The Space Between Us(68)

I saw her sitting in the front pew right next to Reeve. I could only see her from the shoulders up, but I cherished every inch of her available. She looked thin, her neck slimmer than I remembered it, the pointy corners of her shoulders concerning. Her hair was pulled up into a bun but I could tell it was still long and I felt my breathing speed up as I remembered how I use to thread my fingers through her long tresses. I used her hair for comfort, for boredom playing with it while she did homework, and I used it to hold her where I wanted her. I closed my eyes tight, trying to fight back the images of her naked back, her hair wrapped tightly around my fist. I felt like the worst human possible, fantasizing about her at her father’s funeral.

Luckily, to the random funeral attendee, it probably looked like I was emotional over the death of the outstanding man we were all here to remember. But the overriding emotion I was feeling was regret, mixed with a good amount of lust. This would probably be the last time I ever saw her and that weighed heavily on me. I wanted to be the one sitting next to her, holding her hand, comforting her. I looked back to where she was sitting and didn’t see a man next to her, just Reeve. How could it be that she was here without someone? I couldn’t imagine she was alone in life. There’s no way she’s out in the world and no one was trying to snatch her up. So why was she here all by herself?

I was brought back to attention when the pastor stopped talking and a hush fell over the room. I saw Charlie stand and begin walking towards the pulpit. My breath caught in my chest as I saw more of her. She was so small and fragile, so tiny. At least, that’s how I saw her. I wanted to rush to the front of the church and hold her, protect her from everything she must be going through. The black dress she wore was conservative but still hugged her tightly. I remembered the way her waist curved into her hips, how her belly was toned and flat leading to the full roundness of her small breasts. She was far away, but I could see the dark circles under her eyes.

As she faced the congregation of people, she looked down at the paper she was unfolding in her hands. She took a deep breath in and we all heard it shudder as she exhaled. My chest clenched, wanting to be near her, to help her.

“When my mother died twenty years ago,” she began, her voice shaking, “my father and I were with her until the end, from her diagnosis, to her doctor appointments, to her treatment. Finally, when there was nothing left to do but keep her comfortable and wait, we waited with her. We sat next to her, spoke to her, reassured her as best we could that we would be ok and that we loved her.” She brought a tissue to her nose, pausing to collect herself. “I’m not sure if my father ever fully recovered from her death, from the absence of the one person he was meant to be with, but I know I didn’t. And in this moment,” she gave a quiet and soft laugh, “I’m a little jealous that he gets to be with the love of his life again, while some of us are still here, alone.”

“I understand my father’s choice to not tell me he was sick. I don’t agree with it, but I understand. It’s not surprising that even on his deathbed he was thinking of me, trying to protect me, to keep me from getting hurt. He was the best dad in that way. I think back to all the phone conversations we had while he must have been sick. He never let on that anything was wrong, never complained, never confided in me his fears of possibly dying.” She paused again and a small cry left her, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. I nearly shot out of my seat, rushing to her to stand with her, to be with her. “In his effort to protect me,” she continued, still upset and speaking through tears, “he robbed me of my right to say goodbye. I’ve had enough instances of goodbye in my life and I don’t want any more, but I’ll never get over the fact that I never got to tell him to his face, one last time, how much I loved him.”

I could tell she tried very hard to hold herself together and the tension in the room was thick. Everyone’s heart broke watching this young woman, just barely thirty, saying goodbye to her last parent. I wanted to take away all her pain, but more so, felt guilty that some of her pain, even if it was in the past, was caused by me. I hated myself a little bit more in that moment.

“I hope he can hear me and that Mom is with him.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. I knew tears had started flowing down her face. “I hope they all know how much I love them and how much I miss them. I will try to make them proud.”

The rest of the service was predictable, yet sad. I took deep breaths hoping to steady myself as I stood to sneak out of the church before the service concluded. I couldn’t risk Charlie seeing me. I came to the service to say goodbye to Charles, but also to satisfy some sick need to be near her, to see her one last time. But I wouldn’t bring her any more pain today by letting her see me. I left the church and tried hard to reconcile myself to the idea that I would never see her again. The last glimpse I might ever have of her was much like the one I had thirteen years ago.

Sad.

Crying.

Broken.

There was nothing I could do but go home and try to drown every piece of pain I was feeling, hoping to wake up feeling just as terrible because it was what I deserved.





Chapter Five


Charlie


I shut the door to my motel room and walked towards my car. I couldn’t bring myself to stay at my father’s house. I hadn’t even been inside it since I’d been back in Willow Falls. I didn’t know what to do about it and I figured I would have to go there at some point, but I was going to avoid it as long as possible. I wasn’t ready to see all of my father’s things waiting for him to return. Not ready to try and sift through the life he’d left behind. No. I’d let that wait for a little while.