Fiction

The Cemetery Girl

A chance meeting

Photo by Dmitry Ganin on Unsplash

I was never great with funerals.

Usually, I tried to find an excuse not to go. Well, to be totally honest, I try to find an excuse to get out of most things.

But, sometimes you get stuck.

A friend from work didn’t want to go to a funeral alone so duty called. He was a good guy, and I felt bad. Also, I couldn’t think of a reason to get out of it fast enough.

On the bright side, it was a nice funeral. As nice as funerals go.

Very cinematic. There was the slightest drizzle of rain so everyone carried black umbrellas like we were mourning the death of a mob boss. It was a rather large affair too.

To be honest, I wasn’t even sure who had died. My friend told me of course, but I have a tendency to not pay attention.

But, I was just a friend there for support so I was left alone. A large party gathered in the cemetery, so large that it exceeded the number of chairs. The seats were reserved for family and I stayed as far to the back as possible.

I’m not proud of this, but the group was so large and the speakers kept going and going I gently backed away and wandered around the place. It was busier than I thought. There were a couple other smaller funerals and many people visiting individual graves.

I saw a young woman wearing a dark purple coat knelt down by a headstone.

I was wearing my best suit, and well, I gave it a shot.

“Come here often?” I asked.

“First time actually,” she said, turning her head up and brushing the brown curls from her face.

“Oh me too.”

“Doubt it, I bet you dress up and stroll the graves looking for a single woman.”

“You caught me. I hate bars and the competition is much quieter here.”

“That’s very true.”

She went back to looking at the stone one last time before standing.

“Were you close?” I couldn’t see the writing on the stone. Immediately, I realized it was a dumb question. Why would someone go and visit the grave of a mere acquaintance?

“You could say that.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Amanda,” she said.

“Jack.”

“Well you’re dressed too nice to work here so I assume you’re here for a reason.”

“I actually dress like this everyday just in case.”

“It’s a good day for a funeral,” she said looking at my umbrella.

“That’s what I said.”

“Very godfather-esque.”

“I made the same joke earlier.”

“Well great minds and what not.”

Just then, the rain picked up giving me the perfect gentlemanly opportunity.

“Here,” I said, extending the umbrella, “If you don’t mind standing over there we can share.”

“That works.”

And so we walked back to the funeral where yet another person was talking.

My umbrella mate looked confused.

“There’s more people than I thought.”

“Oh, did you know the person?”

She smiled, “I should. It’s my funeral.”