Page 7 of When Sparks Fly

“I’m going to try and rest. I’ll be back in the morning. If you all need me, just call.” Randi hugs me on her way out.

Liv squeezes my arm as she follows. “See you tomorrow.”

Within moments, anxiety spirals through me. My skin feels tight and my eyes flit between Stephanie and Alan.

“I’m going to rest.” I don’t spare a backward glance.

I throw myself back on the bed, exhausted and angry. So fucking angry. I don’t want to deal with Stephanie and her husband right now. I don’t want to think about a will and what it means. I don’t want to entertain the town when they hear the news; bless them for being so thoughtful. I just need to be alone.

Several messages wait in the group chat, responses to my middle of the night texts.

Leah:

OMG. I’m so sorry! Do you need me to come over?

Are you in town?

OMG. Are Stephanie and Alan in town? They have to be right? You definitely need me to come over. Text me when you get this.

I respond with the basics.

Me:

I’m getting by. It will be a miracle if I don’t commit murder before this is all said and done. I’ll hold back for Nana.

Maybe.

I close my eyes. Nana would’ve patted my leg and told me to pull myself up by my bootstraps and get on with it. My anger reignites, now directed at myself, for allowing my emotions to get the better of me.

Vibrations on the bed draw my attention to my phone.

Leah:

Let me know when the service is and I’ll be there. Sooner if needed but I know how you are.

Izzy:

I’m so sorry honey! I hate that I’m so far away!

Me:

There’s no reason for you to be sorry.

There’s also no reason for you not to enjoy Hawaii. Take lots of photos!

I follow up with the memorial service details.

Needing to expend some mental energy, I swipe a pen and notepad from the drawer of the bedside table, leaving my phone behind and heading ontothe front porch. The wooden swing creaks under my weight once I settle. At least I can move my legs while I sit.

I maintain a constant rhythm, lulling my heart into a false sense of peace. The squirrels scavenge around the trees, no idea of the heartbreak going on nearby. Do squirrels mourn the dead? My mind conjures a tiny squirrel memorial in the middle of an asphalt road, but it’s immediately squashed—intentionally and unintentionally—when I realize that would result in more deaths.

A warm wind washes over my skin and I lean my head against the top rail of the swing, shutting my eyes. A long, heavy exhale follows the wind. One day, I won’t feel shattered inside.

When the feeling of wanting to jump out of my own skin passes, I lift my head and stare down at the notepad. I have no idea what I’m doing. How do you express a lifetime of love in a few sentences? I don’t know how to write a eulogy. I’ve never even been to a funeral.

I know why Liv suggested me. She and Randi would never be able to get through a speech. Stephanie would come across too cold. I’m the one who needs to pull it together.

I jot down a few notes to act as a guide. My emotions are all over right now and getting sidetracked isn’t appropriate, so it will still feel authentic. I take the paper with scribbles to my room where the little yellow bear stares at me from the pillows. A small smile pulls at my lips and I’m suddenly inspired.

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