Chapter Text
I thought I was done going to funerals when Roger died. My mom told me funerals were a part of life. I wish she was here to say that to me now.
But she’s not.
Instead, her ashes are in a vase sitting on a table at the front of the room. They're right next to the vase with Dad's ashes. I don’t know why they put them in vases. Vases are for flowers.
I’d much rather flowers be in there. Maybe some pretty roses or daffodils. Violets?
Mom also told me that it doesn’t always rain when there’s a funeral because then it would never stop. But it’s raining now. It’s been raining all day. Maybe it only rains for the extra sad funerals, like the ones for little kid’s parents.
Everyone hugs me and tells me that I’m brave. Everyone tells me that I’m strong. That’s what Paschar said. That I’m strong.
But I don’t feel strong. All I feel is sad. All I feel is wanting to run up there and hug the ash vases to my chest. I don’t want to be strong. I just want my mom and dad back.
After the preacher says all the words (the oology), they take the vases away, and I don’t even get a chance to say goodbye. I couldn’t even understand most of what he said, which isn’t fair because it’s my parents he said it for. The lady with dry, black hair who smells like cigarettes, the one who’s been sitting next to me this whole time, gets up and takes my hand. She’s my social worker. Her name’s Debrah, but she told me to call her Mrs. Corvin. She’s nice enough to me, but she looks kind of like an ugly bird. I’m not sure what she does, but she took me to get McDonald’s before the funeral.
"Your husband is going to get into a car crash," I told her.
"That’s nice."
I know she didn’t believe me. No one ever seems to. She wasn’t even listening.
No one would take me. Not my Uncle George and Aunt Harriet, even though their daughter got hit by a boat, and their house is probably really lonely. They still didn’t want me. No one did.
No one wanted a little girl who could see things before they happened and had dead parents. That made me a “warn of the state.” I don’t know why I have to warn the state about anything, but I don’t really care. I follow her out to her big grey car.
I fidget my fingers. I usually have Paschar to hold onto, but not since I got rid of him. I would rub on his little suit sleeves or move his little arms back and forth. Mrs. Corvin had bought me a plastic dragon to hold, but when it started talking to me in Paschar’s voice, I stomped it into pieces. My hands are lonely now. They have each other, but they miss having something to hold. I wonder if they’ll ever have anything to hold again.
Mrs. Corvin opens the door for me. There’s a small bag in the back of the car with the new clothes she bought for me in them. They don’t have any pretty colors like my clothes at home did. They’re gloomy dark colors. That's how I feel right now, though— gloomy and dark.
I get in the back seat, and then Mrs. Corvin starts to drive. It’s quiet at first. Then after a few minutes, she starts talking to me. I don’t want her to. I know she isn’t going to say anything I’ll like, but she does anyway.
"So Lily, it’s time we got you settled. I’m going to take you to where you’ll be staying for a while."
"Where?" I ask her. None of my family wants me, so where is she taking me now?
"It’s a group home. You’ll stay with other kids like you."
Kids whose parents are dead, she means. Kids who nobody wants, she means.
"It’s in a place called Limekiln. That’s in Louisiana, so it’s a bit of a drive. They should have a room set up for you when we get there."
I know where Louisiana is. I always heard about hurricanes there on the news. The way my luck was going, I’d probably get swept up in a hurricane. I’d fly all the way to Australia, and one of those giant spiders they have there would eat me. Or I’d get all stomped up by a kangaroo with huge kangaroo feet.
"Why do I have to go somewhere else?"
"I figured a change of scenery is what you need the most— a new start. It’s a lovely place, I assure you."
When grown-ups have to “assure you” of things, they’re usually lying. What Mrs. Corvin’s saying isn't any different.
I want to tell her no, that I want to go home. If I say what’s really on my mind, I’d probably have to fill up the swear jar to the tippy top.
But I don’t. Instead, I say "okay" and sit quietly in the back as the raindrops race each other down the windows.
She’s right. It is a bit of a drive. In fact, it’s a lot more than just a bit of a drive. I don’t know why adults use little words to describe big things like that. Like when my dad used to say we would be a little late to somewhere, and then we were thirty minutes late. I mean, that’s not a little.
I don’t like sleeping in cars because cars really aren’t comfy places to sleep. The seatbelt always digs into your chest, and there’s no good place to put your head.
We stop at McDonald’s again, so I’m not too mad about having to sleep in the car.
I think I don’t have much of an appetite, but it turns out crying makes you really hungry. Eating makes me feel a little bit sleepy, though, and it’s starting to get late, so I know I should try to rest, even if I have nightmares.
I close my eyes and try to get into a decent enough position to fall asleep. I focus on counting sheep and trying not to let the mean thoughts creep in.
One sheep…
You killed your parents.
Two sheeps...
You killed your best friend.
Th...three sheeps…
The angels are never going to leave you alone.
I open my eyes and sniffle. This isn’t working.
"Hey, Mrs. Corvin?"
She’s sitting in the front seat, sipping a cup of coffee.
I look out the window and see that we’re driving past lots of dark, thick trees. I can’t see very far into them.
I turn my head away from the window. It’s dark out now, and seeing the forest makes me think of all the monsters that live there in fairy tales. The kind of monsters that try to eat little girls.
"Yes, Lily?"
"Can you turn on some music? Like, something soft."
She looks back at me for a moment. I see that look grown-ups get when something bad happens to someone else. Pity, that’s what Paschar called it.
"Of course, honey."
With the radio playing, I’m able to keep my brain quiet. When I open my eyes, I’m not in the car anymore. I’m standing in a parking lot. It’s dusty and smells terrible.
I walk forward, and I smell gas. My parents always hated the smell of gas, but I think it smells kind of nice.
Little buggies fly around the big light above the gas pumps. It’s a gas station. Did we stop for gas?
I don’t see the car or Mrs. Corvin. I’m alone. Well, I’m not totally alone. But there’s no one I know with me.
A man is standing on the curb of the small convenience store. He looks younger than my dad but older than Roger was when he died. He seems closer to Roger than my dad, though. His face is familiar. It feels like I've seen him in the background somewhere before.
He’s just standing there, holding a broom and looking out, directly at me. I don’t know why he’s holding the broom. He’s not sweeping.
I don’t wanna seem like a scaredy-cat, and I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.
"Take a picture! It lasts longer!" I shout at him.
Roger said that to me one time when we were driving to Florida. I did one of those things where you forget where you’re looking because you’re thinking too hard, and after he said it, my dad told him to stop being a smartbutt, only he didn't say butt. He said a different word.
"Is someone out there?" He calls out.
"Yes! Me! I’m Lily Madwhip! Who are you?"
He squints his eyes. He’s tall and skinny. His hair is a mess, and he looks like he just got out of bed. He reminds me of a sleepy monkey. One that hasn’t had enough fruit to eat. Monkeys don't just eat bananas. They eat all kinds of fruit like apples, oranges, and even pears! I learned that at the zoo.
I’m not sure if the sleepy monkey man can hear me.
"You know, we have a no loitering policy."
What does loitering mean? I think.
His face changes, and he looks like he’s seen a ghost. Meredith told me that’s what you say when someone gets really scared. I’ve seen ghosts before, and I think they’re pretty scary, so that’s a good thing to say.
Meredith…
"Loitering is when you hang around somewhere for no reason. God, I really should take my medicine, shouldn’t I?”
I wonder what kind of medicine he takes. He doesn’t look very sick to me, just sleepy. Maybe it’s brain medicine. I think my parents tried to get me to take brain medicine. When I was in the Veil, my dad would always remind me to take my pills, but I wasn’t sick.
I’d go back in if it meant I could see him again…
He squints hard at the darkness, looking right through me.
And then he turns around and goes back inside. Everything gets really dark, and then I’m back in the car again. I must’ve woken up pretty hard because Mrs. Corvin looks back at me.
The sun is rising. I wish I felt as nice and warm as the sun does, but I don’t. I feel cold and sad, and now I feel confused. Who was that sleepy man? What was he doing in my dream?
"You okay back there, kid?"
"Yeah, just a weird dream."
"We’ll be there soon. Would you like Wendy’s for breakfast?"
I give her a thumbs up. My tummy feels weird, but I can’t pass up Wendy’s.