Amy Russo (Morning of September 13, 1983)
Friends and family from all over Freehold, even from the state of New Jersey, gathered around, in the cemetery, to remember Olivia Grace. Many cried; some put on a brave face. Either way, it was an emotional morning for the community.
After the pastor finished his touching sermon and everyone, who was supposed to, gave their eulogies, the rest of us were told to toss a handful of dirt onto the casket as they dropped in down, six feet below. As I was throwing my handful, I glanced up and noticed Joey, being comforted by Louise, of all people. I had a bone to pick with that, but not today.
The ceremony concluded soon enough and it had, at last, been time for all to go back into the funeral home to eat away our feelings. While in the food line, I saw that just a couple people ahead of me were Joey and Mrs. Weston, having it out.
“Don’t think just because my husband invited you here today that I want anything to do with your sorry ass,” Sally told him.
“How many times do I have to get it through your thick ass skull that I didn’t do this?” Joey voiced, loud enough for the entire to hear.
“Hey, have either of you guys tried Tina’s potato salad?” I stepped in between the two. “It’s a family recipe; it’s super good.”
“When this autopsy report comes back in tomorrow and proves your guilt,” Sally continued, completely ignoring me. “We’re taking Addie and I hope to God that you rot in that prison cell.”
There was a brief moment of unnerving silence amongst them. Soon enough, Mrs. Weston went one way and Joey, another. I had chased after Joey, not even caring if Ivan had seen me.
Outside, Joe sat down on a bench, underneath an old magnolia tree. I watched from afar as he fiddled with one of its fallen leaves.