Chapter Twenty-Three
Julia
The funeral was…well, honestly, it was awful.
Not for Mason’s lack of planning. Turns out, he had it all scripted, from the whimsical rendition of “Master of Puppets” to the most insane-looking urn to a reading of several humorous poems. He picked the most eccentric celebrant, a friend he made in college, and despite the production, it was still, at its core, a funeral.
A celebration of life for the world’s most beautiful soul and the saddest good-bye to the best person I have ever known.
“You should eat something,” my mom insists, appearing by my side. She hands me a muffin resting on a napkin. It looks dry and unappealing, and the sight of it makes my stomach churn.
I take it anyway. “Thanks.” I need to find Alex.
Chloe rounds the corner and weaves through the sea of people jammed inside the Pestano residence. “Sarah’s an absolute mess.” She takes the muffin and bites right into the top, crumbs spilling past her lips. My mom sighs but doesn’t say anything.
My heart breaks for Sarah, Mason’s ex, who clearly did not want to be an ex anything. “Should we check on her?”
Chloe shakes her head. “Some of the dungeon guys are with her. They’re all in Mason’s room. It’s not…” She shakes her head and swallows roughly. “No.”
“Was Alex up there?” I ask. That was the whole reason Chloe ventured upstairs to begin with, to see if Alex was hiding in her room while I urged Brian to head home.
As nice as it was for him to attend, there’s no need for him to follow me around for the repast. Especially when I have no plans to leave.
At least, not for the next few days. Or for however long Alex wants me to be here.
Chloe shakes her head. “No, and she’s not hiding in the bathroom or the basement, either. I even checked all the closets. Are we sure she didn’t leave with Simone?”
“No, she was definitely still here when Simone left.” I remember because Alex came back inside after walking her out, shivering, and I rubbed her arms in an attempt to get her warm. Except I don’t think she was shaking from the cold.
“Maybe she’s out back?” My mom offers and shoves another pastry into my hands.
I hand that one to Chloe as well and send a quick text to Alex, asking where she is. We all stare at my phone, expecting an instant reply, and when it doesn’t come, I share a worried look with Chloe.
Lina spots us and excuses herself from her conversation. The bags under her eyes are heavy, and her face seems a little more hollow. I wonder if my mother has had any success in getting her to eat something. I can’t even imagine what she’s going through. “Have you girls seen Alex?”
“No, we haven’t seen her,” Chloe answers while I check my phone again.
“I tried texting. She isn’t answering.” Not only that, she hasn’t even read my latest message or picked up any of my calls.
Lina sighs, her shoulders dropping, unsurprised. “She isn’t answering me, either.” Richard comes out of the kitchen with another tray of tiny sandwiches, and Lina intercepts him. “Honey, have you seen Alex?”
“Yeah, she said she needed some air about fifteen minutes ago.” He glances at us, his own worry growing. “Is she not back?”
“Did she take her bike?” I ask, starting to have an idea of where she may be. Richard shakes his head.
“Let me try calling again,” Lina says and starts to ring her.
I touch her arm, stopping her. “I think I know where she went.”
When Chloe and I get to my house, Alex is slouched in one of the swings on the old playground, barely moving and staring at nothing across the yard.
She looks so small. Like a child. Gone is my larger-than-life best friend.
In her place is a shell of a woman who just lost her entire world.
What I wouldn’t give to have her wake up from this nightmare.
I send Lina a quick text to let her know we found her, then gently drape my coat over Alex’s shoulders and sit on the swing next to her.
Chloe shoves her hands in her pockets and leans against one of the support beams. The breeze is cold, the sun doing little to warm the chill in the air, and the only sound that fills the silence is the gentle rustling of barren branches and a few unbothered birds overhead.
I try to think of something to say, but no words come to me. At least, nothing I haven’t already said. Assurances that feel hollow even to me. Chloe must feel the same because when I glance at her, she’s staring at her feet and chewing her bottom lip.
Time passes slowly, measured only by our breathing. Even though the cold begins to seep in and I begin to lose feeling in my fingers, no one makes an effort to move. This moment is fragile, like a glass teetering on the edge of a table. A single move will cause it to fall and shatter.
“I’ve never been without him,” Alex says, startling both me and Chloe despite how quietly it comes out. “My whole life he’s been there. And now he’s just…gone.” A single sob slips from her lips, followed by the most devastating scream before she falls forward.
Chloe and I are there in an instant, holding her up before she crashes to the ground.
Sobs rack her body, her screams muffled only by my shoulder.
I close my eyes and hold her tight as she leans her weight into me.
Tears fall down my cheeks, and I clench my jaw so tight that I’m afraid my teeth may shatter.
But I won’t scream with her. Instead, I use every shred of strength I have to shelter her, keeping her safe and upright and loved.
Chloe wraps around her from behind, grabbing my arms so that Alex is trapped between us. We cry on the frozen ground until our bodies are spent, and we have nothing else for the universe to take.
Until Alex’s tears finally stop just long enough for her to attempt a deep, uncaught breath. It’s the first time she’s broken since his death, and it’s somehow so much worse than the silence.
She carefully moves, and we release her just enough for her to swipe the sleeve of my jacket across her nose. Her eyes are bloodshot, and just like her mother’s, there are dark circles beneath them. She hasn’t slept in days, and it’s clearly taking a toll.
“I would’ve given him mine,” she says, pressing her fist into the center of her chest. “I wish that I had because I don’t want it.”
My lower lip trembles, and I shake my head because, no, I think selfishly, if Alex gave up her heart, then she wouldn’t be around anymore. My heart would go with her, and we would both be dead because a world without Alex is something I don’t want to imagine.
“He never would’ve taken it,” Chloe says softly. She looks at me over Alex’s shoulders, a fresh set of tears on her own cheeks.
Alex closes her eyes, squeezes them tight, her expression full of pain.
I carefully put my hand on her cheek. “Alex…”
She scrambles to her feet, her eyes wide and panicked, as if my touch burns her. “I have to go,” she says, looking around frantically. “I need to get back.”
Chloe and I exchange a concerned look. “Okay,” I say, slowly standing, careful not to make any sudden movements. “We’ll walk back with you.”
“No. I mean, I need to find a flight back.” She runs a shaky hand through her hair. “I have work and rent. I have to get back to London.”
“You’re going back to London?” I ask at the same time Chloe says, “Babe, work isn’t important right now.”
But Alex is already backing away, either not hearing us or not caring. A conversation with Mason from only a few weeks ago flashes in my mind. She runs because she’s scared.
“You can’t just leave when things get hard.” This makes her stop. “You can talk to me. You can talk to us.”
Her expression shifts from panic to frustration. “I can’t stay here, Jules. Don’t you get that? This place…it holds all my worst memories. Mason, he’s everywhere. Except he’s not here. This place is filled with him, and I can’t. I just can’t.”
I understand what she means. I see Mason everywhere, too.
And, yes, it hurts to think I’ll never see him walk down the street or swing on this swing set or be in another Christmas photo ever again.
The realization is sharp and jagged and fresh, but it’s also laced with something good.
Because in those memories, I can hear him laughing.
I can see him chasing me and Alex around the cul-de-sac in a game of flashlight tag on warm summer nights.
He’s everywhere, and it’s painful and beautiful and bittersweet.
“Doesn’t it hold good memories, too?” I ask, hopeful that she can see some sort of light through the darkness.
“Not enough of them.” Her response is devoid of any kind of warmth, and it sends a shiver straight through me.
Mason’s death is monumental. His absence will be felt in every possible way, every single day for the rest of our lives.
But that doesn’t mean there aren’t wonderful moments here, too.
And to simply close the book on an entire lifetime’s worth of those type of moments, to just cast them all aside, well, it breaks something inside me.
“That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fucking fair, Jules,” Alex says taking a step closer, her eyes no longer shimmering with tears but raging with an anger I’ve rarely seen from her.
It makes me flinch.
“It’s cruel, and it takes, and it takes, and it takes,” she continues.
“Alex,” Chloe warns, putting herself between us.
“I can’t stop,” Alex yells, her voice scratchy and raw and full of grief. “Don’t you get it? I can’t stop because if I do, then I think too much. Then all this pain, all this constant heartbreak and disappointment becomes too much, and I can’t breathe.”
As if the mere mention of oxygen triggers something, she stops and takes several deep breaths, hyperventilating in a way that has me reaching out. But she steps out of my reach, motioning for me to leave her be. I watch as she bends over with her hands on her knees, struggling to breathe.
“It feels like I’m drowning,” she finally says, her voice cracking. When her breathing finally regulates, she stands and presses her palm to her chest. “We didn’t even get to see the Northern Lights.”
I slowly approach, sidestepping Chloe’s extended arm, her weak attempt to prevent me from closing the distance. My best friend is hurting, and I don’t know what to do to stop it.
Alex stares at her feet, her chest still heaving. When I reach her, I try again and gently press my hand to her cold cheek and tilt her face up to look at me.
“There are people here who love you.”
Her eyes dart from side to side, staring at my face like she’s trying to register what I’m saying. But her gaze is distant. As if she’s completely closed herself off. “Like you?”
It’s not her question that startles me but the tone of her voice. It sounds disbelieving, almost condescending. “Yes, of course like me.”
“Yeah, well,” she twists her head away from my touch, “maybe you shouldn’t.”
Her words slice through the pain like a kill shot. I know they’re coming from a place of hurt, but it still stings. “You’re just saying that because you’re scared.”
“Scared of what? Losing the people I love? News flash, Jules. That’s already happened.”
I try to tell her she’s wrong, that I do love her. That I’ve always loved her since we were seven years old. But part of me knows she isn’t in the headspace to believe it. So I stand silently while a cold breeze passes through the space between us.
“Not cool, Alex,” Chloe quietly says from behind.
Alex doesn’t back down or apologize. “I need some space,” she says, clearly doubling down, and walks through the gate, leaving my jacket hanging from one of the fence posts as she goes.
I start to follow, but Chloe puts her hand on my shoulder. “Let her go,” she says gently.
For the past several years, I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing: letting her go.
A lump forms in the middle of my throat, one that’s impossible to swallow. I should be used to this. Used to watching Alex walk away. She’s done it so much, I didn’t think it was possible for her to break my heart any more than she already has.
Turns out, I was wrong.