There's Something about Sarah Ch. 05

"Don't get teary on me Sarah you look stunning and you don't wanna ruin your makeup," Tina smiled at me.

"No fucking tears today Tina. Today is for me to say goodbye and fuck those other motherfuckers!" I sneered.

"Wow! Ok lets go Sarah, we want to be fashionably late but we don't want to miss anything," she jiggled the car keys at me and nodded at our Pinto.

We took a beer each for the road and stopped briefly at a florist and set off for the cemetery.

The funeral was the sort of fiasco only Sloane could have organised. We parked on the cemetery service road behind the funeral procession which, except for the hearse, consisted mostly of beat up pickups and muscle cars; real southern-white-trash-mobiles. A crowd of people stood around an open grave, the mound of dirt beside it covered with cheap green felt, a yellow front-end loader was parked on the opposite service road, the driver smoking and waiting patiently to fill the hole. Very classy.

Most of the folk were dressed in black but a few of the men wore bluejeans and button up shirts with ties that didn't match, and poorly polished shoes; their best effort at funeral attire. I was surprised at the turnout but it's a small town and almost everyone goes to a funeral around here.

The day was cool but the sky was bright blue and without a cloud and the sun was high; a real West Texas spring day. It was a little over a year since I had left.

Tina and I stepped carefully though the weed and rock-strewn graveyard and approached the small crowd, our heads held high, each clutching a single red rose. The Minister was espousing the virtues that guaranteed eternal life. To the best of my memory Amanda possessed few of them.

As we got closer I could make out faces in the crowd. Sloane stood at the head of the grave looking worse for wear. She was dressed in a nice black dress but she had a runner in one of her nylons, her makeup was smudged and her hair dishevelled. She had the beginnings of a beer belly and her ass was definitely bigger than when I had left; it was spiteful I know but I smiled inwardly. It was obvious even from this far away that she was drunk.

That sleazeoid Billy Kettering was dressed in a poorly fitting, hand-me-down, black suit that was frayed at the cuffs and lapels. He was holding Sloane's arm and when she burst into an obviously feigned crying jag he assisted her into a green camp chair, of which there were three rows set either side of the grave.

As Tina and I approached a number of mourners looked our way and quite a few of them stared. I stumbled briefly when I caught sight of Bing Holthouse and his asshole friends grouped together to one side of the crowd. They made no effort to hide their salacious stares and nudged each other with their elbows, smirking and whispering undoubtedly lewd comments in each other's ears as they passed a hip flask around. To them we were just two 'hot babes' to be lusted over.

Tina caught my elbow and steadied me just as the Minister gave the group of ruffians a stern look and harrumphed, directing their attention back to the service.

I could see Sloane staring at us with a mixture of stupefaction, envy, and anger. I knew her too well. She was supposed to be the star of the show; not these two big-city interlopers. She would be wondering why two well-dressed strange women were at her mother's funeral.

We arrived at the gravesite just as the Minister directed everyone to be seated and we took two seats in the back row. Throughout the rest of the service inquisitive heads turned our way but decorum prevented them from staring too long. I ignored everyone else and lowered my head and listened to the sermon, thinking of my Aunt Amanda, how she could be so cruel and yet sometimes so kind to me.

Sloane gave a eulogy that wasn't all that bad but she mumbled and stammered through most of it. Of course there was no mention of me.

After the last prayer had been said the minister invited those so inclined to say their goodbyes to Amanda and to pay their respects to her surviving daughter. I stood up and got in line. With my head down the black net veil obstructed my sight a little but when my time came I strode purposely forward and kissed Sloane on the cheek.

"I'm sorry for your loss; may you take comfort in knowing she is in a better place," I whispered.

Sloane looked at me with amazement and stood speechless beside the grave.

I lifted my veil, stepped forward and dropped the single red rose on the coffin.

The crowd began to murmur and mutter amongst themselves as a few of them recognised me. I paid them no notice and said a silent prayer over the grave, then I lowered my veil and walked away with my head held high.

"Yeah; you get out of here freak!" someone, most likely one of Bing's buddies, murmured.

"Shame on you! That girl has as much right to grieve as anyone else here," I heard a matronly voice shush the crowd but I didn't look back.

Tina fell in step beside me as we strode away from the grave towards our car.

"You ok girl?" she turned to me.

"I'm fine honey; fuck them all," I smiled back at her.

We got into the car and Tina had just started the engine when a woman came running towards us. She was better dressed than most of the mourners and was having trouble running in her high heels. As she got closer I realised it was Lizzie Sanders, my best friend from high school.

"Here we go. The abuse begins," I said.

Lizzie knocked on my window and I wound it down expecting a tirade. Instead I was rewarded with a smile.

"Sarah Grayson! Don't you look all grown up and citified!" she grinned.

"Everyone was wondering what happened to you. There's rumours you went abroad or that you became a model in New York. Some nasty people said that you were a drug addict and working as a lap dancer in Austin," she grinned.

I smiled peakedly.

"I thought most of you wished I was dead after the Prom."

"You hush now! Except for the redneck brigade, and there ain't that many really, everybody in town was downright disgusted by what happened to you at the Prom. Sure we were all shocked but jeez, we all grew up with Sarah Grayson and that's who we love. What you was before then ain't nobody's business but your own," she replied.

"You're actually quite the celebrity around here; there's people claiming to be your best friend who never knew you from Adam and they claim they knew all along that you was different."

"Amanda stood up at the town meeting after you left and gave the audience an earful! Said them that scorned you were intolerant hillbillies who had no brains and no compassion. The town council passed a resolution honoring you as an 'Esteemed Daughter' of our little shire."

"You're joking!" I was amazed.

"Look, let me tell you all about it. We're having a wake in Amanda's honor at the 'Dew Drop Inn'; come along and bring your friend," Lizzie beamed at both of us.

"I don't know Lizzie; Sloane doesn't seem too happy to see me and some of the mourners seemed quite upset that I'm here," I replied.

"Oh pish! That was just Bobby Fillay being his stupid intolerant self; most around here will be glad to see you and keen to hear about what became of our own Ice Princess," she reached in and playfully punched my shoulder.

I blushed at the mention of that name and turned to Tina. She had a look of concentration on her face and I could almost hear the wheels turning over in her brain. She looked at me and smiled.

"Fuck it Sarah; let's go. Nothing bad is going to happen to you there I promise," Tina said.

"And I promise too! I'll make sure you're surrounded my friends," Lizzie grinned.

"And Sloane?" I asked.

"Oh piss on Sloane. Most of the town hasn't forgiven her for what she did to you. Look; most of your old friends are in college now and are only back in town for the funeral; let's catch up," Lizzie beamed encouragement.

"As my learned colleague beside me just said...Fuck it! Let's go!" I beamed back at her.

"That's my old girlfriend; see you at six o'clock then," Lizzie turned away and I'm sure she skipped rather than walked down the road.

To be continued...