Landry in Like (6 page)

T
he next day
in English class, Mrs. Kharazzi called on me to read. I had been following along in the book, but I kept stumbling over the sentences and I felt stupid as I jumbled up the words. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my paragraph was done.

After class, Mrs. Kharazzi called me over. Great, she was probably going to ask if I needed to be in an easier English class since I obviously was too dumb to live — except she'd put it in a nicer way.

“Landry, is everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I'm sorry about before. I was paying attention, honest, I was.”

“I know, I just worry you were… not so much distracted as you seemed upset about something. Am I right? Is something wrong?” she asked.

I nodded and she asked me if I wanted to talk about it.

“I can write you a note for next period,” she said.

I sat down and told her how hard Ashanti was taking her grandmother's death and that I was worried.

“You're a good friend to feel such concern for her. I'm sure it's such a comfort to her knowing she has you to talk to,” Mrs. Kharazzi said.

“But I don't know what to say to make her feel better.”

“Well, sometimes it's not so much what we
say
, it's just being there for the person that counts. I lost my grandfather when I was about your age, and he was back in Iran at the time and we couldn't go to the funeral. It was a different time and… well, travel isn't so easy with all of that. I loved him, but I had missed so much time with him. So what I did was to write my grandfather a letter telling him how much of an impact he had on my life. I wrote down all the good times and everything I'd ever wanted to tell him. It helped me because there are a lot of things that are difficult to say in person, but when you write it in a letter that's never going to be sent, it's easier and it makes you feel better.”

“Thanks, I will tell her about the letter,” I said.

When I got home, I sent Ashanti an email about writing the letter. She wrote back asking what she was supposed to do with it once she was done. Mrs. Kharazzi hadn't mentioned that, but I assumed you just kept it and said a prayer for the other person. Ashanti wrote back saying she was going to write hers tonight. Mom came in then to ask if my homework was done.

“No, but I practically just walked in the door.”

“Cute, coming from the little lady who expects me to jump to her every wish as soon as I get home from work,” Mom said.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm getting to my homework,” I said, explaining the idea I had gotten from Mrs. Kharazzi for Ashanti.

“Didn't I suggest pretty much the exact same thing?” Mom asked.

“Did you? I don't remember.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “I love how it has to come from a third party for you to take the idea seriously. But if it helps, then I guess it doesn't matter where it came from… even if I did come up with it first.”

Mothers.

I
spent
the next day at school feeling nervous about going to the funeral home to see Ashanti's grandma. The whole idea of the visitation weirded me out because I had never been to one of those places before and didn't know what to expect. The only person I had ever known who died was Grandpa Albright, but I had been little and my parents hadn't taken me with them because they were afraid I'd be scarred for life. Grandma Albright frequently brought up how my parents babied me on that, and my mother always had to make a big deal about how her parenting books said they shouldn't rush me into those things and how I was a “nervous and sensitive child.” So embarrassing. However, my mom was right about that. I was too young for it then. But I could handle it now though… right?

I got home and changed into a black skirt and dark purple top. I didn't know if I was expected to wear all black like people did on TV, but I didn't have a black top, so I figured purple would work. Mom came home and we headed over to the funeral parlor. We walked in the door and found the room Ashanti's grandmother was in. We took one step in the door and my mom grabbed my arm and pulled me out.

“Okay, I don't want you to panic, but it's an open casket,” she said.

“What?”

“Yeah, I didn't think about that. I guess because the last three or four funeral parlors I went to they didn't have the person laid out and I forgot that happens. We don't have to go in if you think it might scare you.”

I bit my lip. I wanted to ask my mom questions, such as what did a dead person look like up close and all that, but I didn't want to seem as if I were a little kid.

“I know you're a sensitive person, and I'll be honest with you — I had nightmares the first time I saw an open casket,” Mom said.

“Doesn't it just look like the person is sleeping?”

“Sometimes… but it's…”

“Still strange?”

“Landry, I don't do well with the whole thing myself. Never have. So if you aren't up to it, then say the word and we can make an excuse and go. I'll take the hit on this one and say I got a migraine.”

“Ashanti wants me to be here for her though. I feel like I need to do this for her.”

“Do you want me to go take a better look first?” she asked.

I nodded and Mom walked in and disappeared behind the doors while I waited for her. She came back in seconds.

“Good news and bad. The good news is her grandma does look like she's just sleeping, the bad news is Mrs. Russell saw me and is probably wondering where you are and why I just ran out.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay, I can do this. I just won't… get too close. I'm not sure I'm ready, but I need to do this for Ashanti.”

We walked in and I didn't see Ashanti anywhere. We walked over to Mr. and Mrs. Russell, and I tried to keep my eyes off the big gray casket at the front of the room.

“Landry, honey, oh thank you for coming,” Mrs. Russell said, taking both my hands. “Could you do me a big favor? Ashanti isn't handling the whole thing too well. She's sitting in the lounge by herself, and I would appreciate it if you'd go find her and make sure she's okay.”

“Sure.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” my mom asked. Was it just me or did Mom look like she wanted to bolt, too?

I shook my head and went to find Ashanti. She was sitting on a big pale blue couch in the lounge playing on her phone.

“Hey.”

She stood up, ran over, and threw her arms around me. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah… no. This whole thing just stinks. I feel guilty and no one is saying I'm a selfish jerk, but I can't get past it. My last time to see my grandmother and I miss it for a dumb cheerleading thing so some high school girls would think I was cool,” she said. “And you know what? They barely acknowledged my existence at that stupid practice. I sat on a bleacher and watched. The only people I talked to were Maggie and Halle. Yasmin was too busy kissing up to the high school girls to even talk to me.”

I shifted and felt uncomfortable. It almost sounded like Ashanti had been hoping to spend time with Yasmin.

“But you didn't know that's what was going to happen. I mean, it could have been important for you to be at that practice.”

“Yeah, but it wasn't. At least not as important as seeing my grandma,” she said. “Oh, but I wrote the letter.”

“The one to your grandma?”

“Yup, I poured everything into it: all the fun times we had, how much she meant to me, how I'd miss her. I cried my eyes out writing it. Seriously, I bawled, but when I was done I felt better. Like I knew she had heard me somehow. And for the first time since it happened, I didn't wake up in the middle of the night and feel like barfing.”

“I'm glad it helped you feel better.”

“It was like I got a lot of the guilt and stuff out. I still feel like a brat, but at least I feel like my granny knows I loved her.”

I nodded. “My mom did the letter thing once. She said it helped her, too.”

“I'm so glad you came. I was completely panicking when we walked in and I saw Grandma all out in the open. My dad said he doesn't remember if he warned me about that or not. He seemed kinda thrown himself, so I'm not sure he was aware she was going to be shown. I think Mom handled it and assumed we would all be cool with it, but, guess what? I wasn't. It's such a weird thing. Whose idea was it to say, ‘Hey, let's have people come in and see their loved ones after they're… you know…
gone.
It's creepy and morbid,” she said shuddering.

“This is the first time I've ever seen someone in a funeral home.”

Her eyes widened. “Mine, too. Are you okay with it? I know she's not your grandma, but it can't be easy.”

“Well, I wasn't expecting it, but I wanted to be here for you, so whatever. I'll deal with it,” I said, not adding I had prayed for that image not to show up in my dreams as I walked into the room.

Ashanti hugged me. “You're a good friend. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“Same here.”

“And I hope I never have to, but if, you know, something happened, well, I'd be there for you, too.”

“I know you would.”

“You'll notice Maggie's not around, even though she said she'd come. Halle's mom dropped a casserole over before. I know Halle has gymnastics tonight, so I get that she's busy with that and homework, but I would have showed up if it was her grandma.”

“I don't think people realize how hard it is. I was little when Grandpa Albright died and it scared me. I didn't understand what was going on, and my mom didn't bring me to the funeral home or the church because she said I was already a ‘nervous child,' and she didn't want to add to it. I guess it's never easy to lose someone you care about no matter how old you are.”

“Were you close to your grandpa?” she asked.

“Yeah, he was fun and played dolls with me. He was always buying me stuff for my Cadia doll and every time we had a family event where there was cake, he'd save me an end piece with a rose on it — even if he had to take the rose off another part of the cake,” I said.

“Aw, that's sweet.”

“I miss him, and I wish I lived closer to my other grandparents. We used to see them all the time when I lived in Chicago, and now it's like there's never enough time with them when we do go to visit.”

“Does your Mom ever invite them to come here?”

“Mom says Grandma Albright makes her nervous and criticizes everything, and she says Grandma Dombrowski tries to reorganize the whole house and it stresses her out,” I said. “This one time, Mom came home and Grandma D had changed the whole kitchen around, and I thought my mom was going to lose it. It was kind of funny in a way. And then Grandma lectured my mom on making healthy meals from scratch instead of getting takeout all the time.”

Ashanti asked what Mom said about that.

“She tried to tell Grandma that she works all day, but of course that didn't go over well. So now Mom gets a lot of those deli ready-made meals for us that are organic and stuff. I dunno. They're pretty good, so I don't see what the big deal is about who made them. Besides, she comes home tired all the time, so if she had to cook on top of it then she'd be super cranky and hard to live with.”

“I hear ya. I prefer when my dad takes over dinner because if my mom makes the meal, she goes on and on about how hard she worked on it and how she multitasks and blah, blah, blah. It's like you feel guilty while you eat,” she said.

“Exactly. And sometimes I want macaroni and cheese from a box, you know? Although that organic gluten-free kind from My Lil' Foodie Mart is super good.”

“Granny used to make mac ‘n cheese for me. She'd use real cheese and it was all stringy and gooey — kind of nasty looking, but it was the best stuff on earth. I'll never have that again,” she said tearing up.

“Maybe you could learn to make it so you'd remember her that way. Does anyone have a recipe or anything about how she made it?”

Ashanti shook her head. “I dunno. I could ask my aunt. My grandma didn't use recipes when she cooked. She just kind of knew what to add to stuff, but maybe someone knows how she did it.”

Mom came in then and said they were getting ready to wrap up for the night and go home.

“I wish the funeral wasn't on a school day so you could come,” Ashanti said.

“Me, too. I'll call you as soon as I get home from school.”

Ashanti touched my mom's arm. “Everyone's going to be at the house tomorrow afternoon to eat and stuff. Could Landry get off at my bus stop and come over after school?”

“Sure, hon. I'll write her a note to clear it with the bus driver just in case,” Mom said. She gave Ashanti a hug. “Take care. Let us know if you need anything.”

Mr. and Mrs. Russell came in and thanked me for coming.

“I asked Landry to come over after school tomorrow. Is that okay?” Ashanti asked.

“Of course, she's welcome anytime,” her mom said. “Honey, go get your coat and we'll head on out.”

As soon as Ashanti left the room, Mrs. Russell nodded to me. “She's had a tough time of it, and you've been a good friend to her. We appreciate that.”

It was then that I noticed Mr. Russell's eyes were filling up. “She's lucky to have you.”

Oh wow, I had never made a grown man cry before. Mrs. Russell squeezed my arm and told me she was looking forward to seeing me tomorrow. Mom and I walked out to the parking lot.

Mom put her hand on my shoulder. “Kid, I gotta say, you handled that better than I would have at your age. I could see myself taking one look at the casket, saying, ‘Nope,' and running out. And I wouldn't have known what to say to my friend either. When I lost my grandmother at your age—” Mom cleared her throat and sighed. “I spent the time hiding out in the back of the funeral home. I had gone to viewings before, but it's not quite the same as seeing someone you care about.”

“Why do they do that? It seems weird.”

“Well, it is a little weird. The idea is that people get to say a proper good-bye with seeing the person one final time. Personally, I can say good-bye while looking at a nice eight-by-ten glossy photograph just as easily,” she said.

I laughed. “Me, too.”

“I think we've earned a trip to Ignatowski's Ice Cream Palace for some ice cream, don't you?”

“Yes, and maybe this calls for a large sundae with extra whipped topping?” I asked.

“And sprinkles.”

“Rainbow, not chocolate,” I said.

“Let's go.”