Chapter 32
Cora
It seems like the sadness is even harder to handle with him being gone. There's nothing that will serve as a distraction for me today, and I think that having him come here with me from California was a mistake. It was a bandage, not a solution, and after spending even more time with him, I feel an even greater loss with him gone.
I've avoided opening my eyes despite being awake for at least fifteen to twenty minutes. I can feel the pain behind my eyelids, and I know this morning will be no different from the others. Since getting back home after hearing the horrible news about Sadie, I spend every night chasing after her in my dreams, reaching out to her, and losing her right before I'm able to pull her into my arms and keep her safe.
I can't count the number of times I've woken with wetness still on my cheeks.
Last night, my nightmares changed and it was Eddie I was reaching for. He taunted my inability to catch him the exact same way Sadie did in my dreams.
Sadie's taunts have always been a reflection of memories from chasing her around the yard when she was little. Even her voice in my dreams is childlike and playful like it was all those years ago before her behavior changed. I know my subconscious is trying to cling to a version of her that fits easiest into my grief, but when I wake I know better.
I know my sister was not an innocent child who made good decisions and had others' best interests in mind. I know she was troubled and caused problems just to watch people react. I know she did those things because she ached for attention and didn't really know how to ask for it. It's possible she didn't have enough of a grasp on her reality to know what she was missing in life.
Regardless of why and how she acted, she didn't deserve to die, and now that I know William wasn't involved, I want to know who hurt my sister. Who despised her so much that they took it upon themselves to hire someone to kill her?
Did she make the wrong person mad?
Did she threaten to share a secret that could ruin someone's life or career?
I know this to be a specialty of hers because she threatened it with us as often as we would tell her no when she came around asking for money.
It doesn't absolve my guilt in the slightest, but I'll seek to find out who hurt her until the end of my own days if that's what it takes.
As I predicted, my eyelids feel like sheets of sandpaper against my eyes when I manage to open them.
I know I have to face today just like I did that first day after being told about Sadie, only this time I have to do it with my distraught little brother. I would take all of his pain if I could, but since that isn't possible, I know a good breakfast will help ease that same ache in his soul.
I shower and wash my face twice before dressing for the day and heading downstairs.
I'm surprised to see Christopher already in the kitchen sitting at the bar with an omelet sitting in front of him.
I know that Faye had to have made it for him because the man has never figured out how to cook without causing a small fire. I worry about him at school, but he always assures me that the food they have on campus is decent enough that he won't die from eating it.
"Hey," I whisper when I approach.
His eyes are as red as the ones that stared back at me in the mirror not long ago.
"How are you holding up?"
He simply shakes his head, tears forming on his bottom lashes. "I’m not."
I rub his back. I don't say anything because there's nothing someone could say to me to make it better. I don't feel the need to share my own pain as if I need to one-up him on the grief meter. This isn't a competition, but I still feel like I'm somehow getting the short end of the stick.
I don't mind being the shoulder for him to lean on, but where's my shoulder? Who can I rely on to hold me and tell me everything will be okay?
I know I made the right decision to pull the cameras. I wasn't lying when I told whoever might be on the other side watching that we needed time to grieve, I just didn't realize how hard that would be while feeling all alone.
It took less than a week of spending time with Eddie for me to grow accustomed to him being here, to his smiles and the way he watches me as if he's ready to jump in at any moment if I start to crumble.
I feel like I need him now more than ever, and knowing I may never see him again because his work here is done seems to amplify my pain.
I also don't know how long the lie will last.
Is it possible that the fake story of her overdosing will be the real story? Is my little sister's legacy to be her dying from drug use and not that someone had her killed?
Would that even be possible if there's an arrest in her case?
I know either way isn't a story the family will want to be told, but it'll be someone opposed to William being in office that would leak the story to the press, and they'd have a field day over such a scandal. Even if William isn't involved, I know how easily a story can be twisted enough for a conspiracy theory to take hold.
"What are you thinking?"
"Hmm?" I ask, clearing my head of all the what-ifs so I can focus on the present for the time being.
"You seemed lost," Chris whispers as he uses his fork to push his food around his plate, seeming to have no interest in actually eating.
"I think I am a little lost," I confess with a sad smile. "I don't know what to do."
"From the sounds of it, William has it all under control like usual," he mutters with a hint of the anger he showed when he yelled at our brother for being so insensitive last night.
"I think he feels like he has to be strong for us," I say in William's defense, wishing he would've gotten upset in front of both of us last night so there wouldn't be this hint of bitterness in Chris's tone.
"How is that even possible?" he asks with a hitch in his voice as if he's near the point of crying all over again. "She was our sister, and now she's gone."
I lean into him, pulling him to my chest, wishing that I could ease this for him, and it kills me to know that I can't.
"I think it might be good if you spoke with someone," I urge.
He pulls back, using the back of his hand to dash away his tears as he looks up at me.
"Like a therapist?"
"It might help," I continue. "Maybe even a guidance counselor at school?"
He scoffs as he stands with his plate, carrying it to the sink. I frown when he puts it in the basin without scraping the food into the garbage disposal. He has always been so absent minded about the work he creates for others, but instead of chastising him this time, I'll just clean up after him. He deserves a little grace with the news he has just gotten.
"Do you think William would be okay with me speaking to a stranger about family issues?" he asks.
"We could find someone on the approved list," I offer instead because he has a valid point.
As much as we probably both need to speak to someone in order to manage our grief, we also have to keep in mind that regardless of professional responsibility, there are people out there who could leak family business for the right price.
"I think I'm going to head back to school," he says.
"Are you sure? You don't have to. I'm sure they'll be lenient— "
"I need something to take my mind off all of this," he says waving his hand around to encompass the entire house as if it is part of the reason our sister is dead.
Maybe he's right. Maybe the way we were raised and the expectation that we all appear perfect was the catalyst that forced Sadie to act the way she did. How would her life have ended up if she had grown up in a family that wasn't subjected to such criticism and high tenets?
"Is that selfish?" he asks. "I don't know that just going forward with my life, like going to class and making plans with friends is the best way to honor her."
I know exactly where he's coming from and the guilt he must be feeling. I feel it every time I wish Eddie was around.
"I think it's what we have to do," I say. "We can grieve her while still looking to the future."
I swallow down a ball of emotion as more tears threaten with an intense burn behind my eyes.
"You'll call me if you need anything?" I say, letting him know it's okay to keep on with life.
"Of course," he says as he walks closer and wraps his arms around me in a tight hug that I didn't know I needed until I was in the middle of it. "You'll do the same?"
I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze him until he grunts with the pressure of holding him too tight.
"I will," I assure him, giving him the best smile I can manage when he takes a step back and looks down at me. "Let me know when you make it back, so I know you're safe."
He dips his head in agreement before shuffling away.
Not long after I hear the garage door opening so Chris can leave, Faye makes her way into the kitchen.
"Where's the boy?"
"He went back to school," I say, sad that it's only the two of us in the house again.
"He's much too old for school," she says, making me realize she's asking about Eddie, not Chris. I wonder, not for the first time, if her mind isn't growing as old as her poor body is.
"Mr. Yarrow had to return to work. He'll no longer be staying with us."
"And what is he going to do about you?"
She shuffles to the fridge, reaching for a bottle of whiskey despite the fact that it's before ten in the morning.
I don't say a word. Hell, the amber liquid in the glass looks like a perfect solution for how I'm feeling, but I don't ask for a drink when she pours her own.
"How will he tell you he loves you if he's not here?"
"I don't—That's not—" I stop arguing with her because it doesn't seem like she's paying me any attention to begin with.
"If you're not going to eat your breakfast, at least dispose of it properly," she says as she walks past, glancing at the sink.
"You made that breakfast for Chris," I argue, finding that I'm annoyed that she is accusing me of something I didn't do.
"I think I'd know if I saw your brother. He always put me in a bad mood, hateful thing that he is."
I tilt my head, further confused.
Maybe her mind is slipping. She doesn't remember making breakfast? She's getting William and sweet Christopher confused.
"I'll take care of it," I assure her just as she leaves the room with her morning glass of whiskey.
As I scrape the food into the garbage disposal and wash the plate and silverware, I wonder if it isn't time to seek out someone to come and help her. She seems to need someone here to look after her. I worry she'll end up hurting herself or possibly leaving the stove on and setting the house on fire, and isn't that just what this family needs, another tragedy?