55. Taylor
Last November - MGK
Sun heats the room as it spills in through the colored glass of the church. Each sob echoes creating a chorus as it ricochets against the walls around us.
We sit in the first row. MaryClaire, Declan and Ryder to my right. Fiona stands at the closed casket of my best friend, kissing her fingers before placing them gently on the rich dark wood and turning to make her way back to sitting at my left.
It’s my turn, but I can’t seem to make my feet move. MaryClaire reaches over Declan to place her tiny palm on my knee, effectively snapping me out of my haze.
I climb the three steps to Devina. Well, what’s left of her.
I’ve already cried. Alone and with her. I already said my goodbyes, but no one knows that. They don’t fault me now. They think I’m in shock. In a way, I still am.
When the shot rang out, followed by Ryder’s screams, I sat at the edge of my bed knowing what she did. I’d known it would happen. I’d known it would happen like that. In the morning, when everyone was asleep. For seven days I sat at the edge of my bed waiting for the shot. As the days went on, I soaked in every opportunity to see her smile and watch her love the people around her. On the eighth day, it happened.
MaryClaire’s shrill scream sent me into a spiral. With my devastation festering deep inside me, it was the key that unlocked my rage. With one swipe, I cleared the frames and vase from the dresser, watching glass shatter around me. Dropping to my knees I sobbed.
I had been force-fed loss my entire life, until my body made room for the grief. Now it is just an extra weight I’ve adjusted to carrying around on my shoulders.
My heart broke but I knew it was what she wanted. I knew it was what she needed to be free.
She blushed when Ryder called her his sparrow. I saw it the morning of their wedding. I couldn’t be there, but I was watching through the cameras I’d installed. I couldn’t hear them, but his departure left her breathless and curious. She later confirmed what he said.
Devina was a sparrow. Born to be free and feel the wind against her face as she soared. She wasn’t made to be caged and hung like a trophy. She was made to explore and be admired for the kind of beauty only nature can bestow upon you. Her voice was a song. A melody that carried straight to your soul, leaving you breathless and wanting more.
MaryClaire’s sniffles bring me back to the present. I bowed my head to whisper my last words of love and promises. It was mostly for show. I really wanted to curse her for leaving me. I wanted to stay angry. But how do you stay angry at someone for dying on their own terms when death is waiting on the porch, ready to kick the door down?
MaryClaire and Ryder took their turns saying goodbye.
Ryder’s shoulders slumped as he knelt to place his forehead against her casket. Tears flowed freely as he held onto the pink letter she left him. A letter similar to the ones I will have to pass out shortly. The one I still haven’t brought myself to read.
Music plays as the ushers surround her to carry her to the grave site.
On top of the hill, she is lowered below. Rain begins to fall. She’s with us. I look to the sky and let her tears kiss my cheeks. She didn’t want to leave, but death would not allow her to stay. Death, I’ve learned, is a real son of a bitch.
Ryder stands at the foot of her grave. His posture is stoic, but I know his heart is still stained by her blood and tissue. He gives us a nod, dismissing us without words. I know he has none. Fiona braces herself on Declan’s arm and I gently place my hand on the small of MaryClaire’s back to guide her away. She didn’t know Devina long, but I could see the genuine love they shared. She filled the gaping hole in Devina’s heart that was made the night Scarlet was taken from her. Seeing her so frail today is a stark contrast from the usual bubbly version of MaryClaire I tolerate. As she leans into me to keep herself standing, I secretly would give anything to have the normal version of her right now.
We are all silent as the cars bring us back to the estate. Once there, I wait for Fiona to break away before handing MaryClaire and Declan their letters. I haven’t read them. Hell, I can’t even read the one with my name on it. But they both hug me as if I gave them some kind of closure. It wasn’t me. I knew this would happen. I let this happen. If they knew, they’d hate me.
* * *
Staring at the pink envelope on my dresser, I curse Devina for leaving how she did. She was my best friend, my little sister. I knew her better than she knew herself, which is why I knew that talking her out of her plan was impossible. Once she’s made up her mind about something, you are either going to help her or get the hell out of the way.
Needing something to numb me, and having given Devina the rest of my stash, I decide on something more … legal.
I head down to the library to break open one of Ryder’s whiskeys, only to find him already there, sitting in one of his oversized leather chairs.
“What’s the cure tonight?” I ask approaching.
“Scotch.” He doesn’t look at me. His eyes are trained on a piece of paper.
I pour my drink and make my way back toward him, seating myself across the small table from him.
He takes one last swig, emptying the contents of his glass before tossing the piece of paper on the table. It’s a photograph. I don’t reach for it. I know what it is.
“Did you know?” he asks, his eyes finally meeting mine.
“Yes.” There is no point in lying. He can throw me out. Devina isn’t here anymore.
He wipes his face with the palm of his hand. I brace myself. I know how to gauge Ryder in Devina’s presence. Without her, he could certainly fly off the hinges. Fuck, I’d put a bullet in my head if I were him.
Too soon?
Not that it would bring her back, but it might make me feel better for a minute or two.
“It was him.” A statement, not a question.
“Yes,” I confirm, staring at the picture of his father.
My breathing stalls. I know I can’t sway him. He has to make this decision on his own. Nico’s death was planned justice for my mother as much as it is for Scarlet, but I’m not sure he knows that part of the story or cares. I’d give anything to have my best friend back, to have my mother back. But I’d settle on watching the life leave that motherfucker’s eyes.
He stands, placing his glass on the coaster.
“I know what you need me to do, sparrow.” He says to her, ignoring me.
Devina came to him broken, a shell of herself. He loved her back to who she was meant to be.
To know that kind of love is as rare as it is to catch a sparrow.