The Grooming of Alice
“Pamela had said she’d go with me, but changed her mind at the last minute. She doesn’t like funerals, she said.
“Pamela, nobody goes because they enjoy it,” I told her. “You go because it’s your last chance to say good-bye.”
“If I said it, she wouldn’t hear me,” Pamela said. “I hate funerals. I don’t need anything else depressing in my life right now.”
That much was true. But all week I’d felt this huge sadness. It was hard to explain. Not even Patrick understood. He wasn’t going to the funeral, either, because of his drum lesson.
“She was a good teacher, but it’s not like she was a relative or anything,” he’d told me.
“To me, she was,” I’d said, and immediately clouded up.
Dad didn’t try to analyze it. He waited till I’d stuffed Kleenex in all my pockets, and then we drove to the Methodist Church for the memorial service.
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