Pieces of a Life

Everyone at the wake was wearing black. Leila knew they’d wear black, and she knew their mourning and pain over George’s death went just about as deep as the black clothes on their bodies. There were men wearing big shiny watches that jumped around on their wrists to get your attention, women with giant chandeliers of earrings swinging from their earlobes. People in their blacks just dying to make themselves look as rich as possible, trying so hard to make the next guy feel inferior. What would that accomplish? Maybe they convinced themselves that the wealthier they looked, the closer they had been to George. And therefore the bigger piece of estate they’d get. Leila sipped champagne, wearing a bright floral dress. They’d noticed her now, and from the looks on the faces she’d seen, they knew who she was. That girl, that skinny girl in the flowery dress that wasn’t black, that was Leila Willows. That was George’s daughter. They looked at her and didn’t bother to hide their disgust. She hid a smile in the lip of her champagne flute and sipped.

Oh yes, they’d be mad. They’d be beyond mad that she was back. They had worked so hard to be at the front of the line when George died and then she came back out of nowhere, no shiny watch, no sparkling earrings, no big whipped cream updo and even no black. When she’d arrived at the wake she ignored the people she walked past, her mission being to say goodbye to her father. She stood for a long time at the open casket, staring at the man in the dapper suit who lay there silently. His hair had greyed more since she’d last seen him, but his face was still the same. It was hardly wrinkled, and she admired him for that. He led such a high stress life, but stood so strong. Finally, she gave him a peck on the cheek, red lipstick marks stuck to his face. She smiled and didn’t wipe the lipstick off, knowing her father would’ve found it funny and her other relatives or “family friends” would just be pissed off that someone would be so tacky. That would be her goodbye to him, and it would stay with him forever now. She patted her father’s folded hands, still wearing his wedding ring after all these years alone, and swallowed a knot in her throat.

Alex had gone to George’s wake alone. His parents had said they weren’t going, because they would feel uncomfortable. He understood that. Most of the people who went to the wake were just going to keep up appearances in hopes of getting a chunk of the Willows fortune. He wasn’t interested in the Willows fortune or the greedy animals disguised in designer blacks that flocked to the wake. If he knew George at all, and he knew him pretty well, he would put them in their place. The man was one of the richest men in the country, it wasn’t like he was an idiot. He knew their agendas. So Alex put on a suit and went to the wake to pay his respects.

“Whoever put this together must’ve been an asshole.” He mumbled to Rian, who held in a laugh. There was no way George would’ve approved. The funeral parlor was about as fancy as the Willows’ house, which was pretty fucking fancy, and there was no real food: just hors d’oeurves and delicate flutes of champagne each with two raspberries in the glasses. Whoever planned the wake was another person trying to keep up appearances and flaunt their money. “Seriously, what is this? Not food, I can tell you that.” He scoffed at a tiny cracker with some kind of spread on it that looked more like a sculpture meant to resemble food than something you could actually eat.

Leila hadn’t noticed Alex or Rian, at least not yet. She was standing by herself, of course, absent-mindedly resting the top of her glass against her lips. If anyone had yet to recognize her she was making it easy for them; she found herself standing in third position anytime she was standing still. It was a habit after all her years of dancing, but it was also a dead giveaway of her identity. Even someone who had no idea about dancing or ballet or the positioning of your feet, even someone who hadn’t recognized Leila by looking at her, they would know instantly it was her by the way she stood. It wasn’t a normal, comfortable way for anyone else to stand. It just looked strange. It looked like a dancer standing around with nothing to do. And Leila’s habit of standing in ballet positions is what gave her away to Rian.

He was standing quietly with Alex, scanning the room and feeling more than a little uncomfortable with the crowd of people in it, and the girl in the bright floral dress blatantly stuck out in the cloud of black. Like she’d wanted to stick out. She was standing with her feet in some weird position, not a normal way to stand for anyone else but it seemed comfortable enough for her. It looked, to him, like the way a dancer would stand. A little alert perked up in his head and he knew. Rian looked at her face curiously and Leila, who had also been absently scanning the room, locked eyes with him. Rian recognized her instantly of course, but didn’t do anything. He knew her well enough to know she’d go into panic mode at seeing someone she was close to. He just gave her deer-in-headlights face a small smile and looked away.

Leila had frozen in her place, staring across the room with wide eyes. He looked so much different than he had looked when she’d left. His hair was so much shorter, there was a hint of a beard on his face, and he was much more muscular. He was…he was handsome, which was weird for her to think. Before, he’d just been sweet, goofy Rian. He’d been her lifeline in math classes and gave her hugs in the hallways. He’d changed so much, at least in appearance, but maybe she had too. She blinked and that was all it took to trigger a panic in her brain.

Rian was here. Of course he’d be here. And that meant…shit, that meant Zack might be here, and then more than likely Jack—and Jack being here meant Evelyn was here—shit! And...and he was here. There was no “probably” about it—he would be here and she was not ready for that. She looked away quickly, panicked, and just made herself face the opposite direction. It was pathetic, but she didn’t know what else to do. She was not in a coping state at the moment. With her hand shaking, she tossed back the rest of her champagne.

Rian didn’t say anything to Alex about seeing Leila. When the time was right, they’d see each other, he thought. They had been so close it wasn’t his place to force them back together. They’d do it on their own. So he stayed casual, looking around the room with disinterest. Leila had turned around and he had to make an effort not to chuckle—what a typical Leila move.

“Rian,” Alex elbowed him sharply and Rian huffed, annoyed. “Dude, look at that girl!” Rian just rolled his eyes. Of course Alex would be looking at girls at a time like this. “Rian, if you don’t humor me I will be forced to make an announcement that you’re a transsexual.”

Rian looked at him, annoyed but playing along. “Okay, what, Alex?” Alex grinned, perpetually a flirty teenage boy no matter how old he got.

“I’m gonna talk to her,” He said proudly, gesturing to the girl he’d seen. She was facing away from them in a bright floral dress with the back cut out. Rian gaped. Of all the girls in the room, it had to be her. Imagine what he’d say now if Rian told him who she was.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He said hurriedly, looking at Alex, who frowned back. He didn't give him the chance to ask why not. “You really want to pick up a girl at a funeral? Come on, man. That’s...that’s kind of tacky, don’t you think? You think she’d really be interested in a guy who hit on her at a funeral?” He mentally gave himself a point for a convincing argument. He almost wished Leila knew so she could appreciate what he just saved her from. Alex sighed, pouting.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He mumbled. He looked at the girl again. “But if we were anywhere else, I'd be on that.” Rian shook his head. It would be hilarious if Alex knew who he was really talking about. But he couldn't tell him.

“Sure, dude.” He agreed simply. Across the room, Leila glanced over her shoulder. It was her luck Alex had stopped looking by now.