Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 72156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Ashley, of course, was elected president of GDP, and the new class of freshmen were rushing.
We were all busy, and Ashley was a commander to end all commanders. She took no prisoners.
But once, when I had to cram for an exam that I hadn’t had time to prepare for, she let me out of my sorority duties.
Yeah.
That was it.
The only time Ashley did anything for me out of the goodness of her heart.
Then a lightbulb flashes in my brain—something else Ashley did for me, though it had nothing to do with the goodness of her heart.
She bullied me into talking to Falcon at ladies’ night. If she hadn’t, I’d still have met him the next day at work. And if Ashley hadn’t crashed into Michael Barrett’s car, I’d have never seen Falcon again. He’d be Michael Barrett’s parolee.
So many variables.
The priest takes his place at the lectern and says a few words about Ashley. Then a soloist sings. After that, the eulogy, given by none other than Jordan. Who else? Mr. and Mrs. Hunt couldn’t possibly do it. They’re probably still beside themselves.
I’m amazed Jordan does it, as Ashley was her BFF. It would make more sense for Gert to do it, but she’s nearly as upset as Jordy is about the whole thing.
Jordan takes her place behind the podium, adjusts the microphone.
She clears her throat. “Thank you all for coming,” she says. “I met Ashley freshman year. We were assigned each other’s roommates, but we also became close friends. It’s not everyone who can say that about their freshman roommate.” She pauses as a few light chuckles reverberate through the church. “Ashley and I were lucky, as were our friends Gert and Savannah, who were also freshmen roommates who stayed close and became good friends.
“Ashley and I roomed together the whole four years of college, and then we got an apartment together. We were besties until…” She sniffles. “Well, until Ashley passed away.
“She deserved better. And…” Jordan sniffles again, wipes her eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t go on.”
The priest takes over. “That’s okay, Jordan. We all know how you’re feeling. Let’s all bow our heads in prayer.”
I lower my head as the priest’s words go in one ear and out the other.
That’s got to be the shortest eulogy ever.
And I’ve been to a lot of funerals, I’m sorry to say.
Gert finds me after the service. “There you are. Poor Jordan. She totally flubbed the eulogy. She had several pages written.”
“She said all she could,” I say. “It’s not like Ashley was here to hear it anyway.”
Gert smiles weakly. “I know, but I can’t believe Jordan said she’d do it. First, she hates speaking in front of an audience, and second, Ashley was her total bestie, and third, Jordan cries during television commercials with puppies and kittens in them. Whatever made her think she could pull off a eulogy for her bestie?”
I simply shrug. What am I supposed to say to that?
“I can’t believe the Hunts asked her either,” Gert continues.
“Neither of them could do it,” I say. “They’re way too…you know.”
Gert sighs. “I know. For sure. But couldn’t they have found a cousin or something? Or a friend who wasn’t as close to her?”
“I suppose they could have asked you.”
“Oh, God!” Jordan slides her hands over her cheeks. “That would have been awful.”
“See? Who else could they have asked?”
We reach my car and I click my key fob, unlocking it. “I guess I’ll see you at the Hunts’ house.”
“I told Jordan I’d drive with you,” she says. “She’s still in the bathroom trying to compose herself.”
“Oh?” I glance back at the church. “We really shouldn’t leave her here.”
“She told me to go ahead. I think she needs time alone.”
“All right. If you say so.”
I unlock my car and Gert slides into the passenger seat while I take the wheel.
Fifteen minutes later, we reach the Hunts’ posh home. Cars line the streets. It was a full house in the church, so it will be a full house here. I park a block away and Gert and I walk to the house.
Mr. and Mrs. Hunt didn’t have a receiving line at the church. Who can blame them? Now, at the house, they’re sitting down in the living room as people come by to offer their condolences before they nosh on the elaborate spread.
This is all so wrong.
Yet it’s so much like every other wake I’ve attended.
And like I said…I’ve attended a lot of them.
One in particular that I never let myself think about.
I follow Gert to the line of people waiting to talk to the Hunts. I feel like I shouldn’t be here. Just like I felt at the hospital.
Ashley and I were ancillary friends.
She didn’t like me much, and she made it clear.
I didn’t like her much, but I never made it clear. Or I tried not to. I always tried to do the right thing.