Page 37 of Walk on the Wilde Side
"That's what literally means, Kiki. And it's easy for me to remember because you said it at least three times."
"Well, I was wrong. There. Satisfied?"
I shrug. "A little. Anyhow, it's done. It's in the past." Right as I say it my phone buzzes. I pull it from my pocket.
Babe, let's talk tomorrow. We were both tired and grumpy.
Dane always ends his texts with a heart emoji. The overuse has made it meaningless.
"Well, it will be in the past soon," I say.
"Is that him?"
I push my phone back into my pocket. "Yeah, but I'll let him know tomorrow that this isn't going anywhere. I'm heading to bed."
"No dinner?"
"Nothing sounds good at this hour except greasy popcorn, and I know I'll regret eating that, so nope, going to bed without supper. It's my punishment for being stupid when it comes to men."
Kinsley laughs as I walk away. "Maybe we can start the Stupid Society of Women Who Can't Choose Men. Never mind. The name's too long."
I walk into my room and change into my favorite pajamas. They're silky and oversized and covered with smiling sheep. Who needs a man when you can go to bed draped in smiling sheep?
The wooden box filled with mementos is visible under the bed. I reach down and pull it out. I open the lid and stare into the clutter of valueless trinkets. I fumble around for the thin plastic baggie and pull it out. The three stalks of dried lavender have kept their shape, although I'm sure the smell is long gone. I open it and take a whiff. The slightest fragrance wafts up from the bag, but it's not flowery perfume. It's the smell of sadness.
Then
"Another casserole," Kinsley says as she closes the front door. "I don't know why so many people are trying to feed us."
"It's just what people do when someone dies." Nana's cuckoo clock strikes fifteen past the hour. "We better head over to the park."
Nana wanted a graveside service. "Simple and to the point. The point being that I'm dead," she said. The doctor warned us that her heart was giving out fast, but Kinsley and I refused to believe it. She was full of life right up to the day when she got in bed for the last time. We knew our one true parent was much older than our friends' parents, but it was too hard to ever think about losing her. She managed to stay long enough for both of us to reach adulthood and for that we were both thankful, but the void left behind by her loss was immeasurable to us and to the entire town of Rockhurst.
While we were making arrangements, Nana's simple and to the point funeral grew too large for the town cemetery. It became clear that most of the town planned on saying farewell to her, so we got a permit to have a nice ceremony in the park near the cemetery.
Kinsley and I hold hands as we walk down the sidewalk to the park. Cars are already lined up along the quiet street. Up ahead people are walking toward the park, wearing black and somber gray and, like us, holding hands with their family members. Kinsley's grip on my hand tightens as we get closer to the park. Several tables have been set up. One to collect flowers and cards and one to provide refreshments. It was one of Nana's requests. She was always the hostess.
Some of her friends, Marybel and Connie, her knitting circle and coffee chat friends, are handing out single yellow roses, Nana's favorite. Someone has painted a banner that says, "You're forever in our hearts, El Honey." It's stretched between two shade trees. Our friends and the kids we grew up with, and even some of the generations after us, called Nana El Honey, short for Ellen Honeysett. It was a fitting nickname.
Kinsley tugs my hand to stop us before crossing over to the park. Her eyes are wet with tears again. The two of us have been trading off being the stronger sister while the other one has a meltdown. It's worked well, only I'm starting to crumble right along with her this time because it's becoming all too clear that Nana is gone forever. Kinsley takes a deep breath and nods to let me know we can continue.
The first few minutes are hard. Kinsley and I are overwhelmed by well-wishers. We're showered with hugs and tears and small anecdotes of something special Nana did or said to someone. Kinsley looks ruffled by it all, so I step in, like always, as the big sister, even though at the moment I wish I had a big sister to step in for me. Then, in the midst of the hurricane of well-wishing, the crowd grows eerily silent. Everyone's focus is pulled to the north corner of the park.
I hug my last well-wisher and pull back to see what has gotten everyone's attention. The collective hush only showcases their arrival more. The Wilde boys are always a sight to see, but all six of them dressed in dark suits and ties, led by none other than their infamous father, Finnegan Wilde, is a sight that none of us will ever forget. And their expressions show true grief, even Finn. Nana had many scuffles with Finn, mostly because he was such an inconsistent, untrustworthy father. She was never afraid of him, and that courage earned his respect. Nana was the one person who could let Finnegan Wilde know her opinion, and he'd take it to heart.
I don't realize I'm avoiding looking at one Wilde in particular until I finally allow my gaze to land on him. My throat tightens so much I can't swallow. Zander looks as if someone has sucked the life from him. His normally broad shoulders are hunched, and his head hangs down as if someone is pushing it from behind.
Kinsley discreetly takes hold of my hand. "I heard rumor they were coming, but I wasn't expecting all of them. Oh my god, Nev," she whispers. "Zander."
I nod and still find that swallowing is impossible. Nana came to all the boys' rescue at one time or another, whether it was first aid or help with homework, but Zander was her favorite. He spent a lot of time at our house, either hiding from his dad or healing or looking for shelter after his dad kicked him out. They had a special bond, and if Nana ever had any doubts about whether her special attention to Zander meant anything to him, it's clear as day in his expression and the way he's carrying himself.
Finnegan is holding a bouquet of yellow roses. It's strange to see such a volatile, unpredictable and occasionally dangerous man holding a cluster of flowers. The other mourners part as if Moses is walking through the Red Sea. Finn stops at the framed photo of Nana. A few words leave his mouth, but they're for Nana's ears only.
Kinsley and I make our way over to the brothers. We all grew up together, and we're all still friends. I know Kinsley is missing her best friend, Indi, but she's working for a high-powered talent agent who wouldn't give her the time off for a funeral. I tried to convince Kinsley that she would have come otherwise, but my sister is hurt by her absence nonetheless.
Jameson is the first to step forward and give us both hugs. "Nev," he says. "This town won't be the same without her."
I nod and fight back tears. The other brothers line up for hugs. Nate knew her the least, mostly because he had more support from his real mother, Stevie, but even he is shaken to the core. I save Zander for last because I'm not sure I'll be able to hold myself together when I come face-to-face with him.
