Getting High With The Most High

The rain doesn’t affect the proceedings of the day since the funeral is taking place at the lighthouse cathedral; one of the largest churches in the city. The weather is in sync with the mood of the mourners. Black limos overshadow the street outside and the church is filled up now with over a hundred people.

“Sienna Behrt-Lehman was a friend to all”,

“Sienna Behrt-Lehman was a supportive wife, a doting mother, and a builder of her community. She had influence everywhere she went”.

The loud sound of thunder intercepts the voice of the catholic priest as he delivers the eulogy. In the front row of the congregation is Arthur Behrt-Lehman; husband to the deceased, Darius; the first son, Dustin; the youngest son and Dash; the middle child.

Maybe it’s the evident sound of rain from outside or the overwhelming number of nameless, faceless people in this place but, in an instant, Lenny is taken away from the moment and transported back to 12 years ago.

It had been a rainy day just like this one only that the funeral was held at the cemetery. Black umbrellas and a small crowd of only about 20 people yet, 12-year-old Lenny couldn’t recognize any of their faces except Mr. Sanchez who she knew to be her father’s boss, and Uncle Ross, her father’s oldest friend. Lenny and Lynn were in the front line of the crowd, each one standing by one side of their mother. Her mother had a huge umbrella that was supposed to protect all three of them from the rain but, rain still managed to drip off one side of the umbrella and onto Lenny. It didn’t matter. Rain was finding ways to drop onto several other people too. None of it mattered. Her father was being put into the ground. Her father; her best friend. Lenny had accepted even as a toddler that her mother preferred Lynn to her but it was okay. She was okay with it because her father was her favorite anyway and so was she to him. Lynn and Mum, Lenny and Dad. But now he is gone. People kept coming up to her mother and saying - ‘sorry for your loss.' and asking - ‘how are you holding up?’ then they’d say hi to her and Lynn and be on their way. No one had asked her how she was holding up even though she was the one who found him. She was the one who saw his lifeless body first - lying face down in the garage with a gaping bullet wound by the side of his head.

“The grave is but a covered bridge, leading from light to light, through brief darkness, and unto a new life. A new life with our maker”, the catholic priest is saying but, all Lenny can hear is the roaring sound of rain and she can feel it too. Dripping, dripping, dripping from the umbrella onto her hair. She catches herself shivering and knows she can’t be here any longer.

She scoots over as quietly as she can making sure she draws no attention to herself. She only has two people separating her seat from the edge of the row so it’s easy for her to get through and use the edge to make her exit rather than the middle. She walks away from the general hall where the congregation is gathered and makes her way toward the inner rooms. It’s a narrow hallway with multiple doors on each side but she can't see anyone labeled bathroom which is what she was hoping for. That must be on the other wing of the church. Her hands are shaking and she’s still shivering as she attempts to open one of the doors. It’s locked. She tries another and another and another but they're all locked. She’s about to turn back and head out of the church, into her car and drive far away from here when she sees it. The third door on the left is slightly ajar. She progresses cautiously toward it in suspicion that someone is in there.

“Hello?”, she whispers but no one answers. She pushes the door further open to see that it’s empty. Once she heads in, she tries to lock it behind her but notices that the lock is damaged. No wonder it was open. Her hands reach for the hat on her head and fling it off, unbuttoning the collar button of her dress, and then she slumps to the ground and begins to count.

“1,2,3,4,5,6……”, she’s counting and sobbing at the same time and groans in frustration because the counting is not working. It never does. She briskly wipes her tears and reaches for her purse. Her shaky hands draw out a cigarette from the pack and she has to empty her purse on the floor to find her lighter. She tries to light it severally but fails and she’s about to toss the whole thing at the wall when she finally gets it to light. She takes a long drag and as she inhales the nicotine, she involuntarily relaxes. With each breath, she feels the shivers leaving and the flashbacks fading away. All those years ago when she started smoking Lynn had told her - ‘It doesn’t help. You’re killing yourself, Lenny’. And she did try to stop but, now and then she felt a panic attack coming on, and she would go through a pack. Like today.

After a few minutes, she’s up on her feet and only now observing the room around her. It’s filled with paintings of Jesus hanging on the walls and there’s no bed but there are two sofas, a desk, and a mirror. She’s looking at herself in the mirror, adjusting her now messy hair and cleaning her mascara-stained face while still holding her cigarette and taking occasional hits. She hears the footsteps approaching but, before her brain can react, the door is already flung open and she spins around to lock eyes with the person; probably a priest who has caught her lighting up in the lord’s house. It’s not a priest. It’s Dash Behrt-Lehman and just like her; he looks like he doesn’t want to be in this building either. Their eyes linger on each other for a few seconds and then his gaze drops down to the cigarette in her hand.

“I’m uh. I’m sorry I shouldn’t be doing this here”, she flutters in the face of judgment and is about to stub it out when to her surprise he extends his hand out and enters the room completely;

“Can I have a hit?”, he asks and his voice sounds hoarse and throaty as if he had lost it from yelling. She walks towards him and hands it to him. It’s funny he unbuttons his collar button and seats on the floor just where she had been a few minutes ago. It feels like a private moment and she decides to leave but, compassion prompts her to check in on him first;

“I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure you’ve already heard that a thousand times”, he raises his brows to mean yes and then hands the cigarette back to her. This time she stubs it out and tosses it in the trash can.

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?”, she asks;

“I’m not. What gave it away?”He attempts to be lighthearted but they only share a sad chuckle at that.

“What about you, why are you hiding in here?”, he’s still seated on the floor and she’s standing next to him.

“I’m not even sure why I’m here. I feel like an intruder. I didn’t know her…..at all”,

“Yet you look like you’ve been crying and you’re smoking to calm your nerves'', he says casually as he dips his hands into his pocket and brings out a tiny wallet. Inside it, he brings out a rolled joint and a lighter. He lights it in his mouth as he speaks;

“We’ve met before haven’t we?”, he takes a drag of his joint and then offers it to her. She accepts it even though she probably shouldn’t and then finally decides not to leave. Instead, she seats on the nearest sofa.

“Yeah. I didn’t think you’d remember”, even though Dash works for his father’s company, he was hardly ever around and often attended inter-relationships with company partners and associates which meant he was hardly ever in the city. However, a few months ago when he was in the city, he had shown up to the office and they had briefly met before he was whisked away for his duties.

“Oh, I never forget a face. Lenny isn’t it? Lenny Monroe”, she’s beyond surprised that he remembers her full name. She only remembers telling him her first name when they met and not her full name. She shrugs it off and keeps the conversation going;

“Yeah”, she giggles and can’t tell if it’s the marijuana getting to her or if it’s the natural reaction to this hunk of a man remembering her full name. Hunk? Lenny didn’t think in words like ‘hunk’, it was the marijuana talking.

“Fuck. I can’t believe she’s gone, you know? I close my eyes and I see her, I hear her voice….I can smell her perfume from the jacket I was wearing the last time we hugged, you know? And everything is already falling apart with her absence and I……I’m sorry I’m bothering you with all this shit-”,

“No. It’s fine. I promise. Just get it all out”, she says from the sofa as she takes another hit before passing it to him; “I’m your stoner therapist”. That gets a genuine chuckle out of him. He runs his hands through his jet-black hair, pushing away the hair from his face. Something about that motion reminds Lenny of Hannah.

“What do you mean everything is falling apart?”Lenny asks in a bid to allow him to rant and let out his frustrations. She had always wanted to try talking to a therapist but it just never made sense for her to be spending all that money on therapy when she still lives in a card box with a toddler that is a money-sucking machine.

“My dad is retiring. He doesn’t know how to do any of this without her. And that puts me in a very tough position. He wants me to ‘step up and be a man.’ which is all code for getting married and taking over the company”,

“Woah”,

“Right? Why is marriage seen as some badge of honor or proof that someone is ready for the responsibility? You’re not married, Lenny are you?”, she shakes her head no and that affirms his point;

“Exactly! and you seem fine to me. You seem perfectly capable of handling your daily responsibilities. Yet, I have to get married or the CEO position goes to fucking Darius who is going to run us to the fucking ground by the way”.

He sounds agitated but, rather than feel uncomfortable, Lenny is struggling to muffle her chuckles but, she can’t hide it and he notices;

“Are you laughing?”, he asks with a glint of amusement in his eyes. She’s shaking her head no but, it’s obvious that she is. He chuckles and asks;

“What kind of shitty therapist laughs at her patient?”, he’s feigning that he’s offended but his face betrays him, and breaks out in a smile too.

“Okay. Okay. Why don’t you want to get married? I mean if that’s what you need to become CEO right? You can hold auditions, pick a bride, become CEO then file for divorce. Boom”, the idea rolls off her tongue, and even as she’s saying it, she’s suffering from the case of the giggles.

“You are devious, aren’t you? I should have known when I caught you smoking in a priest’s room”,

“Hey, at least I’m trying to help”,

“By telling me to fake a marriage and break some poor girl’s heart. Genius idea, therapist”,

“Arranged marriages are the bread and butter of any flourishing society. You’re probably already used to breaking hearts anyway”, he rolls his eyes at this. Of course, she’d say that. For some reason, people think he’s some playboy that just goes around sleeping with women and disposing of them.

“I don’t break hearts. In fact, I always tell it like it is. Zero promises, zero commitments. Women break their own hearts by expecting me to be something that I’m not”, a second has barely gone by after his statement when the door is flung open and both Lenny and Dash look towards the entrance in apprehension. The priest at the door has a shocked and disgusted expression on his face as his mouth hangs open. Dash stands up and extends a hand to Lenny to pull her up;

“Father…..forgive us for we have sinned”, he says causing Lenny to break out in giggles.

“Leave here now”, the priest sounds like he’s about to fume. They leave the room hand in hand and uncontrollable laughter. By the time they get to the exit of the hallway which leads back to the hall, their laughter dies down and they are reminded why they are here in the first place.

“Ready to go back in there?”, he squeezes her hand and she nods. Their hands finally separate and they head back in. Him to the front row where the rest of his family is seated and her many, many rows behind with the nameless and faceless people.