Monica was not informed that the ladies were meant to wear dresses. She had come to the brunch wearing one of her favorite t-shirts, a pair of loose-fitting jeans and some flip-flops. None of the ladies seemed to notice, though. She was welcomed with hugs and pats on her back. It was as if they were letting go of Astrid and letting Monica in.

Bethany's eyes were rimmed in red. She had balls of tissues in her fists and sipped on her glass of orange juice while she spoke. "Astrid was like the sunshine. Right, y'all? She made everyone smile. I really don't know how I am supposed to take over the class. It all just came so naturally to her."

"You're going to do just fine," Janet assured her. She was an assistant in a baby room and had been there for almost twenty years. "Until you get the hang of it, it may benefit you to just mirror what Astrid did with the children. You know, until you acquire your own rhythm for the day, the routine."

"That's a really good idea," Tabitha nodded. She had french-braided her greying hair that morning and wore a light blue cardigan over her white summer dress that went down to her ankles. She turned to Monica and said, "You just do what you've always done. You've always been so great with the kids."

Monica observed all the ladies had finished their food. Some of them were on their second or third cups of coffee. Also, the conversation was just going around in loops. Nothing new was being said. Complimentary language was endless about their dead co-worker, and Monica wanted nothing more than to go home. 

She felt shame at the pit of her stomach. She got up from the table and began clearing away the plates and cutlery from the table.

"Thank you, Monica. How thoughtful of you," said Tabitha.

Monica knew her place. She was the new girl all over again, and though they were very accepting of her, she knew how tight-knit of a group these teachers were. She would have to earn her spot at the daycare in more ways than one, especially after the sorrow of Astrid's passing had worn off.

After she collected all of the plates, mugs and cutlery into the sink, she began washing them. The rest of the ladies began tidying up the room. It was actually Tabitha's office that doubled as a sort of break room for the ladies. It had a kitchenette equipped with a sink, microwave, toaster oven and full-size fridge. Over the sink was a large window that looked out onto the lawn with the playground. The oak trees that surrounded it were some of the best things about the place. 

The trees were mighty and tall. Monica just wanted to look at them through the window while she did the dishes. She wondered how those green leaves held onto their wavering branches even when the wind was strong.

The ladies chattered away as they swept crumbs, threw away the plastic containers the food had been bought in, and folded up the table cloths and extra chairs. Some of them had families and children of their own to attend to so they left first. Tabitha hung by the door of the room with Nancy, speaking in whispers. Bethany brushed past Monica as she collected her and Janet's purses from the counter next to her.

"Bye, Monica. See you tomorrow."

"See ya tomorrow," Monica replied. Her eyes remained looking out the window.

Bethany handed Janet her purse and threw her fistful of tissues into the trash. "I still can't get over any of this."

How is anyone supposed to? Astrid just passed away. Monica was rinsing off the suds from one of the plates before resting it in the drying rack. She scrubbed another plate. It was gooey from syrup and caked with congealed egg yolk. 

"That poor, poor girl," said Janet. "None of us saw it coming."

"I know, that's the worst part," nodded Bethany. "That's the part I can't wrap my head around. How she left us. I can't believe she killed herself."

That was it. That was how Astrid exited her life. The clean, soapy plate passed through Monica's fingers and met the floor below, breaking.