9
The next morning, Sam covered for me at the store so I could attend the service for Professor Zimm. As much as I hated to ask him, Olive spent Mondays volunteering at the LGBT+ youth center in Albany, and I needed to go. He must have sensed something when we spoke, because he agreed immediately, no questions asked. Or maybe he could tell how important it was because I called instead of texting. Either way, sympathy filled Sam’s voice when he assured me he’d be fine at the store for a few hours, and he’d see me whenever I made it. Told me to take the whole day off if necessary.
I didn’t want to be here, to mingle with Professor Zimm’s friends and family, to meet her husband. Funerals were weird and terrible. Sure, in my twenty-one years on this planet, I hadn’t been to many, and the las
