Chapter 17
Stella
We’re all seated, scattered around Hazel’s living room. The silence is deafening.
Hazel is rolled up in a blanket like a burrito. Beck’s giant golden retriever, Fish, is laying next to her with his head in her lap. He’s refused to move from her side since she got the call, sensing something was wrong with his person.
Losing a parent is always hard, no matter what kind of relationship you had. Watching Hazel struggle to mourn her mother while also feeling relieved brings me back.
Nessa has taken up the side opposite Fish, and I’m sitting in front of her, giving him head pats. Beck is in the kitchen making food that I don’t think any of us will be eating.
“What was it like?” Hazel’s voice is hoarse. “Losing your mom?”
I sigh, trying to find the words. “The same but different. She was sick for a long time, and seeing her that way hurt. We did our best to help. It was never enough. I think she took part of me with her when she died. Knowing she wasn’t in pain anymore…
the guilt of feeling better almost ate me alive. ”
Hazel’s fingers twine with my own.
“Is it selfish to be relieved?”
“No. It doesn’t mean you love her less, either. Putting down a burden doesn’t always feel good.”
The room falls silent again.
I listen to the stuttered, silent sobs coming from Hazel as memories flicker in and out of my mind. Nothing comes in the right order, but each one is a barb.
How bad the hospital smelled. How frail my mom looked in that bed. How her smile couldn’t make up for her sunken eyes.
At some point Beck brings in some food. I think it’s Greek. We barely pick at it. Beck scoops up Hazel and places her in his lap, allowing her to stay in her bubble of people.
Someone throws on a movie that no one watches.
I’m pulled back to a similar room.
Sitting in the corner of the funeral home as people stopped to offer their condolences.
Every well-intended word glancing off of me, unable to pierce the numbness I had wrapped myself in.
Speaking for the first time in days to plan the funeral when Dad was too distraught to get out of bed.
An angry nurse telling me to take my inconsolable father out of the room so they could bring Mom down to the morgue.
Everyone’s pity.
I’ll offer to help Hazel plan the funeral in the morning. I’ve done it before, so at least it won’t be as daunting for her. It’s all I can think to do.
Right now, all we can do is be there for her.
I wake up with the worst kink in my neck. Pushing myself up, I find the pile of blankets I fell asleep on half-stolen by Fish. He snuffles in his sleep as I detangle myself and flops back over, tongue lolling out.
I’m the only one left in the room, despite other makeshift beds laying round.
I stretch and make my way to the empty kitchen. Without seeing, I go straight to the fridge and grab myself orange juice and a slice of bread.
I stick the dry bread in my mouth while I pour a glass and make my way to the barstools at the island. I hunker down, staring off into nothing as memories bombard me.
My mother’s diagnosis. Hospitals. Treatments. She was so frail. Surgeries. Emergency surgeries. Hospice.
The funeral home.
A wrecked breath shudders out of me.
“Hey, Stella.” I hadn’t even noticed Beck come into the kitchen.
“Hey.”
“You good?”
“No.”
We stare at each other, steeping in silence before he starts pulling eggs and bacon out of the fridge. I’m about to get up and start helping him when I hear the front door close gently.
“Get out of the way, you’re going to massacre those,” says Maria in her lilted voice. She draws her coat over a chair while shooing him out of her domain. He takes a very full mug with him and starts to load it up with syrups and whipped cream. Hazel’s signature sugar coma in a cup.
Maria expertly starts preparing a breakfast for us, regardless of whether any of us have an appetite.
“Let me guess, he ordered pizza last night?” she asks as she gracefully whips her eggs.
“Greek.” My voice croaks. Beck had given up on cooking, unable to focus while Hazel was suffering in the next room. I only noticed the boxes later, along with the smell of something burnt in his garbage.
Well, he tried.
“Seems about right. Well, I’m going to make you all a decent breakfast so we can wallow while comfortably fed, okay?”
“Thanks, Ria.”
Beck gets up to wrap his arm around her shoulder and press his cheek to her hair before walking out. I hear him walk up the stairs, so he’s probably going to check on Hazel. Once he’s out of earshot, Maria looks over at me.
“How is she really?”
“Devastated. Relieved. Guilty about it all.”
Maria’s face softens. “It was complicated with them, right?”
“It sounds like it.” I’m so tired, and it’s not my place to tell Hazel’s story.
Luckily Maria seems to catch on and gets back to making breakfast. Instead of the bacon and eggs Beck was about to make, she pulls out veggies and feta and gets to work on a frittata.
I sip at my orange juice and bask in the wafting aromas, content to sit in this peaceful moment, ignoring the way my own heart aches at the familiarity of this.
One by one, everyone emerges from Hazel’s room where they presumably all slept. I must have fallen asleep first and got left on the couch, which is fine by me. I needed some space with all of the memories swirling around.
Nessa grabs the largest cup of coffee known to man and starts to chug it back, not bothering to add her usual almond milk that I know Beck keeps on hand just for her. Hazel follows with a cup already in hand from Beck and folds herself into a chair at the table.
When the doorbell rings, Beck only checks the doorbell cam on his phone and shouts “Door’s open!”
Shockingly, James walks in with a brown takeout box, silently moving to the kitchen and places a quick kiss on Nessa’s head, handing her the box before he moves to Hazel.
She looks at him for only a moment before the most surprising thing happens.
James opens his arms and Hazel falls into them, quietly sobbing.
He holds her for a moment, rubbing her back until she catches her breath.
“Thanks for coming,” she sniffles.
“Of course. I’m so sorry for your loss, Hazel. Is there anything I can do?” His face is pinched in concern.
Everyone had heard about what happened last year and how protective James got over both her and Nessa, I just didn’t expect to see it come out like this.
I didn’t expect to see him share this soft, gentle side that I thought he saved only for me.
I wish I could be jealous, but all I am is filled with gratitude that he’s here, supporting his friends, not afraid to show emotion or affection.
Beck’s mouth hangs open though, clearly not used to James’ softer side either.
Once Hazel catches her breath, James releases her back to Beck and joins me at the table, brushing his knuckles against my thigh under the tablecloth.
“You okay?” he asks, knowing how hard this is for me.
“Yeah.” My voice is cracked, and he sees right through it. People are picking at the pastries James brought, chatting softly, and no one is paying attention to us. James leans down and wraps an arm around me, tucking me against his warm chest.
“Come on, Stella. You’re my sunshine girl, nothing gets you down,” he says gently, finger combing the back of my hair. I quickly look around the room, nervous that someone has seen us, but everyone is off in their own little bubble or not paying attention.
“I know you mean well, but today the sky is falling, and I’m too tired to hold it up.”
“Then give it to me. Let me hold it for a while.” My eyes tear up and I nod before returning to my pitiful breakfast.
While everyone stares dully at their food, I whip out a piece of paper and pen that I stole from Beck’s office.
I start writing down everything I can remember about funeral planning; what they need to book, who they need to talk to, different options I had to choose from.
I try to write down anything that will make navigating this next step any easier.
Hazel’s mom never left a will and probably never had anything to leave her anyway.
Everyone begins to file out quietly, Hazel having passed out in the living room, napping fitfully.
Before I leave, I pull up the website for the funeral home on their laptop so they know where to start.
Hazel wants this behind her as soon as possible.
I don’t think she wants any of us at the funeral either.
The relationship Hazel had with her mom was so strained, and it put such pressure and pain on her other familial relationships that I think it will only be Hazel and Beck who attend.
I would offer to go, but I have my limits. I don’t think I can do another one of these funerals. The loss of a parent. The mixed emotions. I’ll be such a mess, and she doesn’t need that right now.
I start the long trek home instead, slipping out the front door after a quiet goodbye.
The cold nips at my skin, but it’s not unbearable, just windy enough that there’s a light swirl of blowing snow from the city rooftops.
I pause and take a deep breath, letting the chill scrape the inside of my lungs.
The dull pain is enough to ground me, to keep me from totally losing it.
Snowflakes whisper kisses onto my cheeks as I stand there, listening to the sounds of the city.
I allow myself a few minutes, collecting myself before I keep walking.
When I look up, expecting to see my apartment, it’s nowhere in sight. Somehow, my feet have a mind of their own and have brought me back to James’ building.
I don’t know what to do from here. I don’t want to invite myself in, and Maria’s not home, so I can’t bug her.
I could stand out here and let my feet freeze to the sidewalk.
I could throw snowballs at James’ window until he answers. Actually, I don’t know that he’s home either. Also, I was the worst pitcher on my softball team growing up, there’s no way I would hit that window.
It turns out, I don’t have to decide.
James opens the front door of the building, his face pinched and worried. I walk up the steps and past him silently, letting myself into his apartment.
I strip down to my leggings and t-shirt, wrapping myself in a blanket from the couch before huddling down. Barely a moment passes before James sits next to me and gathers me into his lap. I press my face against his chest, grounding myself in the steady, comforting thud of his heartbeat.
“You must be cold,” he murmurs, “after walking all the way here.” It comes out almost as a question. I nod into the warm expanse of his chest, refusing to pull away to look at him. “Why did you come here?”
My body goes tense. I didn’t mean to invite myself here. I don’t want to be an imposition.
“I’m not mad, sunshine. I would have driven you, is all. I want you safe.” I melt into his hold when he places a chaste kiss onto my forehead. That one kiss melts my resolve to be strong, and I dissolve, allowing the tears to overtake me.
I shake in his arms, letting myself feel everything I’ve been putting to the side for the last day. Every ache and pain of reliving the loss of my mother slamming into me all over again as I cry it out. James remains still, holding me while my strong facade collapses around me into rubble.
I cry for every birthday she missed. I cry for all the trips I never got to go on with her.
I cry that she had to leave so soon, before I stopped needing her.
I cry that I get to miss her while Hazel is confused and angry and hurt.
I cry that her tears won’t be only of grief of what she’s lost, but of what she can never have now.
When the tears stop coming and the tsunami of emotions stills, James is rubbing my back, and if I quiet myself enough, I can hear a faint hum coming from him.
I let myself reach up his chest and pull on the back of his neck, bringing myself as tall as I can to meet his lips. He offers no resistance, responding to my touch immediately. His grip tightens, our breaths quickening as he deepens the kiss.
When we come up for air, I’m left staring into a perfect, green abyss. His eyes scan over me like he’s looking for something to be wrong. He must not find what he’s looking for, and he leans his forehead against mine.
“You need a shower to warm up, sunshine.” He says it like it’s a fact, standing with me still in his hold, then walks over to the bathroom. “And I’m going to join you.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I grapple with my words. “It’s like every loss is happening all over again.” I need him to know… I’m not sure what.
“Can I comfort you, Stella, please?” He tilts my chin up as my heart takes off in a gallop. “Just for the storm.”
I nod. “Just for the storm.”