New Girl - By Paige Harbison Page 0,101

just something about her. She would have loved having you all here. Everyone coming here today is a really great way to honor her.” He looked down at the podium, seeing something beyond it. “I will never forget Becca. I know that much. I will never, ever forget her.”

He stepped down, and stopped in front of her parents. He shook Mr. Normandy’s hand and leaned down to kiss Mrs. Normandy on the cheek. She took and held on to his hand for a moment and then she rose, and he patiently remained standing there until she let him go with a pat.

She was next. I hadn’t seen her face yet, and was surprised to see that it was not puffy or red. It was stone-cold as she walked to the podium.

“I want to thank all of you for coming today. It means a great deal to our family.”

And then she stepped down, and back into her seat. What? Blake, who was sitting a few rows in front of me, looked back at me. I shook my head, baffled. That was her mother. That was all she had to say?

I thought for a moment maybe her husband would step up and speak for both of them, but no. It came to a close. Becca and her coffin would be flown back to her home in Chicago for the burial at the family plot.

Everyone poured out of the chapel, and I veered off up some stairs. I felt strange, and a little overcome. I needed to break away. I didn’t want to stand outside with everyone or mingle, or feel how I was feeling in front of anyone else. They would think I was assuming their grief as my own, and I didn’t want that. There was a bathroom at the top of the stairs, and I ran in.

I leaned against the wall, not entering one of the three stalls, and felt the cold tiles through my dress. I shut my eyes and breathed. So much had changed for me. So much had happened. And I couldn’t even think about any of it without feeling blasphemous and selfish.

A moment later, I jumped as the door opened. It was Becca’s mother. Her face had changed. She still wasn’t crying, but I could see something like desperation in her eyes. It reminded me of when Max had taken me down to the beach and had looked so hollowed.

“Oh,” she said, surprised to see me, too.

I couldn’t think of anything to say, and leaving immediately would seem rude. She stood in front of one of the mirrors and tried to stand up straight. A few seconds later, she had collapsed onto the floor into tears.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know her. I didn’t know Becca. I didn’t know how to soothe someone even, not for something like this. So I just did what I felt compelled to do. I knelt down next to her, and put a hand on her shoulder. She leaned almost imperceptibly toward me and laid a hand over mine.

Neither of us said a word for a few minutes. I didn’t ask if she was okay, because what a useless question that was. She wasn’t okay. I could see that. I didn’t ask if there was anything I should do. I knew I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t ask if she wanted to talk. If she wanted to, she would.

When her sobbing subsided, she patted my hand as she had Max’s, and took a deep breath. She whispered an apology, and I shook my head.

“Don’t apologize.”

“Were you one of her Manderley girls?”

“I— No. I just transferred this past year. I never knew her.”

She nodded slowly. “Heard of her, no doubt.”

“Yes, I’ve heard a lot. Everyone talks about her all the time. She really made an impact.”

She raised her eyebrows knowingly. “Oh, I’m sure she did.”

“I had to come to the funeral. I know I didn’t know her personally, but…I don’t know, it sort of felt like I did.” My honesty flowed out of me before I could stop it. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Normandy stared at her slightly aging hands. “I don’t know what to do with Becca gone.”

I didn’t know what to say.

She shook her head and went on. “I don’t know why I feel that way. She hated me. She wouldn’t let anyone near her. I’m so…I’m so mad at her for that. Why couldn’t she just let me know her?” Her tears began anew.