27. Gone forever
CHAPTER 27
Gone forever
The burial was private. I don’t recall most of it. Maybe I do. But I don’t want to be flooded with images of my best friend being lowered to the ground. Losing Mr Dissick hurts, but it’s nothing compared to this. He’s alive. She isn’t. I may see him again, but she is forever gone.
A cry from somewhere in the house disrupts my thoughts. The pillow in my hands drops. We used to play with this pillow, sleep in this bed. I wipe my nose that’s red from excess crying.
We buried her today. Taylor and Rose are downstairs entertaining the guests. I hate this idea of the bereaved family serving visitors. They just lost their child. They should be given a break. I hurry to the bathroom, splash water on my face, and head outside to check on Mace.
Mace is with his grandpa. I may or may not have been the best mum to him. I make sure my face has no evidence of crying as I near the bottom of the stairs. Staying in Amelia’s room gives me the courage to go an extra day. It’s my moment. I don’t like sharing it with anyone, not even my son. Thankfully, the Greene family gives me a chance to do that when I want.
The living room is crowded with family I’ve never seen, friends of her parents and some of Ashley’s. Jason is at the corner on the single sofa with his guitar. Bottles of water and trays of biscuits occupy the coffee cable, probably Taylor’s doing. A strange calm falls over the living room as he plays the instrument. Dad looks up on sensing my presence and pats the armrest.
Heads turn in my direction. I dip my head, realising a little too late that I no longer have long hair to act as a shield. Mace is tucked in Dad’s arms. Fast asleep. I could have sworn I heard him cry. I collect him from Dad, bring my ear close to his chest, and breathe along with him. He has no idea what has happened. That his aunt and godmother is gone. I cradle him in my arms, my eyes downcast as the song continues.
It’s Amelia’s favourite song. My heart cracks a little more when Ashley sings. She has a not-so-nice voice, but it’s the rawness of it, the pain that draws tears to my eyes. Her mother joins in, her father follows. Soon, the entire room is singing out of rhythm, baring our hearts out.
A napkin appears in my vision, and I accept it to wipe my tears. I slide down to the couch, my knee touching Dad’s. Mace whines in his sleep. I envy him. God. I envy him so much. His innocence. His ignorance. His naivety. I want it. I want to be a little girl again whose biggest problem is picking her favourite flavour of ice-cream.
Someone sits on my left. Another person takes Dad’s place. From the pink-coloured nails, I can tell it’s Rose. She wraps her arms around my shoulders. Another arm circles my waist. I don’t know who is who but I relax my head on their shoulder. A sharp cry ruins the peace.
Mace clenches his fists and jerks his feet in the air. I place a finger on my lips and say, “Shh.”
The little one blinks. His blues shine with tears, and he bursts out laughing. I crack a smile. I needed to hear that. His tiny fingers stretch to my cheek as I hoist him up, and his fingertips caress my tears. My lips brush his, and he giggles. My heart still hurts, but at this moment, I’m reminded of the little things.
One by one, the guests leave. Ashley comes over to hug me. She pinches Mace’s cheeks and makes funny sounds at him. Offering me a kind smile, she murmurs, “I’ll be in my room.”
Taylor and Rose hang around for a bit. They are still my friends but times have changed. I flow in and out of the conversation. They talk about school, their grades, everything but nothing about their love lives. It sucks that we’ve drifted. But I don’t hold it against them.
They leave and Jason strolls towards me. For someone who lost his beloved, he is so calm about it. Mace yawns. He is quiet like the good little boy he is. I swear he can read moods.
Jason follows me to the guest room to get Mace’s feeding bottle. He turned one last week. I turned twenty this week, but there was no time for a celebration. February is a bittersweet month for me. It has the best memories and the worst. It’s a love-hate relationship. Mace’s lips pucker once he sees the bottle, and he latches onto it when I settle down. They told me my baby might not make it. Suckers. He’s strong. He’s one-year-old, and he’s outstanding.
“How are you?” Jason whispers.
I slide a pillow to my side as my head drops to the headboard. “Do you mean, how are you ?” I reply. He has been quiet, like the proverbial calm before the storm. “How are you, Jason?”
Jason pulls the curtains open and shuts the window. “I’m holding up.” He leans on the wall and crosses his legs at the ankles. “What about you, Cathie? You have been awfully quiet.”
“What can I say?”
In the empty room, our voices sound louder than they are. Jason backs off the wall and stops in front of me. His eyes are tired, but he wears a smile. “You can say what you feel, Cathie.”
Like it will do us any good. Mace sucks the entire content of the bottle and stretches his arms, mouth wide open. Nap time. I place him in the middle of the bed, propping pillows on each side of him so he doesn’t roll off. Jason observes me in silence. He’s still waiting for a reply.
“For one, I’m pissed,” I say. I thought God would be nice to us this one time, only for that to happen. “I don’t think she should have died. Why are you so calm about this? You should be more pissed. The love of your life was taken from you. You’ll never hear her laugh again.”
His blues close, and he sags to the bed. Without a thought, he grabs my hand and squeezes. A dry smile stretches his lips as he lets go, and I slip my fingers into Mace’s clenched fist. He blinks sleepily at me. Soon his eyes close and his breathing evens out. Lucky lad. Sleeping no longer appeals to me. It’s not an escape from a reality but another reminder I don’t have her.
“Do you think Amelia would have wanted me or you to be pissed?” Jason mumbles. I shake my head without meeting his gaze. She would have wanted him to be happy. Every one of us. “I’m hanging by a thread. Doing my best not to break down because I promised her I won’t.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“Maybe,” he says. He splays his fingers on his knees. I look up to see tears shimmering in his eyes. They are like magnets that draw tears to mine. “We have to respect the dead, I guess.”
“I guess so too.” A minute of quiet passes. I cross my legs on the bed. Sometimes, he reminds me of him. They are alike in many ways. Their acceptance of life is scary. “You and Mr Dissick will make good friends,” I say. Jason’s smile falls. “I didn’t mean to bring him up.”
“It’s okay.”
Silence clogs the air. I haven’t had time to think about Mr Dissick or check other options. I don’t know if Dad is still in contact with Dani, and I never asked. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe not. Jason clears his throat. I raise a brow, and he rubs his palms over his knees.
“Did you try to talk to him?” Jason asks. I shrug. “I don’t know what happened between you two, so I can’t pass judgement. But did you two ever talk? That day at the pub was crazy.”
I chuckle. “Yeah. I didn’t know you could swing like that, Mr King.” He laughs. My head falls back, and I rub my palms over my arm. I miss them. “Thanks for having my back.”
Until that day, I had never seen Jason in protective mode. Amelia wouldn’t have had to worry about her safety. “I didn’t expect to see him. We hadn’t seen each other in a long time.”
“Maybe he came to change that?” Jason offers.
Mr Dissick deleted his BC account. That’s not the attitude of someone who wants a change. I shake my head, putting an end to the questions Jason might be tempted to ask.
“We should focus on the present,” I say.
He nods. “Yeah.”
For now, I’m done with that chapter. But Jason doesn’t seem to be. Though he doesn’t voice out any more questions, he frowns in my direction. I point to the door and jump off the bed.
“Are you thirsty? I am. I’ll be right back,” I say, already bulldozing to the door.
I leave the room and shut the door quietly behind me. After a few deep breaths, I start for the kitchen, but the doorbell stops me. The place is empty. Dad must have left for his hotel. I head for the door. If it’s another guest, I’ll have to send them back home politely. The whole family is exhausted. From the peephole, I see no one, and a ball of annoyance turns around in my belly. This is not the right time for one of the neighbours’ kids to pull a stunt like this.
The doorbell rings again. I yank the door open and my breath rushes out of my lungs.