Katherine

2. The Funeral

The funeral of Alex Scherbatsky was held in an old Episcopal church just west of S. Skinker Boulevard, a short drive from Elliot's apartment. It was an enormous church, built completely out of stone that made it seem like it belonged more in Europe than in St. Louis. To the annoyance of the neighborhood residents, the street was lined with the cars of funeral attendants. Elliot had noticed a trend, the younger the person the bigger their funeral seemed to be. He had actually arrived early at the request of Mr. and Mrs. Scherbatsky, but sitting in the cavernous sanctuary alone with Alex started to weigh on his thoughts. He decided to take a walk outside to calm himself enough for his eulogy.

As typical for the Midwest, the weather refused to conform to any seasonal stereotypes and that was especially true for the day of the funeral. It was sunny and cool, but far from the biting cold that should be present in January. Some would call it "jacket weather." Elliot was comfortable in his suit coat and a cap; however, he was irritated by the pleasantness of day. Despite all the people lining up in front of the church, he was bitter that so many more could enjoy their day unaffected and unaware of the loss of one more person in the world.

It could have at least rained to better suit everyone's mood, but the weather doesn't care about any one person's mood anyway.

Having walked down past the playground of the neighboring school, Elliot thought it would be best for him to head back to the church. He turned around and once more walked the length of the barred, iron fence surrounding the school to the walkway leading up to the great wooden doors of the church. There was a small crowd of people making its way inside. A collection of different friends and families all grouped together, but one girl stood apart. She had come alone.

Elliot was drawn to her as soon as he saw her. Partly because she was separated from the crowd, but mostly it was her demeanor that held him. He could sense she held a profound absence that caused a kind of discomfort that had no immediate remedy. Elliot knew this as he experienced that same feeling. So did Mark and Nina. There was a gap left and it was still sore.

She was looking down at her phone when he passed her on his way up to the church. He never intended to say anything to her. They would both leave for their own lives and deal with things there. Empty condolences would only be a waste of breath. Words don't fix people.

Elliot never intended to speak, but the woman did. She caught his sleeve in the doorway.

"Sorry." She said when he turned to face her. "Sorry, but I can't stand it when this happens."

His tie was crooked and the woman went to pull it straight again. If it were anyone else, Elliot would have pulled away but there were worse things than a beautiful stranger fixing his tie. Long strawberry blonde hair, green eyes, a half teardrop nose, Elliot tired to take in details before she finished but she was too quick.

"Sorry." She said again, stepping away.

"No-No it's fine." He said, clearing his throat.

She waved and headed in. Elliot took off his cap and headed in as well, walking down the long aisle the front pew where Mark and Nina Scherbatsky sat.

Nina grabbed his thin wrist and gave him a weak smile when he slid in next to her on the wooden pew. It was just the four of them there, Elliot and Alex's parents and Mark's mother. She couldn't remember whose funeral this was; she kept pointing up at the picture of Alex asking, "Who is that, Joseph?"

She often mistook Mark for her deceased husband.

Nina spent most of the service clinging to both her husband and Elliot. Mark had to whisper the answers to his mother's repeated questions. Elliot spent it trying not to cough. Whenever he did, it would echo through the high, vaulted ceilings. He could feel the people staring at him when they did. It wasn't their fault; they didn't know he couldn't help it. If they did, they would probably feel bad. Even so, sometimes he hated himself for not being able to stop for a goddamn hour.

After what seemed like hours, it was time for Elliot to speak. The Reverend nodded and motioned him forward. Once again, he could feel the crowd staring at him, but this time not as a distraction. As he reached into his pocket and unfolded what he wrote, he scanned for the woman, but couldn't find her. It was likely that she was sitting toward the back. Elliot coughed for a moment, cleared his throat and began:

"Sorry. I, uh, I have this illness where my lungs can't ever get rid of the mucus that builds up in there. It sucks, but I would never have met Alex if I weren't born with it, so that almost makes everything worth it. Like most of my other childhood friends, I met Alex at Children's. He was there for his second round of chemo and I was there for a persistent infection. As it happened, we had a few hospitalizations together. Even when he was sick, Alex was an easy person to get along with and I think that's because he would never sugar coat how he was doing. The doctors loved him for it too. If he felt like shit one day, he would tell you he felt like shit. And then tell you why.

'It took June three times to get in this IV.'

Or

'They won't let me eat, I need more blood work.'

"You have no idea what it means to a sick kid to have someone your age who understands those things.

"Anyway, the whole staff was put on edge when we were together. There's only so much you can do in a hospital before you get bored. Alex and I would try to pass the time by racing down the hall on our IV poles. One time Alex fell over and the IV was pulled right out of his arm. The nurses were furious.

"But the thing that separated Alex from the other kids at Children's was that he was one of the few who stuck with you even after he got better. Other kids would come in, leave, and never look back, but Alex didn't let people go very easily. So even when he went into remission, he still made sure to visit-which, believe me, happens less frequently the more often you're there. When he relapsed, I did my best to return the favor.

"As many of you know, the outcome wasn't supposed to be like this. All the doctors said his odds were good. He beat this before, he could beat it again. And he could have..."

Elliot paused, trying to take a deep breath.

"He could have beaten the cancer. But ultimately, the cancer didn't kill him. No matter how many statistics or assurances you get, you can never really know how things will turn out. Alex's death was untimely and unexpected. But for most of us, knowing him for that short time was well worth the pain we would experience later. I'm sure Alex would say the same about everyone here. He was that kind of person and he will be sorely missed."

Elliot didn't look up when he finished. He folded up his paper and resumed his seat. The serviced ended soon after and the pallbearers, of which Mark was one, began to carry the casket out of the church. Nina was left to look after Mark's mothers so Elliot went to wait for them outside the church.

It was still sunny out and many of the attendants were now leaving. There wouldn't be very many at the grave. Elliot leaned up against the church as he watched the pallbearers move the casket into the hearse. That's when he saw the woman again. She left the church hidden in a crowd of people and was now making her way to her car. He made to go after he, but stopped. Everything he had to say had already been said. He leaned back against the church. She was too far anyway. He would never be able to catch her.