust.”

“Even that July 4^th?”

“That last summer?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, we had a pretty big fight a couple of days before that 4^th. I had promised my parents we would come home for the holiday, but she really wanted to go to Chaddock to see the band play. She seemed completely non-plussed by my disappointment and frustration. I tried calling her repeatedly that night and the next morning and never got her. I figured she stayed the night.”

“With Ben?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t know, Nick. She certainly never told me she had any one-night stands with Ben. And she mentions nothing about hooking up with him in the diaries.”

“It wasn’t just Ben. There were a few other musicians, even a damn poet or two. I’m not saying she was a slut, but I am certain she hooked up a few times. None of those are mentioned in the diary?”

“Nick, I am not going to tell you the dark secrets of Rachel’s dairy. I just want to make sure her voice as it spoke about you is still heard through this din of the past. I am confident she wants this broached before you disappear again.”

“Disappear again?” Nick sighed. “My god, I am worse than the local pariah.” He looked at his phone. “It’s getting pretty late and I have 6 hours of driving. Let’s leave it with me apologizing again for spoiling an important day for all of you in Rachel’s life.”

Lenny stood up to block Nick’s path to the door. “What about an apology to Rachel, dipshit?”

 “Let him go, Lenny,” Claire intervened. “We aren’t going to resolve anything here. If nothing else, we may have given Rachel’s spirit freedom to roam through Nick’s life. I do believe you loved her, Nick, but maybe the kind of immaturity most of us have at that age led to poor decisions. In the end, Rachel got over you, found a good man, at least for a little while, and kids.”

Lenny shifted to allow Nick a way to the door. “I suppose,” he mumbled, “but don’t show your face around here again, Nick. There are a few of us, Mom included, who don’t need any of this dredged up again.”

Nick thrust his hand at Lenny. “I understand, Lenny. I really do.” Lenny shook his hand forcibly, using his second arm to pull Nick’s arm so that they were face to face. Claire put hers out, Nick wrestled his hand free, shook hers and headed to the door.

In the car, Nick finally was able to take a deep breath. Looking through the Starbucks’ window, he could see Lenny and Claire still standing at the table like a frozen tableau. He wasn’t sure it was an image he would forget anytime soon. It would take him about ten minutes to get to the turnpike where he figured he could stop for some food and call Victoria. He had no idea what he would exactly say to her. Simon’s Graceland continued to play and his sobbing became unstoppable. As “Crazy Love, Vol. II” started, Nick swung into a strip mall parking lot, and jabbed his finger at the audio display to stop the music. He suddenly didn’t want to hear the lines that Rachel loved to tease him with:

“She says she knows about jokes./ This time the joke is on me./ Well, I have no opinion of that. /And I have no opinion about me.”

Nick pulled out a cigarette and tried to light it with a shaky hand. He closed his eyes, trying to remember those last few days with Rachel that July. They snipped at each other whenever they were together, which became shorter and shorter periods of time, and plans for a big farewell party fizzled from apathy. He remembered being stressed about his move, especially with pulling a small U-Haul behind his car. With his early morning start, he didn't even make a stop to see Rachel as he left. What might have been different if he had?

Nick stared upwards. Funny how even the most agnostic look to the heavens in moments of crisis. The past was collapsing all around him, and he feared he might suffocate.“Rachel, I am sorry. I don’t know how we lost our way, but I hope you found yours. Peace for eternity, Rach.”

Once he got onto the turnpike, Nicholas looked for the first rest area. After shoving down a couple of pieces of gas station pizza, Nick got back into his Fusion and started the engine. Before backing out of his spot, he grabbed his phone and called home. Victoria answered after four rings.

“Hey, hon, how did it go?” she asked out of breath. Nick pictured her racing to the phone from her art studio in the attic.

“Not bad. I did get stopped by some people and so I am getting a much later start home. I probably won’t get there until 1:00 or 1:30. Don’t wait up.”

“Everything alright? You sound weird.”

Nick hesitated. He knew he had to own up to the day, especially considering the strange culmination. His lengthy pause wasn’t helping.

“Nick, are you still there?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I just . . .”

“Look, Nick, if it helps, I am pretty sure you went to Rachel’s funeral. It’s no big deal. At least, I don’t think it is a big deal. Don’t make it so.”

Nick let out a pronounced breath of air. “How did you know?”

“Good God, Nick, you don’t know anybody back there anymore. You never talk about any old classmates or friends from college. And even though you stopped talking about Rachel about three months into our dating, I know you. I never doubted that something from your shared past still haunted you.”

“I guess you really do know me pretty well.”

“I do. Look, just get on the road and get home. We can talk in the morning. Don’t wake me up to help you shake off the old ghosts. It can wait ‘til morning.”

“O.k. honey. Thanks. Sorry I wasn’t up front about this trip.”

“Stop. I’ll make you pay later. You just need to get home.”

“Love you. See you later.” As Nick disengaged the call, he ended the playing of Graceland through his phone, selecting Chick Corea’s Expressions instead. As he pulled onto the turnpike, the opening of “Lush Life” came on. For now, there was nothing in his rear-view mirror.