15. Mia
Chapter fifteen
Mia
Will bangs on my door just before seven thirty and my stomach jumps in longing. I’ve been at a work conference all day, and after declaring I can’t bear going out and seeing more people, Will promises he’ll bring dinner to my place. I unlatch the door to him holding a stack of boxes.
“Hi,” I pant, breathless from running down the stairs. “Let me grab that.”
I take the pizza box, then realize it’s precariously balanced on top of a cheesecake.
“Jesus, how were you carrying this?”
We get everything upstairs to the kitchen, and I grab some paper towels and glasses.
“God, I’m starving.” My mouth is watering in anticipation of the first bite of cheesy goodness.
“Here,” I push the box towards Will, then grab a slice for myself. A bottle of wine later, and we move to the couch. I’m facing Will, with the cheesecake box wedged between my crossed legs. He reaches his fork between my legs to take a bite, and I have to push down indecent thoughts about him eating me rather than the cheesecake.
“Gerrard phoned me today. Craig is doing much worse.” I pause, sipping my wine. “They don’t expect him to survive.”
Will’s face softens, and he leans forward.
“God, Mia, I’m so sorry. Are you doing okay?”
It’s a reasonable question, but I feel numb. I haven’t met Craig. Not really. We’ve never had a conversation; we have no shared experiences. We were just born to the same parents, and until a few weeks ago, I hadn’t even known he existed.
“I’m okay. They’re going to hold what Gerrard calls a ‘living memorial’ for him.” I screw up my face. Sounds like a nightmare. “It’s a funeral before he dies. It’s for all the resort staff.”
“I think that’s a nice idea. A good way for people to say goodbye.”
“I guess so. You know, it never occurred to me that he might die.” Well, not until I had that meeting with Bryce. Until then, I hadn’t considered the alternative to him surviving
“Are you going to go?”
“Go where? To the memorial? I don’t think so. I’ve never even met him.” I shake my head. I can’t face the idea of hanging out with a bunch of people who know Craig, especially when I don’t. Besides, there is very little I dislike more than small talk with strangers.
“There’s never going to be a better time for you to get to know about him, Limpet,” Will says softly. “If the people at the resorts like him that much, don’t you think they’ll appreciate having a family member there?”
He has a point. Maybe they would appreciate me showing my face. But what if they don’t? I look at Will, seeking reassurance. “I just don’t want anyone to feel like I’m intruding.”
“No one would think you’re intruding, Limpet.” His voice is firm, encouraging.
I look into my lap, twisting my hands together. Without looking up, I say, “I know, I guess. But I worry. You know?” I meet his eyes.
“It must feel weird, losing him?” I nod. “C’mon.” He opens his arms and gestures towards me. I plop the cheesecake box on the floor, and let him wrap me up in his arms. It feels like home. I relax into him, sighing deeply.
“It’s weird, you know? I don’t know the guy, so it’s not like I can miss him or feel that bad, right?”
He rubs his thumb down my arm absentmindedly. “I don’t know how I would feel in your situation. I think if it was me, my feelings would be complicated.”
Complicated. That sums it up. If I’m upset about losing him, does that mean I love my parents less? Will they be upset? If I go, does it signal that I’m willing to pick-up Craig’s work at the resorts?
“I think the thing is, what I’ve lost—or what I’m losing, I guess—is just different than for everyone else who will be there.” I run my hand through my hair, tossing away a fiery dark strand that sticks to my hand. “I don’t know Craig at all. I’m not losing an actual brother or a friend. I’m losing the potential of him. When we visited, I didn’t know him, but there was this part of me that dared to dream about what it would be like to have a big brother. But now, what, I’m going to lose that before I even had it?”
He grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze. It manages to keep me talking. “I don’t even know whether I’m allowed to be upset.” He pulls me tighter into him and presses a kiss on my forehead.
“Feel whatever you feel. There’s no rules about this, Mia.”
Safe. He makes me feel safe. Like somehow, I can do this.
“I’m not gonna tell you what you should do, but if it was me, I’d be there. Besides—aren’t you the one who told me memorials and funerals and things are for the living, not the dead?” I feel him laugh softly behind me. “It’s not all about you, Mia.”
Speaking into my hair, he says, “It’s up to you whether you go, but for what it’s worth, I think they’ll appreciate the gesture.”