Chapter 28
HOLDEN
The call came early on what otherwise would’ve been an ordinary Thursday morning. I smiled when I saw her name on my screen as I was getting ready for the day, but when I caught a glimpse of the time, my stomach dropped and my bloodstream froze over.
No good news could come at five-thirty in the morning. My heart thudded in my ears as my thumb slid across the screen. “Ella, what it is? What’s wrong?”
Her voice broke on the other end of the line, barely able to say the words. “Holden? I… My mom… She’s gone.”
“I’m coming.” My eyelids slammed shut, but I was already in motion. I didn’t think as I turned and ran out of my room, still jamming my feet into my shoes halfway down the hall. My chest felt tight, like my lungs had forgotten how to absorb oxygen.
On my way out the door, I grabbed my keys and my wallet, then canceled every meeting on my calendar as I raced to my car. My hair was still damp and I hadn’t remembered to grab a tie, but none of that mattered.
My heart hammered in my throat, my extremities ice cold as I flew in behind the steering wheel and turned over my engine. I couldn’t believe it was all over. Dr. Feldman had warned us that it wouldn’t be long, but this seemed unbelievably, impossibly, cruelly fast.
Just a little over a week ago, we’d gone to the beach and now Sara was gone. My chest ached for Ellora, my jaw hard. I ran up the stairs when I reached her building. I felt like I could barely see, let alone create any sort of awareness of my surroundings.
All I knew when I reached her floor was that I’d made it. I burst out of the stairwell and sprinted to her door, my fist dropping in a loud bang as soon as it was within reach. As if she’d been waiting for me to knock, she opened immediately, her eyes red and glassy and her hair a mess.
I pulled her into my arms without either of us saying a word, but she didn’t need to. She looked like she’d been completely hollowed out, her face pale and her body trembling as she sank into me. She clung to my shirt, burying her head in my chest, and she started sobbing quietly.
All I could do was hold her. “I’m sorry, Ella. I’m so, so sorry.”
I kissed her hair and her cheeks, wiping away the tears that wouldn’t stop. Once we were inside, Ellora hung onto me. I led her to the couch and draped a blanket from the back of it over us. Her fingers twisted in my shirt, her head resting on my arm. She tried to calm her breathing.
“Can I make you some tea?” I offered quietly, kicking off my shoes and realizing that I hadn’t even tied my laces.
She looked up at me, those green eyes lost and swimming in tears. “No. I… yes. Maybe.”
I brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face and gently tucked it behind her ear. “How about I just hold you for a while and then we’ll figure it out?”
“That sounds good.”
She dropped her head back to my chest and started sobbing all over again. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as she fell apart. Every time her phone rang, I took the call without leaving her side.
I spoke to friends and distant relatives, the funeral home, various former coworkers of Sara’s, and a whole host of others. There were so many people who wanted to offer their condolences, but Ellora only spoke to someone called Mercedes, letting me deal with all the others.
While she spoke to her friend, she pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them, looking like a shadow of herself as she cried into the phone. I arranged the blanket around her and stood up to give them some privacy, finally going to make her some tea.
There were still dishes in the sink from last night’s dinner, medications, and empty cups on the counter. Yeah, she shouldn’t have to deal with all this.
After filling the tea kettle with fresh water, I put it on, and while I waited for it to boil, I rolled up my sleeves and quickly washed their few dishes. I hadn’t done this myself for a long time, but it was methodical and strangely comforting.
Once that was done, I wiped down the kitchen counter and packed all the medications bearing Sara’s name into an empty box I found under the sink. I glanced down the hall once I had our tea in my hands, contemplating going to strip Sara’s bedding, but I didn’t want to do that without asking.
When I walked back into the living room, Ellora was just putting the phone down.
She’d stopped crying, but her eyes were red and swollen, her bare feet sticking out from under the blanket.
Her arm was still slung around her knees, still pulled up to her chest like she was trying to make herself as small as possible.
“Where’s Bree?” I asked once I’d handed over the tea. “Is she alright? I thought she’d still be here.”
Ellora shook her head, her voice ragged after all the crying, and so soft and broken that it slayed me to hear her like this. “I told her not to come. She wanted to, but Mom…”
Her voice cracked completely and she dropped her head back, closing her eyes and swallowing a few times before looking at me again.
“Mom was already gone and Bree was crying so hard, I didn’t want her driving or trying to navigate any kind of public transportation.
Besides, there was nothing for her to do here. ”
I slung my arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her closer to me, moving slowly so we wouldn’t spill the tea. Turning my head, I pressed a kiss to her temple and detested the feeling of uselessness that spread through me, but right now, all I could do was be here.
We sat in silence for a while, just sipping our tea.
Then quietly, she started speaking, telling me stories about her mom.
She cried a lot. Even I got tears in my eyes at times, but I listened to everything she said and committed the tales to memory, silently thanking my lucky stars that I’d gotten to spend at least a few hours with the woman she was talking about.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled her under and she fell asleep with her head on my lap. It sounded like it’d been a long morning, so I was careful when I extricated myself, gently lowering her head to a cushion when I went to rustle something up for lunch.
Signs of her mother covered the entire apartment, containers marked with food in the fridge. Tuesday: Beef Stew and The good chicken soup. Her coats hung on the stand in the foyer and the scent of antiseptic and talcum powder clung to the air.
It was devastating, even to me. I straightened up some while she slept, ordering in groceries and some ready-made meals, and then making some sandwiches that I decided to serve with the good chicken soup.
She was quiet when she woke but ate a tiny bit and finally decided to get cleaned up. I ran her a bath, filling it with bubbles from the bottle I’d ordered with the groceries. Ellora stripped with me right next to her, probably not even realizing I was there.
For the first time ever with her, my body behaved itself, and I helped her into the tub.
I washed her and went to grab some fresh pajamas when she climbed out.
I stayed with her all night, her head on my chest in her bed, her breathing soft and uneven when she finally fell asleep again after we watched a movie together.
For the next few days, I didn’t leave her side unless I absolutely had to.
We handled the calls together. The funeral home, the service arrangements, and the endless small decisions that felt too cruel to make when you were grieving.
I kept her fed and kept her company, and on the day of the funeral, I stood by her side as we buried her mother.
The service was small but beautiful. Sara had more friends in the city than Ellora had been expecting.
People from her art community came, along with a few old neighbors and some friends who’d flown in from Chicago.
They filled the room with quiet laughter and fond memories, stories about her generosity, her humor, and her terrible singing voice.
Through it all, Ellora stood beside me, dressed in black and holding the little shell her mother had loved so much. She didn’t cry today, just smiling sadly but with her chin lifted in pride. She was so damn strong that it broke my heart all over again.
I looked around at all the people who’d come, and I thought, Sara would’ve liked this. She would’ve liked that her daughter is surrounded by love.
Back at her apartment after the service, the crowd had finally thinned. The last of the well-meaning visitors had said their goodbyes, leaving behind paper cups, half-empty casserole dishes, and too many boxes of doughnuts.
The place felt strangely quiet after all the noise and condolences. Ellora was still in her black dress, her red hair falling loose around her shoulders, and I watched her from the couch as she hovered over the dining table, picking absently at a glazed doughnut.
She took a bite, chewed slowly, and then looked at me after she swallowed. “Why do some people bring doughnuts to funerals? It feels weirdly cheerful.”
I leaned back, slipping my tie off and kicking away my shoes. “Maybe that’s the point. Doughnuts make sad people remember that sugar still exists. That has to make them at least a little bit happier, right?”
For the first time since I’d gotten that phone call, I heard her laugh. It wasn’t raucous and it didn’t last long, but soft and real was better than nothing. Carrying the doughnut to the couch, she sank down next to me and held it up in her palm.
“Would you like some?”
“That depends,” I said. “Are you offering out of love or pity?”
“I don’t know, you look kind of pitiful right now,” she teased mildly, nudging me with her elbow. “I haven’t looked in the mirror, but I’m pretty sure you look worse than me.”
“Great, then I guess I’ll take the pity doughnut.” I took a bite of it while it kept sitting on the palm of her hand. For a second, everything felt almost normal again.
Neither of us had been sleeping much, but we’d fallen into a comfortable routine where silence reigned supreme.
When she spoke, it was mostly about her mother and everything they’d done together.
Since I couldn’t contribute much on that front, I just listened and shared some stories about my dad when it felt right to do it.
Ellora took a bite of the doughnut, then offered me another. For a while, we just sat in silence, sharing the doughnut like a couple of kids after a bad day. The city hummed outside her window. Life went on as if nothing monumental had happened.
Ellora kicked her feet up on the coffee table and leaned her head against my shoulder. “I keep thinking I’ll hear her humming in the kitchen. Or calling me from her room. It’s so quiet now.”
I turned my head and pressed a kiss to her hair. “It won’t always feel this quiet. I promise.”
She nodded, not saying anything for a long time before she looked up at me again. “Thank you for being here.”
“Where else would I be?”
As she held my gaze, she seemed to realize that I was being completely sincere and she smiled. The sight made my chest ache in the best possible way. It was still sad, her heart obviously still beyond heavy, but underneath all that, I could feel something starting to form.
Like the beginning of okay.
She wasn’t there yet, and she wouldn’t be for a while, but at least she’d gotten through the funeral.
Now, it was up to her to decide how she wanted to live her life in the after.
It wouldn’t be easy. In my experience, it never was, but she would need to learn how to balance the grief with her life and I would be here for her every step of the way, for exactly as long as she’d let me.