JULY 11-12, 1975The days of Matt’s wake and funeral were the worst of my young life. Worse than my father’s abuse. Worse than all the nights I listened to my mother hurt and crying. Worse than the time he threw me against the wall. Worse, even, than watching my father kill my brother.The police had found my brother’s body shortly after I’d told Officers Duffy and Gagnon what had happened. Since he’d only been in the water a short time, the wake was open-casket. Seeing my brother made up like a wax doll in a grotesque parody of sleep was an abomination. It made me angry, not sad.Leah came, hugged me, and said she was sorry, but she was distant, cool. Her father was not with her. Besides my mother, I felt the saddest for Kelly. She was devastated, as only a teenager losing her first love can be. She held me for a long time in the receiving line, shuddering uncontrollably. Mary showed up after Leah and Kelly, and stayed by my side. Everything had changed between the four us, but I d
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