White Space Season 1

their fury toward his father. But they had to recognize that his family was not responsible for the sins of his father. The shooting certainly wasn’t the execution of some sinister plot set in motion by the Heller family including baby Aubrey, the ringleader.
    The tragedy hadn’t just affected them, it had robbed Alex of a father, his mom of a husband, and his sister of ever knowing her father.
    It was a suck sandwich all around, and no amount of anger would make it any easier to swallow.
    As they had entered the funeral home, Alex glanced back and saw the video cameras targeting his family. Struck with an aching sadness for his mother and sister, he mouthed the words, “I’m sorry” to whoever might be watching them on TV, on the off chance that his message might be well received; that it might soften the pain or dull the wrath of a raging mob.
    As he sat, listening to Pastor Avery speechify forgiveness for thy neighbor, even as he acts against you, Alex had to stifle a laugh.
    Avery should be giving his speech to the people out there, not in here.
    He wondered if God really forgave murderers. Hell, Alex wasn’t even sure if his dad believed in God. And if there were indeed a Hell, then his father was surely burning in it.
    Alex glanced at his mother, wiping tears with a tissue as her eyes were locked on the pastor. Aubrey sat in her lap, sipping from a bottle, oblivious to her dead father sitting in the bottom of a canister, front and center of the room.
    Despite his countless questions of faith, Alex closed his eyes and prayed to a God, who may or not have been up in Heaven, to forgive his father for any sins he’d committed on Earth.
    Please, God. If you’re up there, please forgive my dad. He was one of the kindest people in the world. He was always helping anyone who needed a hand, always setting the needs of his family and students ahead of his own.
    He’s not the monster people think he is.
    He’s good. I swear.
    Alex wondered if the people outside were praying that Roger Heller went straight to Hell, without passing Go or collecting $200.
    He closed his eyes to quell his anger.
    The door opened behind them. Katie and her mother, both dressed in black, made their way into the room, bringing the total to five mourners at Roger Heller’s service, except the pastor and an old man Alex didn’t know.
    So, that’s what? Five people who still care about Roger Heller.
    Not a single friend, neighbor, or coworker could find the same forgiveness that Pastor Avery swore was inside all men and women.
    Katie and her mom approached their row. Alex’s mom leaned over and whispered, “Thank you for coming.”
    Katie’s mom turned to Liz, smiled, then sat two seats from Alex.
    Katie sat beside him, offering her hand. He held her warm hand in his lap, fighting his rising tide of tears.
    The pastor asked if anyone wished to speak on Roger Heller’s behalf.
    Alex turned to his mom, who couldn’t dam her flood of tears. Seeing her shaking, almost violently, while quietly sobbing, was the cold of a knife slipping into the raw red meat of his heart.
    “Come here,” Katie said, reaching toward Aubrey and taking her from Liz.
    Aubrey turned to her mom, her confused expression flickering at the edge of tears.
    Katie distracted her, offering her the bottle. Aubrey took it, then started sucking on the nipple. Pastor Avery asked again if anyone wanted to come to the front and speak on behalf of the departed.
    Alex looked over at Liz, face buried in her palms. He knew she’d been planning to say something, and had even talked a little bit about it on the ride over, trying to gather her courage.
    She could never speak if she couldn’t stop crying.
    Alex stood, then went to the front of the chapel. His father’s urn, an ornate gold-colored container, sat on a pedestal surrounded by wreaths and flowers. Alex wondered if those were the flowers his mother paid for as part of the service or if someone had sent them.
    He met Pastor Avery at the podium. The pastor hugged him, then gave Alex his space, sitting several feet away in the front row of pews.
    Alex’s leg was shaking. He had no idea what to say. Alex had torn pages from his notebook until well past midnight the night before, scribbling ideas for stuff that he might like to say, just in case. In the end, he hated every drop of ink he’d spilled. It all seemed so trite. Yet, as Alex stared out at the eyes of the pastor, his mother, sister, Katie, her mom, and of