Casie Bazay - Not Our Summer

WHERE DOES SOMEONE EVEN GET A BRIGHT GREEN casket like that?

The question hasnt stopped rattling through my brain since Mom and I snuck into the chapel and slid into the very last pew. There are a lot more important things to be worried about at the moment, but all I can think is, What. The. Hell? Grandpa was a weird duckeveryone knew thatbut I definitely never saw this coming. The wood creaks as Mom shifts in her seat and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear for the hundredth time. Its a nervous tic of hers, but I get it. Being here is beyond awkward for both of us.

Two rows ahead, an old lady with painted-on eyebrows turns to squint at us. Shes probably trying to figure out why were sitting in the back of the chapel instead of up front with the rest of our family. Maybe she doesnt know the story. Or maybe she does and thinks my grandpas death is reason enough to move past it, but fact is, the rift in my family has held strong for practically two decades nowsince before my birth, anyway. Things wont be changing anytime soon. I give her a whatcha gonna do old lady look, and she turns back around.

Another hymn begins, and along with it, a chorus of off-key voices. Mom and I keep our mouths clamped shutnot that we know the words anyway. I stare at my shoes, questioning if gray Converse and black jeans were the wrong choice for today. Its not like I own anything nicer, and my closet has definitely never seen a dress.

Mom leans in close, her breath reeking of strong coffee. As soon as they start lining up for the walk-by, were out of here.

I give a subtle nod. I have no desire to see my grandpa inside that grasshopper-green death box. Id rather remember him the way he was. Well, the way he was the last time I saw him, anyway. Was it really three years ago?

The music fades, soon replaced by the sounds of sniffling and Great Aunt Veldas babbling. Its really sad and all, but I have bigger worries at the moment. Right now, I just want to pay my respects and get out of here without my witchy Aunt RaeLynn or my equally horrid cousin Becka trying to start something with me and my mom. Thats about the only thing that would make today worse than its already been.

The reverend steps to the front again, and it takes everything Ive got to pry my eyes away from the casket and focus on him.

Elijah Walker was a unique man, he says with the air of someone who knew my grandpa well. I doubt they ever met. Hes just repeating what someone else has told him. RaeLynn, if I had to guess. He had a special appreciation for insects and spent countless hours on his collections. They were a sight to behold, from what I hear.

Yep, that confirms my suspicion. If hed met my grandpa, then he definitely would have seen the bug collections. The reverend continues, telling a story from Grandpas childhood. Elijah got a pony for Christmas one year. He named her Penny, and she stayed at his grandparents farm. He rode Penny every time he went to visit his grandparents.

Ive never heard this story before, but then again, theres probably a lot I dont know about Grandpa. Of course, theres no mention of his conditionthe one that kept him homebound for the past thirty years. He rarely ever left his eleven-acre property.

I glance at Mom, whos staring straight ahead, her poker face still on. Theres no telling whats going through her brain right now. Maybe shes thinking about all the holidays we didnt spend with Grandpa. We should have gone around more. What happened with Mom and RaeLynn wasnt his fault. He just got caught in the middle of it all.

The reverend leads us in prayer and a final hymn begins. Moms bony elbow pushes into my side. Lets go, she whispers, and before I know it, shes practically dragging me out of the chapel and into the brightly lit foyer. A lady in a black pantsuit gives us a sympathetic smile. She probably thinks things were getting too difficult to deal with in there. Shed be right, but it has nothing to do with my grandpa.

Mom and I bolt to the parking lot and both sigh with relief once we reach the car. Thank god thats over, she says, voicing my exact thoughts.

We made it and we didnt have to talk to a single person in there.

Its early May but blazing hot inside Moms 98 Cutlass Sierra. The heat always brings out the nasty smell in here, too. Like old bologna. Mom swears there must be a piece crammed into some crevice weve yet to find. She puts the key in the ignition and turns it, but the car only makes a pathetic whining sound.

Damn it! She pounds her palm on the top of the steering wheel and tries the engine again. It clicks this time. Damn, damn, damn. Her words match the beat of the annoying sound. Why do you have to do this to me now?

I dont mention the fact that her car tends to crap out every other month or so. She needs a new battery but wont fork out the money for one. Do you have the jumper cables? I ask instead.

She grumbles under her breath and fixes me with an annoyed look. Who are we gonna ask to jump it, huh? Our family hates us, and its not like we know any of these other people.

I stare toward the chapel, a bead of sweat now trickling down one side of my face. The rotten bologna smell has settled inside my nostrils, more irritating than puke-worthy now. You can get used to anything if youre around it long enough. Howd Grandpa know all these people anyway? He never went anywhere.

Mom grasps the steering wheel with both hands, staring straight ahead. Who knows? I think some of them might be old coworkers or students from the university. She shakes her head. Maybe some other bug people, too.

The heat is really getting to me now, so I reach for my handle and shove the door open before I suffocate. A few funeral-goers stand outside the double doors, their voices carrying on the light breeze. I swipe the sweat away from my cheek with the back of my hand. What about Digger? I nod toward the middle-aged bearded guy standing outside the chapel entrance, lighting up a cigarette.

Mom huffs and opens her own door. Looks like hes our only option.

Ten minutes later, Diggers white van is pulled up onto the grass beside us, and hes hooking up the jumper cables.