Page 60 of For Fox Sake

I swallow back the tidal wave of emotions, shoving them down into a box, locking it up, and swallowing the key. There will be time for that later.

* * *

The days after Mom’s death are a blur.

All of her end-of-life planning was detailed out and paid for years ago, so that part is almost too easy.

Now, a week later, the day of the funeral has arrived faster than I thought possible. It’s a small, quick affair, with less than twenty people, local friends and acquaintances, plus a half dozen staff from the hospital. It’s held at the local cemetery. Mom is laid to rest next to Dad and Mia. It’s a beautiful day. Sunny, the sky dotted with fluffy clouds. The air is thick with sunshine and the smell of sweet, fresh-cut flowers, but my mind is only partially present.

I barely remember the past week, with a few stand-out moments.

Like when Elaine told me half of Mom’s cost of care had been miraculously eliminated because of some funding grant.

“It’s a thing people do. You know, a charity that pays for people’s medical care.”

“But... wouldn’t someone have told me? What’s the name of it?”

She brushed off my questions. “It’s a secret thing, you know.”

I don’t know, but I don’t have the energy to argue with her. Plus, it’s a huge relief.

The next memorable event is when I relay the news of Grandma’s passing to Ari. I waited until we got home from her friends, told her we needed to talk, sat with her on the couch, and just laid it out there. With kids, it’s best to stick to the facts and be clear.

“Grandma died. As you know, she’s been sick for a long time. We won’t be able to talk to her or see her anymore. But we have so many good memories, and we can always talk about her, whenever you want. She loved you very much.”

She frowned. “I’ll never see her, ever again?”

“No.” And isn’t that the rub? “She’s gone, sweetie.”

She sighed. “She’s with Mommy now. I bet Mommy is happy she gets to see her again.”

My heart twisted. “I bet you’re right.”

The rattle of the crank as Mom’s coffin is lowered into the earth jerks me back to the present.

After the brief service is over, most of the attendees follow us home, bringing casseroles and plants and flowers, all the things that are supposed to somehow help you deal with profound loss, along with platitudes like I’m so sorry for your loss and If there is any way we can help. How can anything help? No one can stop death itself.

But then I think fuck and remember Jake, and the darkness ebbs, a little.

He’s leaving soon. His rental contract is up in two days.

He left a letter on my porch yesterday along with a brochure for Camp Aria.

He didn’t tell me the camp was named after his sister. In fact, now that I think of it, he never said her name, not until the end. He really went through a lot of trouble to avoid saying her name—but I get it. I’ve gone through periods, especially right after her death, when I struggled to say Mia’s name.

I’ve read the note so many times, I’ve nearly memorized the contents.

I’m sorry. For my mistakes, and for the loss of your mom. I know an apology doesn’t make anything better, and it doesn’t take back what I did, but I wanted to give it to you anyway. I won’t bother you. But if you want to talk or punch me in the face, you know where to find me.

If you need to escape Dull for a weekend, or a week, there’s a bungalow in Whitby with your name on it. Just say the word.

Ari has asked about Jake three times. Each time, I deflect and change the subject or tell her I don’t know. I did tell her that he won’t be living here much longer. She stopped asking. The thought of him leaving, of moving back across the country, is both a relief and a regret. It’s the regret that kills me. I have to talk to him before he leaves, if only for closure.

As for his offer, getting away from Dull and going literally anywhere would be absolute heaven. But I couldn’t possibly go to Jake’s family home with him. It would be so strange, wouldn’t it? Visiting where Aria and Ted lived? Being around Jake and the rest of his siblings? Also I haven’t forgiven him yet.

Yet.

Does that mean I want to?

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