I might miss him a little bit more.” Her smile was wreathed in sadness; her voice wilted as she gestured toward the urn. “This was just his body. His soul will live on—that funny, warm, incredibly generous, fiercely competitive, adventurous, wondrous soul. We all knew him once, and therefore, when we live life to its fullest, strip it naked and pour it to the brim, rich and overflowing, then he will live on in each of us, until we meet again.”
The priest stumbled on the “Amen,” but Inq was already leaving the podium.
Antony and the long-haired woman helped escort her to her seat as the priest gave instructions about where the reception would be held. The other guests rose and gathered their things. More kisses. More talking. More handshakes and hugs. Joy was surprised to see that many of the Cabana Boys had brought someone with them, often female, but then again, she knew that Inq wasn’t big into monogamy. There was lots of comforting. Joy squeezed Ink’s hand again, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“No,” Joy said and dabbed her eyes. “But I will be.” Ilhami offered her a last tissue. She took it. “Thanks.”
Ilhami nodded, eyes red-rimmed, and Joy wondered if he was crying or high. He sniffed and straightened his lapels.
“I’ll see you at the funeral,” he said.
Joy frowned. Definitely high. She tried not to be angry with the young Turkish artist. Enrique had loved his brother lehman, despite his habits, but Joy still hadn’t forgiven him for the terrifying trip to Ladybird’s. “We’re at the funeral,” she said quietly.
Ilhami sniffed again with a little laugh. “This? For Enrique? I don’t think so.” He nodded politely to Ink and tapped Joy’s shoulder. “See you there.”
He walked down the row only to be grabbed by Nikolai, who hugged him so fiercely, he nearly lifted the smaller man off the floor. They pounded on each other’s backs as Ink helped Joy to stand.
“Thirty-seven,” Ink said.
“What?” Joy looked up.
“Types of hugs,” he explained as the Cabana Boys embraced. “I have been counting subtle differences as separate variations.” He tilted his head to one side. “Why do they hit each other?”
“I don’t know,” Joy said, wiping her eyes. “But don’t try that one with me.”
“How about this one?” Ink gathered her around the shoulders. Her arms circled his body, and she leaned against him, warm and solid. She took several deep breaths of him and calm, life-giving air. She was alive. Ink was alive. He was here, holding her.
She rocked in his arms for a long moment before whispering, “Which one is this?”
“Number sixteen,” he said. Joy smiled.
“It’s perfect.”
He breathed into her hair. “I am learning,” he said, drawing her closer, sounding sad and lost. “But I wish I did not have to learn this lesson so soon.”
Joy said nothing as they slowly broke apart, and she picked up her purse. “Come on,” she said and made her way toward Inq, who was accepting a hug from an older couple, the last stragglers in the room. As they left, Joy stepped forward and gave Inq a hug, too.
“I’m sorry,” she said, because that was what people said at funerals.
Inq nodded. “I’m sorry, too.” Her smile seemed to wobble as she tucked a stray bit of brown hair behind Joy’s ear. “Stupid fragile humans.” She laughed a little and slid her fingers along her string of pearls. Her gaze switched to Ink. He gave his sister a kiss on the cheek, and they rested their foreheads together for a long, quiet moment. Inq blinked and raised her head.
“Thank you,” she said, although Ink hadn’t said anything at all.
“Ink?”
The long-haired woman crossed the room and took Ink into her arms like an old friend. He hugged her politely, not at all like he’d held Joy. He was learning, but his hand lingered on the small of the woman’s back. Joy figured they still had to work on exits.
“Joy, this is Raina,” he said. “Raina, I would like you to meet Joy.”
Raina was stunning—all long limbs and shining black hair and deeply tanned skin. Her smile was winning, radiant, haloed in shimmering gold lipstick.
Joy smiled timidly and held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Raina ignored the hand and hugged her, comfortably and sincerely. Her copious hair smelled warm and tropical, as if she’d just flown in from someplace exotic. It parted over her shoulder in a long, glossy sheet, like in a Pantene commercial.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Joy,” she said, pulling back, yet still holding both of Joy’s hands. “I am only sorry that it is under such sad circumstances.”
Joy’s brain struggled to remember where she’d heard the woman’s name before while politely trying to extricate her fingers from the strong, lingering touch. Raina seemed to sense her discomfort and let go as she reached out to stroke Inq’s shoulder. Raina stood very close, as if oblivious to personal boundaries.
“Enrique was the finest among us,” Raina said. “A true treasure.”
Joy felt a frown, but didn’t let it show. Us? Joy could see that Raina was human, her Sight able to pierce things like glamours and the veil. Was Raina being figurative? Or was she like Mr. Vinh, someone with a foot in both worlds? Joy glanced between Ink and Inq, trying to guess. How much does this woman know?
Inq smiled and smoothed a hand over Raina’s hair. “He was a handsome boy with the shiniest toys and was a lion in bed, and I will miss him greatly.” Raina gave Inq’s hand a squeeze, eyes full of sympathy.
“I’ll see you after the reception,” Raina said, and she slipped her arm smoothly into the crook of Ink’s elbow. Joy stared at it. Then stared at them. They made a striking couple. “Mind walking me to my car?” she asked, steering him down the aisle. Raina smiled warmly over her shoulder. “It was nice meeting you, Joy.”
And together, she and Ink walked out of the room.
Joy stared numbly—dumbly—after them.
What just happened?
“I need to talk to you,” Inq said, taking Joy’s hand and tugging her closer to the urn. The smell of lilies was overwhelming. Joy’s brain was trying to keep up.
“But...” Joy tried to catch a glimpse of where Ink had gone—with Raina—outside, rewinding time in her mind, sifting through facts like Ink, Enrique, death, numbered hugs, black hair, white lilies and hooked elbows. She struggled to find the puzzle piece that made everything fit, the missing key to making this moment make sense. It wasn’t working.
Joy sneezed.
“Hello? Earth to Joy?”
Grabbing another tissue, she turned to Inq. “What is it?”
