In addition to pitching in on funeral days, Nate also maintains the chapel’s website. He’s only fourteen, but has already started talking about studying computer science. Sounds like a lot of big talk to me. Now if there were a job where you could sit on the couch eating chips and playing video games, he definitely would have a rewarding career ahead of him.

“But if you do decide you want a career in the industry,” Dad continued, “you’d be very good at it.” He smiled again, a little wider this time. “And I’m not just saying that because I’m your father.”

He looked down the hall. “Why don’t you go wait for Oren and take him straight into the quiet room? Let me know if you need anything.”

I nodded and began walking away.

“Oh, and Evie?”

“Yeah?”

“Just…you know…just don’t—” He winced.

“Talk his ear off,” I said. “I know, Dad, I know.”

I didn’t have to wait long before Oren came out of the bathroom. He stopped abruptly in the doorway when he saw me standing there. The swinging door bumped into his butt.

“Your uncle is meeting with my parents in the office,” I said, not mentioning the meltdown. “We can go to the quiet room.” I pointed toward the back of the building. “That’s where you’ll be before the funeral, while people are coming in. That way you don’t have to greet anyone.”

Oren swallowed hard and then just stared at me. I replayed what I’d just said inside my head.

Duh, Evie! I could have smacked myself. Why did you bring up the funeral?

But the truth was, even though Oren probably didn’t want to hear about it, the funeral had to happen very soon, whether he was ready or not.

Jewish people have funerals as soon as possible—sometimes even the next day—for a few reasons. The biggest one is to honor the dead. Some people say—the neshama—the soul—hangs around until the body is properly laid to rest.

I once asked Dad if that means there are ghosts hanging out in the funeral chapel all the time. He said he didn’t really believe in ghosts, but that it was tradition to put bodies to rest quickly. For one thing, it helped the mourners begin to work through their grief. That seemed like a very good reason.

I couldn’t say any of this to Oren though.

“I’m sorry,” I said, fighting embarrassed tears. “Let’s just…we’ll go sit down. Okay?”

He looked toward the office again. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I heard something that sounded like a sob. Oren must have heard it too, because he turned back to me and nodded.

I led him down the hall to the quiet room. I flicked the light switch and gestured for him to enter. The room was decorated with blue walls and soft lighting to be calming and serene—almost like a living room. When Oren sat at the end of one of the sofas, I pointed at the small fridge. “Do you want some water?”