In fact, there was standing room in the back that was quickly filling, too.
There were people lined against the wall all the way down to the stage that I was standing next to.
My father’s friend, Luke, also the chief of police, was standing next to me. A silent sentry.
“How long are we going to wait until we start?” I asked curiously.
We were supposed to have started over twenty minutes ago, but there never seemed a good enough time to start, seeing as people still kept shoving in.
“I’ll say about ten minutes or so,” he answered, not looking down at me. “I would say right now, but I just know that door’s gonna keep banging open and closed until there can be no more.”
I agreed with him.
I was twiddling my thumbs, trying not to think about why I was here when he sighed.
“Are you doing okay, Avery?” he asked.
I looked up at him to see him staring at me thoughtfully.
“I’ve been better,” I admitted. “But I’m an ol’ pro at this. I should be okay through the ceremony.”
That was a lie.
I wasn’t going to be okay through the ceremony.
I was going to cry my ass off.
On the stage in the shadows. All on my own.
They’d asked if I wanted anyone sitting with me, and I’d declined.
Sure, I would love to have someone—preferably my mother or my father—at my side, but everybody else wasn’t them. I didn’t want a substitute. And, though my father was loved by all his friends and co-workers, I didn’t know them as well as I probably should have.
I was what some people would consider weird.
Weird as in when my parents went out with their friends from work or went to a work function, I didn’t go.
I was just more interested in hanging out at home, with a book, or editing photos than I was to pretend like I was enjoying myself at a party when I wasn’t.
Which was why I didn’t know any of my dad’s friends well. Even Luke.
I’d seen him around town. I knew who he was. Said hi to him a few times. But overall, I was in my own little world a lot of the time. That included staying there when chiefs of police came into the picture, even if he was a bigwig.
“I think it’s time,” he said.
I nodded my head.
“Yeah,” I said softly.
He gave some signal to the priest, then escorted me to my seat that was on the edge of the stage nearest the curtains that closed off the stage from view.
He winked at me and took his seat next to the priest who was just standing to start the ceremony.
I looked out over the crowd, staring at all the people.
There were tons.
And when I say tons, I meant so freakin’ many.
It made my heart happy to know that my dad had that.
That that many people showed up to support the life he’d lived.
I looked down at my hands and listened to everyone throughout the ceremony, smiling slightly when Luke got up to speak.
Once he was done, he looked over at me with a raised brow.
Did I want to speak?
I stood up, causing everyone’s attention to come to me.
I was in a black form-fitting dress that covered nearly every available inch of my body.
I’d stolen it from my mother’s closet when she’d passed and had no clue that I’d be wearing it so soon again.
I cleared my throat and then stepped up to the podium, staring out at my father’s friends.
No family in sight.
Both sets of my grandparents had passed, and both my mom and my dad had been only children. There were no uncles or aunts, no distant cousins to be had.
Just me.
I was all that was left now.
“I asked my dad for a brother once,” I said, eyes staring blankly at the mahogany wood that the podium was made out of. “He told me that I was a handful, and it would take everything he had to raise me.”
There was a slight chuckle from everyone in the room.
“When I was five, I asked him if it hurt to shoot someone,” I said softly, running my fingers along the grain. “He said only when he closes his eyes at night.”
There was a sniffle.
“When I was seven, I asked him if he could take me to work with him.” I smiled at the memory. “He told me no because I’d get hungry at some point and sometimes they didn’t get to eat for a solid twelve hours if it was a busy shift.” I snickered, remembering that day with picture-perfect clarity. “I told him I didn’t want to go if it wasn’t guaranteed that I’d get to eat.”
Everybody laughed at that.
“He came home one time when I was ten with a broken nose and two black eyes.” My mouth tipped up at the corner, and I was no longer seeing the people in the auditorium. I was seeing my dad, grinning like a lunatic at me. “He came home, gave my mom a huge kiss, then took a picture with me. He told me to take it out and laugh at it when I was having a bad day.”