She goes on to tell them about the movie they are going to watch tonight. The people interviewed each represent a particular type of loss, so hopefully they will be able to find something to relate to in at least one of the grief stories. After the movie, they will take a quick break, no longer than ten minutes, please. Then they will split up into groups. She points as she speaks. In the back right corner, the loss of parent group. In the back left corner, the loss of spouse group. By the right of the stage, the loss of child and loss of sibling groups. And by the left of the stage, the loss by suicide group.

Kavita clutches inside when she hears the word. Her eyes dart among the rows, nervously, as she tries to read the reactions of the other mourners. Then she looks back at Brenda, who appears unfazed. There’s no hint of shame in her demeanour, as if she has nothing to be ashamed about, and more incredibly to Kavita, she isn’t afraid of what anyone might say or do.

Brenda finishes by saying she will be facilitating the loss by suicide group tonight, thanks them, and takes her seat in the front row.

Kavita stares at Brenda’s twisted bun with wide eyes. She wonders if Brenda is a suicide survivor too. Although they are still strangers, and have yet to meet officially, Kavita can’t deny she feels a kinship with the facilitator. This woman, Brenda, who has transformed her pain into so much good. Who lives a meaningful life. Is such a thing truly possible? Kavita dares to wonder. Even for her? The room goes dark and the video begins to play.

After the movie, the lights flick back on, and people start milling about. She goes to the washroom and considers spending the rest of the break in the stall, but there are only two, and a line-up is forming already.

Back in the room, she pours herself a glass of apple juice and tries to rehydrate.

Plastic cup in hand, she walks along the tables displaying bereavement literature and picks up a couple of handouts, pretending to read them, for the sake of appearing occupied.

“They definitely need to get some new videos,” says a deep voice to her left. Surprised, she looks over with raised eyebrows. It is the young man with the half ponytail, smiling as widely—as disarmingly—as before. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that one.”

“The puffy hairstyles and synthesizer were pretty funny,” she offers.

“It’s the mullets that really did it for me. But then again, I’m a sucker for a good mullet.”

“True,” she nods. “It’s hard to deny a good mullet. If indeed such a thing exists.”