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Back One White Lie Save as PDF
Chapters (59)
  1. COVER
  2. About the Author
  3. DEDICATION
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY-ONE
  35. THIRTY-TWO
  36. THIRTY-THREE
  37. THIRTY-FOUR
  38. THIRTY-FIVE
  39. THIRTY-SIX
  40. THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. THIRTY-NINE
  43. FORTY
  44. FORTY-ONE
  45. FORTY-TWO
  46. FORTY-THREE
  47. FORTY-FOUR
  48. FORTY-FIVE
  49. FORTY-SIX
  50. FORTY-SEVEN
  51. FORTY-EIGHT
  52. FORTY-NINE
  53. FIFTY
  54. FIFTY-ONE
  55. FIFTY-TWO
  56. FIFTY-THREE
  57. FIFTY-FOUR
  58. Acknowledgments
  59. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

In the same back row, about a few feet down the pew, was the waitress from Schoolhouse restaurant.

I smiled, happy to see a familiar face, but her eyes didn’t connect with mine.

Rachel was nowhere to be seen.

I turned back to the front. I had the strange feeling that no one here really knew John, not even close to the way Vera did, and she was simply telling us the story of his life as if he were a character in a book, or a quirky Manhattanite in a New York Times profile. That included me, too. I hadn’t known that his favorite meal, despite his epicurean-leaning tendencies, was actually grilled cheese. Or that the two of them had differing opinions on the proper way to fold a T-shirt.

‘That was the gift of being with him for fourteen years,’ Vera said, her eyes finding the bottom of the sheet of notes in her hand. ‘I knew him better than anyone.’

She folded the paper, then looked up, eyes suddenly focused. ‘He wasn’t perfect. No one is perfect,’ she continued, her words cutting. I pressed my lips together, calm, stoic, as my insides roiled: I hadn’t been good to her. I hadn’t respected her marriage.

Vera cleared her throat. ‘But whatever anyone might think about him, he didn’t deserve this.’

Tears struck me viciously. As Vera walked back, squeezed past me, and took her seat, it lodged deep in my bones: She was right, so very right. I didn’t care what Rachel had said, what doubts she’d tried to sow – John didn’t deserve this, not in the slightest. John was good. Apart from that one stupid night with me, he was good.

When the service ended, Vera returned to the front to greet people paying their respects. I went the opposite direction, finding a place to stand against the back wall.

McKnight hovered on the left-hand side, watching us all, his chest pocket bulging from the width of his notebook. I knew he needed to find out what had happened, but still, it was cold, turning a memorial into work, something that required notes.

I leaned against the wall, watching a line of people I didn’t know waiting to talk to Vera. The service itself was over, but she had the space until noon, giving people time to pay their respects. I wondered what they were saying to her, who they were to John …

‘Shit, I’m late.’