Eileen Slovak

Chapter Ten: Remember to Breathe

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and locales are products of the author’s imagination. They are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is coincidental. Copyright © 2024 by Eileen Slovak.

Scarlet

At work, I’m present in body, but the status of my mind is another matter. When the clock strikes four, my workday mercifully ends early while my anxiety steadily increases. Driving to the church in Barrington, I soothe myself with a mantra. Breathe, everything will be fine, it’s only a funeral. Relax. Maintain composure.

Pulling into the parking lot, my heartbeat thunders in my ears. I survey the host of cars, then the extensive line of mourners waiting to enter the church. Breathe. Relax. Breathe.

Opening the car door, I hear the faint moan of bagpipes. Now I fully regret my decision to attend the funeral alone.

      Throughout the day, the murky sky had been threatening rain, now the clouds began to spit. It’s misty, not wet enough for an umbrella, but damp enough to be annoying. The melting snow creates narrow rivers in the parking area. My mother always said rain was a good sign on the day of a funeral. It means heaven is weeping for the dead. A shiver invades my body. I wish I’d brought a proper jacket instead of my thin raincoat.

      Inside the church, it’s exceedingly warm from the surfeit of mourners. I can’t shake the raw chill that has settled beneath my skin. Darkly clothed, we all move in an assembly, a murmur of voices speaking in hushed tones. The combination of threatening skies behind stained-glass windows offers little aid to the muted church interior. The pungent scent of incense fills the air. I feel a rising wave of nausea stir from the pit of my stomach.

      Positioning myself in the second to last pew, I scan the crowd, searching for familiar faces. Sean’s parents are with the large family group in the front pew of the church. Mr. Campbell sits tall with one arm wrapped protectively around his wife. Her blond head moves as she sobs into a handkerchief.

      Shortly after Sean and I began dating, we had Sunday dinner with his parents at their home in Barrington. They were gracious, polite hosts, but I noted a slight air of superiority. Throughout the evening, they pummeled me with questions about my background, my family, my schooling, my career, my living situation. It was exhausting.

      Afterward, I asked Sean, “what if I come right out and tell your parents that I’m not a gold digger? I mean, just to get it over with?”

      He apologized profusely. “I know how they seem. It will get better, I promise.”

      Back then, I already determined I had no desire to attend another Campbell family dinner, ever again. Now, seeing Sean’s parents in this circumstance, shrouded in grief, I feel a twinge of remorse for my harsh judgment.

      Surveying the crowd, I try to locate Kevin or any of Sean’s closest friends. Instead, the face I stumble upon is the only one I’d hoped to avoid. I lock eyes with Trish Iannuccilli, Sean’s neighbor and high school sweetheart. Even when Sean and I were dating, it was as if Trish never truly left the picture. She’s seated in the row behind Sean’s family. I nod my acknowledgment of her presence. She glares back at me stonily, before abruptly averting her gaze. She looks like crap. This should not make me feel better, but it does. See? Totally inappropriate!