20. Then Six Years Ago
Chapter 20
Then: Six Years Ago
T he collective stench of white lilies and chrysanthemums is paralyzing. The nave is lined with well-wishers and sympathy baskets, trying to bring peace to a family who can never be whole again. It’s heartbreaking and harrowing, and through it all, the Coles stand there, united, full of pain and full of grace.
The service is long and agonizing. The pews are overflowing with guests dressed in black, paying their respects. The preacher asks everyone to hold their condolences until the end— the family needs some time , he says. But when the service concludes, I’m not sure they’ve had enough time to come to terms with what’s happening. If anything, it’s made it worse. Carrie’s sniffling turns to wailing. She’s grieving the love of her life. How can anyone say anything to ease her suffering?
Nana and Pop greet Jade first, and she reaches out to pull them into a tight hug. She wasn’t here when it happened, and she blames herself. It’s not her fault. It’s no one’s fault. These things just happen sometimes. The Coles are like family to me, sometimes more than my own family, but being here today feels like I’m at a stranger’s funeral.
Jase and I have barely spoken since the night it happened. My mama baked lasagna for the family, and I brought it over with her, but Jase wasn’t home. I’ve tapped on his window every night since, but he hasn’t answered. I’ve called, but it’s only gone to voicemail. He hasn’t been at school or driven past the house. Not that I can blame him. I don’t know what he’s going through or how deep the pain he’s feeling runs, but I know he is hurting, and I want to be here for him like he’s always been here for me. He hasn’t missed anything in my life over the last thirteen years, even when I haven’t called … especially when I haven’t called.
But he won’t let me in now, and it’s breaking me that I can’t hold him and let him know he’s not alone.
“I’m sorry, Jade.” I sniffle.
She wraps her arms around me and pulls me into her like she does with the rest of my family. Unlike the rest of my family, she doesn’t let go. She clings to me like a T-shirt after a summer storm. Jack taps her on the shoulder and gives her a signal to pull back. When she does, there’s a mix of confusion, anger, sadness, love, and immense grief in her hazel eyes. She shakes her head. “How’d this happen, Kate? I can’t believe he’s gone. My dad. Gone just like that.” She snaps her fingers, and its echo ricochets like the first pop of a firework.
I squeeze her hands. “I don’t know, babe. I’m sorry. What can I do?”
She frowns.
It’s clear what she really wants to ask: bring him back, and what I want to say : I would do anything to make it happen if I could.
Giving her hands a final pat, I shift to Jack as the man behind me hurriedly shakes Jade’s hand and tries to move past me in line. His point is clear—if I’m not going to get in and get out, I should step aside.
“What an asshole,” Jack mumbles.
“Jack…” I warn.
He shrugs. “What? My dad died , and he’s acting like it’s another stop on his to-do list. We don’t need people here who don’t give a fuck.”
He has a point. It’s a funeral, not a matinee.
“I’m sorry, Jacky.”
He pulls me in for a hug. “Thank you.”
Jase stands between his older brother and his mama, pulling her to his side. She’s a wreck. Her husband of twenty-five years is gone in a senseless accident. There’s no one to blame. There’s nothing to reconcile. His heart gave out in the car, and he lost control. He wasn’t driving drunk or erratically. He wasn’t a bad person, and he didn’t believe in violence. He was a family man through and through—always wanting to spend his free time dancing with his wife and playing various sports with his kids. He ate right, was in shape, and ran for fun. There was no history of heart disease in his family. There were no signs.
It doesn’t matter. Jase’s mama knows it deep down, but she’s looking for them, anyway.
Carrie’s face is red, blotchy, and bloated. She hasn’t stopped crying, slept a wink, or stood up on her own in five days. She’s grieving her soulmate while my dad, the abusive town drunk, is alive and well and sitting in the fourth pew. Life’s not fair.
“I’m sorry, Carrie.” I wish there were something better to say, but there’s not. We all know it’s bullshit.
She sniffles but doesn’t say anything.
Jase doesn’t take his eyes off his mama.
I pat her hands with my own and take a seat in the pew next to my mama. “I wish I could take their pain away,” I mumble.
“We all do,” she replies.
When the line wraps up, Pop stands to meet Jase, Jack, and the other pallbearers up at the front of the Church. Nana tries to pull Pop back, but he insists on going. Eric was like a son to him, perhaps more than my dad, who’s constantly pushing him away. Nothing will keep him from honoring his memory. She nods at this and lets him go with a warning to be careful . My eyebrows furrow at the exchange. What’s there to be careful of?
As the cantor sings Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah,” the pallbearers move the coffin slowly down the nave. Grief glues the rest of us in our pews, and echoes of cries remind us that life is never as long as we’d like.
Mama and Nana rush to ensure each of the buffet burners is on. Mama insisted on organizing the luncheon, and Carrie agreed—grateful it was something she didn’t have to think about. Nana stirs the meatballs in the oversized crockpot and pours in jars of homemade red sauce. Mama puts Dad to work cutting the rolls as she takes a baked ziti out of the oven and replaces the tin above a burner she’s deemed ready. Pop and I greet people as they come in either house and direct them to the buffet or bathroom.
“Well, I can’t say the occasion doesn’t leave something to be desired, but you’re at least good company.” Pop tilts his hat my way.
I smile. “Right back at ’cha.” I scan the room for Jase.
“Maybe he needs some time on his own,” Pop offers.
I offer a prayer card to the next family in line.
The distinctive creak of the kitchen door fills the room, and familiar footsteps enter. There’s chatter and mindless condolences and ‘what can we do for you’s.’ They’re back.
Pop stretches his hand out for my pile of prayer cards. “Go,” he whispers.
I hurry down the hallway, past the living room, and into the kitchen. Jase’s face is drained of color, and his eyes look lost. His gaze meets mine, but not fully. He doesn’t acknowledge I’m here, just that I’m another person in an already packed kitchen.
Nana sashays a tray of cookies from a guest to the dining room table, where desserts will be served. I dodge out of her way but keep my attention on Jase. He doesn’t seem to see me, though. He doesn’t see anyone, really. I close the distance between us and reach for his hands, but he recoils as if I burned him. “Jase.” I blink back the tears welling in my eyes. Let me help. Don’t shut me out.
“Kay, I can’t do this,” he announces.
“What can I do to help? Do you need water? Ziti? Pineapple Upside Down Cake?” His favorite.
“No. I can’t do this .” He motions his hands between him and me. “Us. I can’t do us.”
“What? Do you want to lie down? Take a nap?”
“No.” His voice is strong, firm. “I need to be alone.”
“Okay.” I back away. “I’ll call you later.”
“Kay … I don’t need to be alone for now. I need to be alone, period. I can’t be in a relationship or move to New York with you. I need to be here … with my family.”
What? My voice cracks. “Can we … can we talk about this later?”
“No, Kay. No, we can’t.” Over the hum of people talking, over the low sympathy songs on Spotify in the background, his voice is loud and clear. He’s loud and clear—he’s done with me. Done with us. Forever.
I hold it together until I stumble out of his house, into mine, up the stairs, and into my bedroom. Only then, when I’m truly alone, do I let myself cry. I let myself fall apart.
He’s grieving. He’s been holding himself, his mama, his siblings, and his house together by a thread. I know he’s said things he doesn’t mean … but he doesn’t call. He doesn’t toss a pebble at my window. He doesn’t smile when he sees me in town, answer my texts, or acknowledge I exist. For three months.
Hearing he got accepted to Sloane Community College makes it clear his plans are here—and mine aren’t.
How can he not miss me? He told me I was everything to him. And now …
If I could stop the dreams and the plans.
If I could stop the hoping, pining, and loving … stop my heart from aching.
If I could, I’d stop every bit of it.
But I can’t.
Moping around in my room every night for months has only made my stomach turn and my eyes dry out—it’s hardly been the summer I imagined having.
Screw this. I’m moving to New York. I’m going to live the life we, no, I dreamed about. Deep breath. One thing at a time. -Pack for Ithaca -Register for elective classes -Research a safe running path on campus -Schedule interviews for waitressing jobs -Imagine who I’ll be a year from now
I’ll be better then. My pointer and middle finger absentmindedly touch my wrist. Maybe.
“Fuck him.” I turn my playlist on and turn the volume up. Taylor Swift’s “All Too Well” is exactly the energy I need to start moving on.
Clink.
Oh really? Was the music loud enough to finally make him come over? How very much like a rom-com.
Clink.
I talk before I open my window. “Okay, we can talk—Jack? What are you doing?”
Jack’s halfway up the tree already. “You didn’t answer your phone.”
I pick up my cell. “‘Hey’ is the big message you had to climb my tree for?”
“Yeah.” He climbs in the window. “You haven’t really been around. I’ve been worried about you.”
I scoff. “Yeah, well, when your brother broke up with me at your dad’s funeral, in front of half the town, and stopped returning my texts, I kind of got the message.” Eventhough it took me weeks to do so.
Jack puts his hands in his pocket, nervously looking around my room.
“What’s going on?” I gripe.
“I wanted you to hear it from me. Well, I wanted you to hear it from Jase, but it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen. I guess I’d rather you hear it from me than …”
“Jack, spit it out.” I throw my hands on my hips, waiting for this big announcement.
“Jase has a girlfriend.” His words are quick, but it doesn’t stop the air from whooshing out of my body.
“He what?” I’m unable to take back the vitriol in my tone. My eyebrows are glued to the top of my forehead, and my blood pressure has spiked to a level it refuses to come down from.
Jack hangs his head. “I’m sorry, Kate … I walked in on them, and I, uh, didn’t know.”
My muscles go slack. “What do you mean you walked in on them?”
Jack scratches his ear but doesn’t answer the question.
My chest starts to ache, and my thoughts spiral out of control. Were they having sex? Does she know about the spot on his neck? The spot that’s mine. Did she like his tattoo? Does she think it’s cute? The tattoo was his idea—the one that matches mine. Does she know? Does she care? I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.
Jack’s eyebrows draw together, and he reaches for my hands. “Kate, breathe.”
I shake my head. I can’t.
“Yes, you can. Take a deep breath in and out.” His gaze peers into mine. “In and out.”
I focus on the kindness in his eyes, the bridge on his nose, the line on his forehead—little details to keep me from falling deeper into panic.
When the oxygen pulses back through my veins, I realize there’s no point in being upset. Jase said he was done with me, with us. His life is his to spend with whoever he wants. It doesn’t matter what I say, how I feel—nothing is going to change it. It doesn’t matter if it was him throwing pebbles; I am going to New York, anyway.
“Ugh,” I groan. If only it were as simple as to choose not to care. Maybe one day it will be.
Jack sits next to me and puts his hand on my knee. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be the one to tell you.” He pauses and removes his hand to take a crumpled-up flyer out of his jeans pocket. “I wanted you to know what you could be walking into here.”
He hands me the flyer, and I open it up and roll my eyes. “Sayonara Seniors Night?”
“What?” He looks over at the flyer then turns it over. “No, on the back.”
“You’re having a party … Oh.” Air catches in my throat when realization dawns on me. Jack is already in college. He’s not having an end-of-high-school party. His brother is.
“Yeah, oh, ” he agrees. “I’m sure my mama would agree this isn’t the way to go about anything, but she’s out of town this weekend, and even if she wasn’t … she’s been letting Jase get away with pretty much anything since … . ”
I fold the flyer and put it on my nightstand.
Jack continues, “You’re more than welcome to come.”
I don’t mean to, but I flinch.
He winces. “I didn’t mean anything by it. You know you’re more than Jase’s ex—you’re my friend, too. I don’t know about you, but I could use a friend these days.”
Hearing his words feels like a punch to the gut—both Jase’s ex and that Jack could use a friend. “I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I guess I assumed when Jase was done with me, you guys would be, too.”
Jack smiles. “Oh no, you can’t get rid of us that easily. You’re still an honorary Cole—and if you ever want to be an actual Cole … there’s more than one option.”
“Jack!” I shout and cut my hand right to his gut when he winks at me.
He doubles over but laughs. “What? It was funny.” When he stands, he smooths out his jeans. “So, you’ll come to the party … for me?”
My eyebrow arch. “Still laying it on a little thick there, bro. ”
Jack raises his hands. “Come as a friend?”
“I’ll think about it.” I escort him to the window.
“You know, I’ve always wondered why you and Jase used the tree and window when the door is easier.”
“Get it now?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. It’s hard to fit your body through a window.”
“Bye, Jack.” I help him out and close the window, but when he looks back and waves, I don’t feel the longing I felt for the other boy next door.
The other Cole.
The one who got away.
No one’s home when I head downstairs. I leave a note on the kitchen counter, letting them know I’m next door and I’ll be home before curfew. The entire house has been more on edge over the last few months, partially due to the reminder that life is precious and not guaranteed and partially due to college being a few weeks away. Mama has been extra emotional because she’s losing her baby. Me. A note’s the least I can do to try and prevent a meltdown.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Okay.
Oh-kay.
Standing on the front porch, I take several deep breaths. Then, I take a few more. I step aside as recent grads walk in the house with a case of beer in hand.
“Kate?”
My brain’s still a little hazy when I look up to see Jack standing in front of me in a pair of jeans and a pullover sweater. “Do you want to come inside?”
Hesitantly, I look over his shoulder and see people filling every square inch of the house. The line up the stairs of girls in short skirts waiting for the bathroom gets longer by the second. The red solo cups thrown throughout the living room make me shudder. There are couples making out in the hallway, but I’m sure there are even more in the bedrooms and bathrooms. I back away. “I’m sorry, Jack. Thanks for inviting me, but this was a mistake. I’m gonna go home.”
Jack reaches out to stop me. “Hey, I know this is a lot, but please, please don’t go.”
I close my eyes. He asked me to come—for him—because he could use a friend, and honestly, couldn’t we both?
“Okay.”
As soon as we step inside, Jase comes out of the kitchen and turns the corner to the hallway. His solo cup is halfway to his lips when he sees me, too. The entire world freezes as we stare at one another. He blinks and looks away first, and my eyes burn.
“Go talk to him.” Jack pushes me toward Jase, but in the time it takes me to consider his suggestion, the world unfreezes, and Jase disappears into the crowd.
I shake my head. “I guess he didn’t want to talk to me.”
“Come on.” Jack rolls his eyes. He grabs my hand and leads me around the corner behind the stairs to Jade’s room.
He knocks three times softly, and sure enough, his brother answers, “Yeah?”
“Go on.” Jack encourages me, and I enter the room.
“Hey ...” I shift my feet nervously in the doorway.
Jase looks up, blinking in surprise. “Kay?”
“Surprised I found you?”
“What?” His eyebrows crease. “No, I thought you were here with Jack.”
I look back and extend my hand toward the door. “I’m not here with Jack.”
“Oh.” He sighs in relief.
“Jack invited me to come as a friend.”
“Ah, ‘as a friend.’”
“Ugh!” I scream, throwing both arms in the air. “What the hell is the matter with you? First off, I would never—he’s like a brother to me—but second, even if it changed and I was ‘here with Jack,’ it’s my damn business since you broke up with me, need I remind you.”
Jase hangs his head. “I know.”
“You know? That’s it?”
Jase stands, heat radiating off him in waves. “What do you mean, that’s it? My dad died, Kay. I needed time to heal—alone.”
“Oh, okay, and now you’re done healing alone, you can heal with another girl like our relationship means nothing to you?”
“My dad died without warning, and you want to move to New York. I can’t leave my family behind, and you won’t stay. It’s kind of the end of the road for us, don’t you think?”
“ Why would I think that? I think you’re judging me without talking to me. I would never force you to go to New York, especially after what happened, but it doesn’t mean I want to lose you, either. I want to talk to you and be here for you. Let me be here for you.”
He scoffs. “Oh, you’ll be here for me for what—the next two weeks? Aren’t you leaving for Ithaca? Why even wait?”
The tears fall, ignoring the commands I’m giving them to go the hell away or to at least pause until I’m out of this damn house. The house that used to give me love and safety now only brings pain.
The door creaks, and in walks the cheerleading captain with bleached-blonde hair, a perfect smile, and long, tan legs.
“Hey, babe.” Lindsay greets Jase but pauses when she sees me. “Oh, hi, Kate. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything …” She doesn’t make any attempt at walking away. Instead, she plants her feet further into the ground as if she’s grown roots. Her hair always looks blown out and perfect, and I hate to admit it, but she looks even more perfect with him.
I thought I couldn’t breathe before, but nothing has felt like the punch to the gut like this moment is with Jase and Lindsay and seeing our entire relationship blow away like smoke.
The world spins around me. I falter before I can steady my stance and get out of the house and into my own. Seconds after I step foot in my room, a dark shadow looms large in the doorway. Dad’s feet are planted firmly into the carpet and his arms are pushing against the frame, knuckles white from the pressure he’s applying. His eyes are bloodshot, his face is beet red, and he’s foaming at the mouth.
The hair on both arms stand. “Dad?”
“You stupid bitch!”
“ What?” I blink three times in quick succession.
“You fucking whore! Who do you think you are?”
“Dad, what?” I object.
He screams and trips into the room, catching his fall on my dresser, which he then deliberately flips over onto the floor. The loud thud shakes the house, and Pop barrels up the stairs.
“ Andy! What are you doing?”
Dad doesn’t listen. He slams the door behind him and flips the lock. “You’re a liar. I didn’t raise you to be a liar and a whore and a runner. You’re gonna hide in New York instead of dealing with your problems. Who are you?”
I flinch every time he lunges toward me in his drunken stupor.
“No wonder he ended things with you. No one loves a whore.” His glassy gaze stares into mine, but it doesn’t connect with his eyes. Almost like he’s looking through me, but it doesn’t make the words sting less.
I’m vaguely aware of Pop trying to break down the door, but I can’t turn my attention there. I just can’t. I close my eyes and ask Dad the question I’ve been wanting to ask him for some time. The question I’m scared to death to know the answer to. “Do you, Dad? Do you love me?”
“No.” He sneers, and spit falls to the ground by my feet. “I only love your mother.”
There are inaudible shouts and cries, but I can’t hear anything over the sound of my heart breaking in two. I only know I’m breathing because I can feel each gasp for air pointedly. Take a deep breath. Keep breathing.
Even though I asked the question. Even though, deep down, I knew the answer. Feeling it and hearing it are two different things. A child should never have to hear their parent say they don’t love them.
One more bang and Pop’s in the door, calming Dad down to get him to leave.
Before I can think better of it, I grab a duffle bag, throw random items from my closet and dresser into it, and zip it, while Pop moves Dad to my parents’ room. I scurry out of the house, turn Lily’s ignition, and back out of the driveway, leaving Sloane and the broken pieces of who I used to be in my rearview mirror.