Chapter 57
Chapter Fifty-Seven
HAPPILY EVER AFTER
Bancroft
I hate how many people are here, people I’ve never even heard of. It was one thing for them to be at the actual funeral service, but this is our house. This is where she lived. This is my space. And the more people traipse through these rooms they will soak up all the smell of her. I can hear them downstairs, I can see them through the window in the backyard, a few of them gathered by the patch of basil that has nearly overtaken everything. The story she always told about my dad, where in that moment she knew she’d love him forever, the story that has undoubtably fucked me up when it comes to believing in love, because lets face it, they were fucking perfect and even that didn’t guarantee them an ending.
I sit on the floor with my back braced against the foot of my bed and take a deep breath inhaling the warmth of the cardigan I’m wearing that I took from her closet this morning. I stretch the sleeves to cover more of my hands and squeeze them tightly like I can conjure the feeling of her hand holding mine. It’s unfair that she spent her whole life comforting me, and now in the moment I need that comfort most, she isn’t here. That the person I need most now, is my mother. And she’s the only person I can’t have.
There is a gentle knock at the door and it creaks open as I peer around the bedpost to see who it is.
He looks exhausted in a way I’ve never seen, and it scares me a little bit. He knows as well as I do, it’s just us now, and neither one of us could replace the massive void for the other. It’s not a void. It’s a full blown black hole and everything that should bring me joy gets sucked in never to be seen again. I wipe the tears from my eyes, that are more boiling hot with fury than just sadness. Maybe it would be better if I could just be sad, but he’s sad enough for the both of us.
He takes a seat next to me on the floor.
“You should eat something, Bancroft,” he says as he hands me a small plate of mixed appetizers from the reception happening downstairs.
“Thanks, Sterling,” I say to him, as I always do. Even in this moment, there is something comforting about pretending things are the same. And even though I have his eyes, his height, and his aversion to pickles, for as long as I can remember, I’ve called him by his name.
We both hear the voices outside the door, no doubt it’s my grandparents. I know the boom of his voice anywhere, and so does my dad.
The door swings open, and we both duck our heads as Grandpa Sterling does a quick sweep of the room looking for one or both of us. But misses what’s right in front of him as he shuts the door and we hear him say ‘can’t find him’ and stomp off.
They may not be at odds the way I’ve heard stories of before, but that doesn’t mean on a day like today, he’s the person either of us will find comfort in. There’s something about it, maybe the act of hiding, that makes us both laugh in a way that feels unnatural. I can see it on his face, that it hurts him. Because it’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh in weeks. And maybe worse, because I know I laugh like she did.
“Shouldn’t you be with everyone downstairs?” I ask as I wrap a piece of prosciutto around a slice of brie.
“Should? Maybe,” he says as he reaches for my plate making the same combination bite. “But there’s only one thing that matters now, and we can stay here all day. Just the two of us.”
My eyes fill with tears faster that I can even try to control.
The two of us.
It wasn’t supposed to be the two of us.
They were the pair. It was always so clear how much they loved each other beyond any sense of reality. And they loved me, too. I know that. But we-two, are the wrong two. She was my best friend, and she was his. So now we both just have each other? Second string? It’s not fair.
“I can’t do this.” Without my mother I feel alone. A type of alone I didn’t know existed. He pulls me into a hug and I cry on his shoulder. I miss her, it hasn’t been a week, and I miss her. I miss her from my future, the one every girl is promised. I can tell by his breathing he is also in tears, he’s never hidden them from me.
“It’s alright, sweetheart. It will be alright,” he whispers. He shushes softly into my hair as he rubs my cashmere covered back. But the tears are coming in a way he is absorbing completely.
“No matter what else is going on, who else is around, we are an impenetrable force. If you can’t handle something, I can, I will. Okay? We can do this.” His voice cracks ever so slightly before hardening in a way to prove that he means it, swallowing down the pain for me.
“You and me,” he says, so softly, “we’re on the same team.”