“How would you describe Nick Gather?”

Father John Jacobs, a Catholic priest stood in front of the pulpit in the viewing room, the guests, visitors, and family far exceeding the room’s maximum capacity. It was warm for the second day in May in Missouri. The central air conditioner unit barely kept the room cool enough for the older folks. The younger ones, specifically all those attending Missouri State University, friends of the deceased young man, sucked it up. Most of the classrooms at MSU were on the warm side. Whether that was the fault of the university President for poor budgeting or facilities management was up for debate, especially among the students. Most blamed the aging buildings. Whatever the case, the unit at the funeral parlor was less than ideal for the number of people present.

Like many of her fellow students, Sandy attended the funeral because Nick was what people called ‘good people.’ She and Trent felt obligated to show up, especially since they were less than four blocks away when it happened. She and Trent sat in the third row, one pew back from Dr. Fredrik Gather and his ex-wife, Dr. Catherine Ramano.

When Nick entered a room, you didn’t need any light. He managed to light it up with his easygoing nature and laughter. Some would call the laugh infectious; it was a magnet for complete strangers! Everyone wanted to know who this guy was. Nick’s knack for making people feel valued and self-worth was the kind of person everyone wanted to be close to, at least for a minute or two.

Father Jacobs concluded his speech, saying, “Nick Gather? You will be missed.” He sat on one of four chairs at the front of the viewing room reserved for clergy and anyone deemed worthy to speak to those mourning him. Nick’s mother and father, wealthy and divorced ten years earlier, refused to let anyone except Father Jacobs speak. They didn’t want anyone to remember Nick with tears, choosing instead to keep the casket closed. The accident mutilated his body. Not even the best makeup artist would serve the family well, even with the money they could’ve spent on reconstructing his face and body.

Trying to maintain a somber composure, Trent decided it best to excuse himself before bursting out in laughter. Dr. Ramano’s hat, a pristine white wide-brimmed bonnet, had the blackest spot on the edge of the backside of the brim – bird poop. As proper as Nick’s mother was, to have that on her hat would’ve infuriated her, something Trent found hilarious!

Pushing his way out of the middle of the pew, stepping on Sandy’s foot as he passed by, he grabbed her hand, doing his best to yank her out of the service. Losing her balance, Sandy landed on four sorority girls, all dressed in a fashion similar to Dr. Ramano. Gina, Heather, Milli, and Sara J. gave her the stink eye, a look perfected by the Tri Delta Omega Sorority. Something about hanging out together must’ve permitted them to act snotty toward anyone who wasn’t ‘in’ their club, except the brothers of Phi Delta Theta.

Sandy glared at Trent, squeezing his hand as he pulled her outside.

“Brrr!” Sandy exclaimed, voice quivering. Rubbing her arms vigorously, she did her best, chasing goosebumps erupting like tiny mountains on her pale white arms. Skin-to-skin friction didn’t seem to help much.