Chapter 21—A Way Out
A memorial service took place only a handful of days after Kirk’s death. Lydia had nothing respectful or dark to wear. Her wardrobe consisted of casual clothes, half of which she needed to wash. When she asked Wren about finding a black dress or something appropriate to wear, she showed Lydia a clothing outlet in the dormitories, right next to the laundry room. She was able to find a dress in her size.
“It’s all free,” Wren explained to her. “You can borrow anything you want as long as you bring it back clean and washed after you wear it.”
That was a relief for Lydia. The early September nights had proved to be colder than she’d expected. The outlet had plenty of sweaters and warmer clothing that she’d be sure to stock up on.
Wren had her hair trimmed for the memorial, so Lydia was pleased to learn about the dormitories’ barbershop. The Cave really did have everything.
Together with Jando and Donny, the girls attended the memorial in their chosen black dresses. The entrance to the religious sector was a brightly illuminated hallway that spread out the choices of worship centers like a buffet, with each religion’s name and its leader on plaques above the doorways. In turn, each worship center had a small number of rooms catering to different functions of that religion.
The entire population of the Cave came to the service for Kirk, and the sanctuary just managed to hold the audience of a little over two hundred. At the front of the sanctuary was a pulpit next to a picture of Kirk, wreathed in flowers. Sitting behind the pulpit were Arthur, Barrett, and several others whom Lydia didn’t recognize.
One was a woman with rich, shimmering shoulder-length raven hair encasing her tanned neck. She was breathing slow and hard. Tears trickled intermittently down her cheeks. She wiped them away, trying to appear stoic. When everyone had been seated, she approached the pulpit. From her dress sleeve, she produced a folded piece of paper and flattened it. It took several tries for her to become coherent. She looked out over the audience and said, “Kirk,” but each time it came out as a squeak. “Who is that?” Lydia asked Wren in a whisper, during one of the pauses.
“Sylvia,” Wren said. “Kirk’s fiancée. They were together for a long time. Really in love, too. She was the one who read that announcement about his death. From what I hear, she insisted on reading it.”
Lydia felt immense pity for Sylvia. She couldn’t imagine losing someone so close, and her heart went out to her.
“Kirk was a great agent,” Sylvia finally blurted out. Once that hump was crossed, the speech progressed more smoothly. “He had his quirks and faults, sure. Everyone knew that he could be too careless and laid-back. It nearly cost us a few missions. Like how he forgot some equipment a couple of times. Or how he once forgot our target’s address. But he’d improvise and we would succeed in our mission.” She shook her head, her slight hiccups intermingling with laughter. “At the same time, it was hard to stay mad at him, even when things didn’t turn out well. Almost every argument he took as a joke and you’d end up busting a gut instead of yelling.”
Sylvia took a deep breath. She looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. “Yet no matter what, Kirk was dedicated to his job, his friends, and everyone he knew. He made a habit of helping everyone he could, however small the problem.” She paused for a second, looking down and gripping the pulpit until her knuckles were white.
Arthur walked over to her. He put his hands on her shoulders and whispered in her ear. Sylvia held up a hand and shook her head, mouthing “No,” over and over. He released her and sat back down. She dabbed her eyes and faced the audience. “He was the best kind of agent—the best kind of person—who it’s been my pleasure to know. And I couldn’t ask for a better love. Kirk was a great man, a great partner, and a great influence on us all. I can’t imagine what my life would’ve been if I hadn’t met him. The world is a little darker without his fire in it, but I think he kindled enough in all of us that he is still with us in spirit.”
After she sat down, a couple of other people reminisced about Kirk, but Lydia focused on Sylvia. With the spotlight off her, the woman allowed her tears to fall. However, Lydia tried to focus on the other speakers, thinking it would be disrespectful to stare when Sylvia was grieving.
“So she’s a BEP, too?” Lydia asked Wren.
“Yeah, she’s deaf. She picks up sound waves, vibrations, and all noise through them.” She tapped her own fingers.
Barrett was brief in her speech, talking about how reckless Kirk could be. “When I first saw him as my patient, he had burns all over his body, but none of them bad. From that day forth, he became a regular visitor. It was never a simple checkup for Kirk as a boy. Oh no, he was always getting in trouble, fights, or doing something stupid. Sometimes I think he intentionally hurt himself just to have an excuse to see me. Maybe to keep me on my toes. Not that it stopped when he was an adult,” she said, earning several laughs. “We got to know each other well and he was one of our best agents.” She sat down, sniffing a little.
Arthur was the last to talk. His eyes were wet, but no tears cascaded down his cheeks. Unlike the others who wept, he appeared drained of all tears. His face was heavy and morose. He looked out over the crowd, clearing his throat. “Kirk was one of the first BEPs I ever dealt with. When I first met him almost sixteen years ago, I thought I knew everything there was to dealing with BEPs, after I’d worked for so long under my predecessor. I was wrong. Kirk was always surprising me in some way or another. He was also one of the best agents we’ve ever had, volunteering for the task as soon as he was old enough. He said he wanted to be an agent because he wanted to ensure that people like you would be safe. That people like you would have help for your abilities and let you know that you weren’t alone.”
He looked down, tapping the pulpit. “He embodied everything we desire in our agents: loyalty, dedication, honesty, integrity, courage, and skill. But he brought so much more to the table than I could ever ask for: goodwill, laughter, cheer, and a big heart. I’m glad to have known him and I think—like everyone else he touched, I’m sure—he made our lives great. I couldn’t ask for a better agent, a better friend, than Kirk.”
The memorial service ended, but everyone lingered to chat or offer condolences to those closest to Kirk. Lydia was of the latter, finding Sylvia before she was lost to the crowd. Lydia leaned over to Wren. “If Sylvia hears through her fingers, do I need to speak into her hand for her to hear me?”
Wren shook her head. “Nope. She hears just as well as you or me. Better in some cases. Although if she can’t hear someone, for whatever reason, she’s able to read lips.” Lydia nodded and went off in search of Sylvia. The woman was hanging her head and playing with a gorgeous engagement ring on her finger.
“Excuse me,” Lydia said, catching the woman off guard. Up close, she noticed that Sylvia’s onyx eyes were puffy and her makeup smeared. But even in mourning she was a pretty woman. It wasn’t hard to see why Kirk had proposed to her.
“Yes?” Sylvia asked. Her stern façade was broken, now that she was no longer the center of attention. She continued to twist her ring back and forth.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Lydia said. “I can only imagine what you’re going through.”
Sylvia blew her nose and offered a small smile. “Thank you. Did you know Kirk well?”
“Only a little,” Lydia said. “I met him the night before he left. He seemed like a good guy.”
“He was that,” she said, agreeing. “So you’re Lydia.”
“Yes.”
“I see. Thank you again. If you’ll excuse me.” She left her chair, navigating her way out of the crowd. Lydia watched Sylvia until she disappeared among the sea of black. Then the girl headed back to find Wren and the others.
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