Caught Inside

Chapter Thirty-Nine

"Repent, therefore, and turn back, that your sins may be blotted out, that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord." – Acts 3:19-20

It seemed fitting that the rain continued to pour down all night and into the following morning. When Cole shut the door of his Volkswagen, straightened up, and turned in the direction of the church, he looked skyward and saw the gloomy clouds overhead as a reflection of his spirits. Blaine and Mr. Anderson, meanwhile, were hurrying under the shelter of a large umbrella, but Cole remained with his head tilted upwards, hands shoved in his pockets, letting the rain patter around him.

Was it strange, Cole asked himself, that he didn't feel any different than last night? Or yesterday? Or last week? He thought going to Taylor's funeral would stir up all sorts of emotions within him, but apparently the opposite had occurred: Cole felt as if his emotions were being sucked dry.

He gave one more languid look at the sky before shuffling after his father and Blaine. When they entered the yawning archway of the old church, a cool blast of air swept Cole's curls to one side of his face, and he involuntarily shivered. Who turned on A/C when it was raining outside, anyways?

Once his eyes were adjusted to the gloomy darkness, Cole saw that nearly every seat in the small interior of the church was filled. He recognized quite a few classmates from school, though some of Taylor's closest friends—and Cole's old acquaintances—were missing.

The few windows positioned near the top of the church were stained glass, and therefore did not let in much light. The flickering bulbs that illuminated the rest of the room were faint, resembling small candles. All in all, Cole thought dryly, it was the perfect atmosphere for a funeral.

He took a seat next to his father, a little annoyed that Mr. Anderson had sat down the far end of the very first pew. Weren't the first few rows reserved for immediate family?

He turned around slightly to survey the crowd. No; the gang was sitting right behind him, and their classmates were just a few rows beyond. Apparently any immediate family that had come was scarce or scattered throughout the room.

Cole felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Jake, and he murmured something that sounded like a mixture between a hello and an apology. But the arrival of the pastor in front of the pulpit cut his words short. Cole was glad; he wasn't really in the talking mood. Plus, he could almost feel the stares from Alana, Maya, and Koa boring into the back of his neck from where they were sitting behind him.

The first drop of emotion flooded his senses. What am I even doing here? he thought. He suddenly wished he could get away. The events of the past few weeks trickled towards the forefront of his mind, reminding him of his colossal failure, mocking him for his cowardliness. He swallowed. Now was not the time to get emotional. He was here because he felt obligated, not because he felt any special ties to Taylor.

But as the pastor began speaking, causing the minutes to slowly tick by, Cole felt his walls coming down one by one. He tried desperately to tune out the brief and unemotional story of Taylor's life—how "treasured" she was by her parents, how "adored" she was by her schoolmates, how "talented" she was in anything she set her mind to. It sickened him. By the stifled yawns and restless shifting from the seats around him, he figured the rest of the audience was weary of the monotonous monologue too.

As usual, the pastor concluded with a touching image of the mercy of God and the hope of eternal life in an attempt to breathe fresh life into the congregation. "Brothers," he said in his deep, commanding tone, "we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope."