A Thousand Letters(60)

The snow crunched under my feet, hand in my pocket around my hat, and I was halfway across the courtyard when I heard my name from her lips.

I turned, my chest rising and falling with shallow breaths — I couldn't get more than a sip at a time, like I was suffocating — the air puffing from my lips in foggy bursts.

"Wait," she called, her face touched with pink, nose and cheeks and chin. Her eyes were big and dark, shining and shimmering. "Where are you going?" The words were broken, lilting with emotion.

"I can't do this," I answered and turned to walk away, but she grabbed my arm.

"Wade, please. You can't leave, not right now."

I turned to face her, my words cold and hard, like my hands, like my heart. "There's no reason for me to stay."

I tried not to watch the snowflakes that fell on her cheeks and melted, the specks of white in her hair and on the shoulders of her black dress, on her rosy lips that parted, trembling with the words she was afraid to say. They were words I couldn't wait for, words I'd never hear. So I walked away, leaving her standing in the snow, the darkness of her marring the blanket of snow like the gash of my heart.





19





Ground Zero





The quiet point

Of impact,

The sooty blankness,

Tells tale of all

That was lost.



* * *



-M. White





* * *



Elliot

I stood in Rick's library, surrounded by the chatter of dozens of people in black and the sound of Bach filling the spaces between, my eyes across the room on nothing, my ears straining to hear the front door in the hopes that it would mark his presence. But he never came.

Hours had passed since I'd seen him, hours that gave me no relief. And rather than speak to the guests who had come to pay their respects, I followed Sophie like a shadow, offering myself as support when she needed, even if it was just in the form of a warm hand or a word of encouragement as she handled the party by herself, without her brother by her side.

She kept a cellophane lid on herself, thin and transparent to me who knew her so well, but to everyone else, she seemed the picture of strength, accepting condolences and offering those of her own. She shepherded her sister, who was morose, attention turned inward, keeping her away from those who would pry, who would speak clumsily. Sadie's best friend had shown up just after the wake started, and the girls disappeared. I was grateful for that, because Sophie needed me. So there I was.

My family lurked around the bar, eating and drinking and gossiping until the kids finally had had enough. And with their exit, my burden was lighter. Jack hung back, asking me again if I was all right with his hand on my arm like I was his, and I let him because I didn't have the strength to fight.

Jeannie and Lou managed the gathering itself, their presence another blessing, Ben at Lou's elbow all day or answering the door, the honorary usher, everyone keeping things running while Sophie did her duty, even though I knew it took everything out of her, even though she wanted to be alone.

That's what no one ever tells you. Funerals are a selfless act, a long day of grief to share with others whether you want to or not. They're not about the ones closest to the impact of the loss — those closest must endure the arduous day with their grief put on display, a tamped down, quiet version of the screaming truth. The others feel the loss but don't have to hide it, don't have to pretend, don't have to give in a time where they have nothing to give.

But Sophie gave. She gave alone when Wade should have been there, shouldering it with her. But he was gone, not participating, grieving on his own. As much as I understood, I hated him for it. I hated him for running, for hiding, for grieving somewhere no prying eyes could see. I hated him for leaving Sophie here. I hated him for hurting her. For hurting me. For hurting.

And somehow, I loved him too, even though our love had been ground down to dust, blown away by the lightest breeze.

It was dark by the time the last guests had gone. I helped clean up the house and pack the food away, stopping only a few times to pour Sophie a very strong whiskey Coke. She sat drinking it silently in the library, her eyes on the fire, alone for the first time all day.

Sadie had gone to her friend's to spend the night, and Jeannie left a bit after as Lou and Ben waved goodbye in the hallway. His arm was around her, her body leaning against his, the two of them the picture of the exhaustion I felt. So I thanked them for all they'd done, which was more than they could ever be repaid for, and I sent them to bed, clicking off the lights behind them as I made my way back to Sophie.

Her eyes were glassy after the series of drinks I'd supplied, and she didn't look up as I sat down next to her in the dark room.

"He didn't come home," she said, her voice rough from disuse.

I drew a long breath, training my eyes on the fire. "No, he didn't."

"I can't believe I just did that alone."

"Me neither, but you did, and you did it well."

She chuffed.

"I mean it. You survived today, which was the sum of what you needed to do. Now it's behind you."

Her face fell, slipping into apathy. "Now I just have the whole rest of my life to live without Dad."