4. Summer
The yawning mouthof darkness was the only thing I could see. Stretching tall and wide enough to fit a black steel box, and the pile of blood-red roses placed carefully atop it. The official crest of my family, created centuries ago, cut into the sides in silver and gold.
A testimony that this was actually happening.
Was that all that was left of my father?A lumped and distorted body of clay, silent and unmoving, despite the crashing thunder overhead and buckets of rain pouring down on all sides.
A clammy hand clasped mine: Callie’s. The only family I had left on this earth.
Only two years younger, but more innocent by about a decade. Her tightened hold on mine, fingers trembling with her grief, only made it seem that much more—it was because she’d been his favorite.
The low and gruff voice of the minister halted and my mind reeled, knowing this was truly the end.
A sealed casket.
Hope drowning, along with the casket lowering.
Despite the rain, a couple hundred people stood with me, crowded into the back of our property. And yet, I never felt so alone.
The minister—a man they called the Expiarus—stepped to the side of the crowd, the edges of a tattoo peeking out from his black, starched cassock.
He was watching me. With pale grey eyes, so washed out they blended into the sky behind him.
I felt invisible in that stare—like he could see through my skin and into my melting, pounding heart.
They were all staring—I could feel their gawking gazes boring into my back, ripping me open to gape at my grief.
Then the whispers trickled in, “what’s taking so long?”, “why’re we still here?”, “her father would be so ashamed…”
I didn’t know why they were all here. I’d never met most of them before today.
Mr. Stokes, dad’s lawyer, stood on my other side, resolute and respectful.
Benson, the grandfatherly butler I’d been raised with, was also here. His skin was pale, his figure older and thinner than I remembered. The humidity and rain fogged his gold-rimmed glasses as he sported his signature somber, black bow tie.
And yet, no sign of Garrett, even though I’d texted him several times, asking for him to come. The sting of his rejection only amplified my emotions - the emptiness inside me, the feeling that the weight of the world was on my shoulders. The knowing that I would just fuck things up, like always.
No one moved, the silence between us stretching for an eternity.
Was I supposed to be doing something? The only other funeral I’d ever been to was my mother’s, and I was only ten then. My father had done everything, from flower arrangements, the large and elaborate funeral, and afterwards, a wake. He’d greeted and thanked mourners who wanted to talk about their grief and the shock of her untimely death.
He’d been my bedrock, holding me tight when I’d cracked and fallen apart, whispering words of comfort that I knew were only words, but had made me feel better all the same.
And, with my sister, Callie’s hand trembling in mine, I knew it was my turn to bear that burden.
Straightening my back, I took a step forward, and it seemed as if they released a collective breath.
It felt like an eternity as I stared down at the black symbol of death, the chill from the rain seeping under my skin and making my bones ache.
I wiped my drenched hair from my eyes, heartbreak now rising inside me, filling the hollow cavity of my chest until it was up to my neck.
I suddenly couldn’t breathe.
The solemn and strong facade I was presenting was beginning to crack.
I wanted to scream and shout! To hit and kick the casket! To fall to my knees and sob and ask him why.
Why did he leave us? Why did he never tell me he was so sick? Why did he suffer so much in silence, then leave me reeling in shock at his hospital bedside.
The sharpness of the thorny roses in my hand bit into my skin. I was squeezing them so tight, a trickle of blood pooled in my palm. My fingers ached. My heart broke. My throat throbbed without air.
I was frozen, unable to move.
Unable to be strong enough for my sister, so young and gentle behind me, waiting for me to do what was expected of me. To be the strong one.
I never was.
I couldn’t toss the roses.
I couldn’t.
Because that would mean that he was really gone. That I would never see my father again.
See his bright blue eyes, warm like sunshine, filled with so much love that it was sometimes overwhelming.
His rich laughter that rolled through me, filling me with a happiness so large, I could take flight.
I could be anything when he told me he was proud of me.
I could conquer the world.
And now, all I was left with was a black casket, a breaking heart, and numb fingers.
The Expiarus cleared his throat, his understanding look boring into me. Are you okay? When I didn’t move, he gestured with a meaningful movement of his head towards the grave. “It’s time to say your goodbyes.”
The rain began to slow, the crowd behind me growing restless, and a gradual flame of mortification crept up the back of my neck and into my cheeks.
My heart fluttered, panic filling the emptiness inside and yet, I couldn’t let him go. I couldn’t choke out the ‘goodbye’ on the tip of my tongue, acrid and bitter in my mouth.
I was paralyzed, unable to move.
And then, a movement at the corner of my eye, a strong and powerful presence appearing by my side. A man I didn’t recognize but somehow, bore a familiarity all the same. He stood next to me, staring down at the grave, his dark voice a quiet rumble. “Let them wait. There is no rush.” He gave me a firm nod. “Don’t move until you are ready.”
The command broke the spell. The dam inside me cracked, silent tears streaming down my face for the first time since he died. I nodded, choking up with emotion, the “goodbye,” finally spilling from my lips. My bloody fingers unfurled, one by one, until soft petals and wicked stems fell from them.
There was an odd silence as we watched the flowers fall, and then a strangled wail broke it. A flash of black and blonde, a dark shadow in my periphery.
Mouth open in horror, I watched as Callie leapt into the air like a raven in flight. Except her sweet, little, innocent black wings weren’t strong enough. As if in slow motion, she descended into the belly of hell, chasing after a father she would never see again.
Never hear his voice on the phone or receive a large box in the mail.
Barrel out of the airport concord, a huge grin on her face that turned into a squeal of delight as she launched herself into his arms after so many weeks apart.
She’d been too young when my mother died, only eight years old, and remembered only scraps of her.
Her relationship with our father had been tightly cemented in late night bedtime stories and cooking chocolate chip cookies in a bright sunlit kitchen.
She’d adored him because he’d been both a father and a mother to her, the moon and the stars.
And now, she was sobbing and screaming, pounding on the lid to his casket.
Before I could react, the stranger jumped in after her.
Hand clasped to my mouth, I watched as he pulled her up and into his lap. She sobbed into his chest, his bespoke Tom Ford suit now not only drenched, but also sullied with red mud. After her tears slowed, he whispered words that I couldn’t make out and she nodded her head.
The Expiarus reacted swiftly, the funeral directors promptly obtaining a ladder.
The stranger’s hands were firm as he pulled her to her feet, holding her tight as she ascended.
Her eyes met mine, shame making her shoulders hunch, silently mouthing, “I’m so sorry.”
“No,” I shook my head, my own tears tracking down my face, her pain and grief ripping me open. “Don’t be.” I opened my arms and she clung to me while our world fell down around us.
And still, the stranger acted as a buffer, somehow blocking off the crowd threatening to overspill, holding them off until we’d gathered ourselves.
After a long while, Callie stepped away, wiping at her cheeks, and I met the stranger’s gaze. His eyes, black and as deep as a well, were clouded with concern.
“It’s okay.” I touched his arm and his fingers found mine, squeezing them, and a honeyed warmth filled me.
Then, he ran his palm up my arm, holding me. Not saying a word. His silence was grounding, his strength bleeding into me.
It was exactly what I needed as Benson and Mr. Stokes approached the grave. Then others, tossing their flowers into the gaping hole, the greedy mouth swallowing them whole until, what seemed like hours later, the line dwindled.
We stood there nodding, accepting their condolences, the four of us: me, Callie, Benson, and a man I’d never met in my life.
His solid but protective presence gave my knees the strength I needed to hold me up, to bow my head and gracefully accept the words from strangers who knew a side of my father I’d never known.
And then, finally, the mass of people trickled down until there were only a few left, and even the Expiarus left.
A gentle pat on my hand, words spoken from Mr. Stokes that he would meet with me in a week. Benson followed after him, his limp obviously worsened by the rain. He’d leave us to our peace, he stated.
I inhaled a deep breath, turning towards the strange man to thank him, but — he was gone.
I hadn’t even seen him go, leaving as mysteriously as he’d arrived.
I bit down on my lower lip, swallowing my thanks as I met the gaze of my sister.
Wrapping an arm around her, I pulled her to me as her sobs broke free again, now having the strength to be her bedrock.
We stood there for what felt like forever; me holding her, her wet tears on my neck, hotter than the steamy afternoon heat.
And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling of the burning gaze of unseen eyes, watching us from the shadows.