Oh god, I thought, my heart crawling up into my throat: This is it! Isn’t it? This is the airport scene! Can it be that the Church of Rick and Ilsa is a place without solace, with only the crumbs of strength you could sweep, hoard, muster, cling to so that you might endure the long, empty, loveless days and nights that would follow? Goodbye. Our paths will not cross, and we will never see each other again! Racketing through my whole body were emotions I had only ever seen onscreen, only ever felt secondhand, accompanied by popcorn. I used every ounce of strength I had to stifle anything remotely like a sob, or the temptation to call after him. Unsteadily I got out of the MG and walked toward the gravesite.

Terrence joined the other pallbearers gathered at the hearse. Together they shouldered Clarence’s coffin, carried it to its final resting place, and lowered it to the ground in front of metal folding chairs lined up for the family. The chairs had gotten too hot to sit on, and men took off their suit jackets and placed them over the seats for buffers for the ladies.

At Julia’s funeral, the few Negroes, badly outnumbered, had stood to one side. Here we few whites, badly outnumbered, stood apart, as though everyone had agreed to the custom that the races must be separate. Other than my own family, and the Wilkies, I didn’t know any of the other white people. I stood between Irene and Gordon, with Leon and Denise to my left. A hot breeze moved the veils on women’s hats and billowed out the preacher’s robes. From some distance came the sounds of traffic as the world went on its heedless way.

Terrence stood behind his Aunt Ruby, looking across the grave to me. While the pastor spoke, Terrence’s line of vision never faltered from my face, and mine never left his. Leon followed his gaze, and he turned to give me a hard look, which I ignored. I stared at Terrence Dexter, at his beloved face that I might never see again. I called on every L’Oiseau d’Or principle, on every bit of panache that Julia had taught me; I feared I might tremble or faint from the heat. I could not, I must not cry, because if I started crying, I knew I’d never stop. I reminded myself over and over, I am Roxanne Granville, named for the heroine of a great play.