Chapter 4. A BETTER PLACE
(Sienna)
Fuck my life.
Father Wakefield was saying something to me. I was pretty sure it was one of those transcendental phrases—you know, something like “they are in a better place” or my personal favorite, “one day you’ll meet them again.” People usually don’t know what to say at funerals, but honestly, I couldn’t care less about his words. Nothing he said would make the grief go away. I couldn’t even focus on his words. I was just lost.
I felt everything and nothing at the same time. It was like my body had shut down, unable to process everything that had happened since last Friday.
Jerry, my father’s personal assistant, showed up uninvited at eleven in the evening at Moore Manor. His face was pale, and his eyes were full of pain when Mrs. Bishop announced his arrival and welcomed him into the living room.
“I know it’s late, Sienna, but I must speak with you. May I sit?”
My curiosity transformed into concern at the exhausted look on his face. I pressed pause on the remote, put the popcorn down on the coffee table, and extended my hand, inviting Jerry to sit on the opposite couch from where I was sitting.
“Please, have a seat,” I said.
Despite how late it was, he still wore his suit, and looking at the dark circles under his eyes, I could tell he’d had a rough day. Jerry Payne would only come to the house when there was a pressing matter or my father would summon him, but my parents left today to spend a week in Cabo, so I had no idea why he came to the house. He’d been working for my dad since I was a child. Jerry sometimes came with us during vacation, and I liked to think of him as a detached uncle. He wouldn’t smile often, but his current facial expression had me on edge.
“Before I say anything, I need you to know that I’m here for you, that you can count on me like your father always did.” He was tense. I could see how shaken he was, and at that moment, when he said those words, I knew something terrible had happened.
“Did? What is it, Jerry? Has something happened? Are my parents okay?” Something stuck in my throat, like I was trying to swallow words that hadn’t been said yet.
“Sienna, there was an accident. Your parents’ private jet…” He paused. “They’re gone. I’m so sorry, kid.”
I knew Jerry said something else, but the ringing in my ears blocked everything out, and I felt sick, just like now. Still, before I could make a scene in the middle of St. Mary’s Church and throw up like I did on my mother’s favorite Persian rug, I excused myself from Father Wakefield with a forced smile and ran to the closest restroom. After I emptied my stomach—not that it was full whatsoever, as I hadn’t been able to keep anything down the past few days—I sat on the floor for what felt like an eternity until I heard a knock on the door.
“Miss Moore, it’s Mrs. Bishop. I saw you come in here a while ago. Are you feeling alright, darling? Can I do anything for you? Would you like me to fetch some water?”
I rose to my feet, attempting to force down the overwhelming lump that had formed in my throat. Still, as I braced myself for the flood of tears, they remained stubbornly absent, which only added to the weight of despair I carried, making me feel even more broken and empty inside.
I had to face the music again. The church was full of people, and everyone expected to see me, shake my hand, and give me their condolences.
“I’m coming out, Mrs. Bishop. Just give me two minutes.”
“Okay, darling,” she responded.
I walked to the closest sink, washed my mouth and hands, and checked myself in the mirror. My eyes didn’t look like mine anymore. When I was a kid, my father always told me I had the prettiest eyes; “Like honey,” he would say. “That’s why you’re so sweet.” Now, they looked empty, clouded, and a bit swollen. Honestly, I looked like shit. I hadn’t been able to sleep for the past six days, mainly surviving on lattes with extra espresso shots. Someone could think by the look on my face that I’d cried myself to sleep every night since the accident, but the truth was that I hadn’t been able to shed a single tear.
Not once.
I googled it because I was getting worried that I wasn’t grieving as one would expect after the sudden death of both parents. Apparently, it happened frequently, and it was said online that it could be linked with a type of grief called “inhibited grief” due to suppressed emotions. I guessed everyone dealt with loss in their own way. I wondered when the gates would open, and this overwhelming feeling came crashing down, hitting me.
During the service, Mrs. Bishop held my hand the whole time. I felt utterly isolated, surrounded either by strangers or by staff employed by my parents. Sarah kept checking on me every day, but yesterday evening, she called me to say her flight got canceled, and she wouldn’t make it on time. Despite trying to find an alternative one, everything was fully booked, so I suggested she stay in London.
I took a deep breath.
Here we go, Sienna. You can do this.