Chapter 6
Chapter Six
While I try to care for my mom, Logan quietly takes care of me.
Towels and clean clothes are left out on the bathroom counter reminding me I need to shower and change.
Small meals magically appear, and water replaces the bottomless coffee.
Tylenol is gently placed in the palm of my hand every four hours because he knows my head is aching.
I haven’t had to answer the phone or greet the casserole ladies when they drop off food.
He has even arranged for Francis to come in daily to help around the house.
He is my constant, unwavering support, and I’m not sure I could survive this nightmare without him.
I’m becoming overwhelmed with the number of people I have had to talk to.
When he isn’t with me, our friend Megan is.
She grew up down the street with her dad and though she is a few years older, she has always been a close friend.
At twenty-five she is already married to her high school sweetheart Jeff.
I appreciate her quiet strength as I navigate caring for my mom and my own grief.
Beth is in and out. She’s been dealing with things at Dad’s office, helping transfer existing clients to other brokers in the agency and tying up loose ends.
I honestly have no clue what needs to be done, and I don’t care.
When she’s here, she spends a lot of time talking privately with Mom.
Mom talks to Beth more than anyone else.
I’ve repeatedly tried to engage her in conversation, but she keeps shutting me out.
I asked Ryan about it, and he explained that everyone grieves differently and sometimes they subconsciously pull away from those that remind them of their loss.
He said it’s not personal, but it sure feels personal. I just want my mom.
“What about this one?” I ask, holding up a modest black crape dress to show my mom.
I found her in her bedroom, sitting in her bathrobe 20 minutes ago.
The funeral is in a couple of hours, and she hasn’t even begun to get ready.
I have shown her multiple options, and she has been indifferent to them all.
I should have checked yesterday that she knew what she was going to wear. Maybe we wouldn’t be rushing now.
“I honestly don’t care what I wear, Hannah,” she says with a sigh, sinking further into a chair. “Just pick something, and I’ll put it on.”
She’s saying goodbye to her husband, I would love it if she put in a little effort to look nice.
“Okay, well, this is my choice then,” I say, laying it across her bed before returning to the closet.
“Do you want heels or flats?” No response. I may as well be talking to myself at this point.
“I think flats are the more sensible choice. You will probably be standing a lot.” I grab a pair of cute ballerina flats, and a simple black clutch and put them alongside the dress.
Opening her carved wooden jewellery box, I find the pearl earrings and necklace that my dad bought her for their last anniversary and carry them over to show her.
“I think these will look really nice with the dress, what do you think?”
“I don’t care,” she mumbles, looking down at her hands.
“I need you to care for just a minute, okay? Please,” I beg. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and try to collect myself. Being frustrated isn’t going to help get her ready any faster.
Smiling, I say, “I’m sorry. Let’s get ready so we get to the funeral home on time.”
In the week since Dad passed, I have come to realize how much he shielded me from the enormity of my mom’s mental illness.
I thought I knew. But what I experienced as a child with a sick parent doesn’t even compare to what I am left to deal with now.
Our mother-daughter dynamic has completely changed and I’m not sure I am up to the challenge.
I can barely make decisions for myself, how am I going to support her making hers?
The house feels so empty without Dad here to fill it.
There’s no longer the boisterous sound of his laugh when he tells a ridiculous joke just to make mom smile.
There’s no smell of homemade tomato sauce simmering in the kitchen while he hums along to oldies on the radio.
He will never peek his head into my room late at night and wish me sweet dreams. There are countless moments that I took for granted.
Despite my lingering anger and sense of betrayal, I miss him so much.
The funeral home has allowed us to use their large family room to hold a celebration of life after the service. There is no way I could host the gathering in my parents’ home and forgoing it is not an option. The good residents of Emerley have certain expectations.
There are endless flower arrangements scattered around the room and a photo montage playing across a large television screen, showcasing my father’s life. I’m not sure who put it together but it’s a lovely tribute.
My mother is currently sitting solemnly with a linen handkerchief clutched in her hand lost in her own private world, barely acknowledging the steady stream of people that stop by to pay their respects.
As a result of her silence, I am the one listening to people give words of sympathy and support.
I fake smiles, awkwardly hugged way too many people and thank everyone for coming.
Both of my parents are only children, and my grandparents have passed.
More than once this week I wished that I had a sibling to share some of the responsibility.
“Here, drink this.” Logan appears at my side, twists the lid off and hands me a bottle of water. I smile at him after taking a long refreshing swallow.
“Thank you. Can you believe this crowd?” I whisper.
He looks handsome in the navy suit and brown shoes that he borrowed from his dad.
I feel like a train wreck in the dark grey dress I got from Megan.
Like him I have nothing appropriate to wear with me.
The thought of going shopping to buy something new gave me hives.
“I’m pretty sure the entire village is here. He knew a lot of people.”
It’s true. Friends, colleagues, and past clients have all been here to express their sympathy.
He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze as we watch groups of people gathered in small circles drinking tea or coffee talking in hushed voices.
There are sounds of subdued laughter as they recall their favourite memories.
We silently watch as Francis and Maggie deliver more baked goods to the refreshment table. Beth is speaking with a real estate agent I recognize from my dad’s office. Riot and Megan have been accosted by elderly Mrs. Wilson; probably talking about her cat.
“The room is full of hypocrites. How many of them do you think are the same ones who talked shit about him online,” I mutter, popping a mint into my dry mouth.
I’m positive there are several people here just because they are curious about the Facebook posts. They want to see if anything scandalous happens or if the other woman shows up. Can you imagine what a shit show that would be?
Just then, an irritated-looking Officer Kent enters and scans the room. When he spots me, he walks quickly straight to us.
“Logan.” He nods, acknowledging my boyfriend. Turning to me, he says, “My condolences, Hannah. I hope you don’t mind, but I met Mr. Marshal at the door and told him he should leave. I don’t want to overstep, but I didn’t think you would want to see him here today.”
“Thank you, Officer Kent. I really appreciate that.” He is right, I absolutely do not want to see that piece of garbage today or any time soon.
“Did you confirm he didn’t see the crash happen?”
“Please, call me Mason. Yes, several people talked to him at Maggie’s and, as you know, he had been online,” he sighs heavily before continuing.
“The timeline from when you talked to your father on the phone, when the accident occurred, and the discovery of the car all line up. I know this is a difficult time, but if you or your mom needs anything at all, please let me know. As a friend and neighbour not as a police officer. I care about her a great deal. Your dad was a good man and a good friend.”
“Thank you, Mason.”
He nods once before leaving us and going to my mother. We watch as he crouches down and gently takes my mother’s hand and speaks to her softly. She gives him a sad smile and nods her head before he rises, kisses her cheek, and exits the way he came.
“Was that weird to you?” Logan asks as he watches their exchange.
“This entire experience is beyond weird,” I say, closing my eyes and resting my head on his shoulder. “I can’t wait for this day to be over.”
I remain in that position for a moment before I hear Logan chuckle. “She made it.”
“Who?” I ask, following the direction he’s looking.
In the centre of the room, I see Meg and Riot talking to our friend, Carson. Beside him is a tall blonde woman with two long braids hanging down her back. When she turns to look at me, I gasp and immediately burst into tears. Claire’s here.
Rushing to me, she pulls me into a tight embrace.
“Hey, girlfriend. Long time, no see. I wish it was for a better reason,” she whispers into my hair.
“How are you here?” I ask through my sobs.
Stepping back and holding both my hands, she smiles and nods her head towards Riot.
“This big guy right here. He told me to get my ass on a plane and come home. Carson picked me up from the airport and we came straight here. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it back sooner.”
None of us have seen Claire in person since the summer after we graduated high school, three years ago.
Desperate to leave this small town, she took her first opportunity and ran.
This is the first time she has been back, and she looks amazing.
Her hair is so much longer and lighter, her skin is bronze from all the time she spends in the sun. This is so much better than FaceTime.
Looking back and forth between the boys, I ask, “You did this for me? Thank you.”
“No problem, we were glad to do it. Meg pitched in too,” Carson answers for all of them. Riot stands to the side quietly. He can’t take his eyes off Claire.
“Thank you,” I mouth to Meg, and she nods her head in response.
I look over my shoulder and ask, “Did you know she was coming, Logan?”
“Maybe.” He winks before kissing me on the cheek. “We are just going to go over to the buffet and get something to eat before all the food is gone. Do you want me to make you a plate?”
There is no chance of running out of food, the ladies of Emerley provide, but I appreciate that he is giving me a moment alone with my girlfriends.
“I’m good, thank you.”
“Let’s go over there so we can talk.” Meg points to a private corner.
I glance over at my mom to make sure she is okay before following my friends. She’s still sitting in the same place but now Beth is there too. I’m glad to have a few minutes that I don’t have to worry about her.
“How long are you going to be here?” I ask Claire. I still can’t believe she came home to see me.
Her smile briefly falls before she says, “Just two days. I’m sorry, I wish I could stay longer, but I need to be in Jasper before Thursday. I’m going to spend the night at Meg’s, but we can spend all day with you tomorrow. Is that okay?”
“That is the best news I have had in a week.”
My circle of friends may be small, but they are the best friends I could ever ask for.