Page 10 of A Boy Called Lovesong

Yes, she had gone all out.

Black veil.

Black dress.

Big black handbag.

Everything was black except for the shiny silver cross that she wore on the outside of her dress, so there would be no doubting her faith.

“Why haven’t you answered my calls? I’ve left a dozen messages, haven’t I Dennis?”

Dennis was wandering around the room, inspecting the items on our shelves, the pictures on our walls. “More than a dozen, I’d say,” he answered distractedly.

“More than a dozen,” Regina nodded. “More than a dozen unanswered calls. Noah, this is not the time to sit in a corner and cry, or curl up in a heap on the couch, as the case may be.” She glanced disapprovingly at the crumpled sheets piled next to me.

I quickly balled them up and dropped them behind the couch. “I wasn’t expecting visitors. At least not until…”

The wake.

Don’t say it, and maybe it won’t happen.

Maybe none of this needs to happen, because maybe he’s not even gone.

Maybe it’s just a big silly mistake, something we’ll all laugh about later.

I almost smiled at the thought until—

“What is that you’re wearing?” Regina was looking curiously at the jacket I had on, as though she had only just noticed it. “Is that Joel’s? It is. You’re wearing Joel’s jacket.”

“I… I…” I began to mumble. “It smells like cognac on a rainy—”

“Itishis jacket. I know because I remember giving him that jacket for his thirtieth birthday. Long before he met you. Why in heaven’s name are you wearing his jacket?”

“I…”

“And if I’m not mistaken those are his shoes too. They don’t even fit you properly, they’re at least two sizes too big for you.”

I was becoming confused. Regina’s voice was loud, and her words were beginning to muddle me. “Um, I’m sorry. What are you doing here, Regina?”

She scoffed. “My brother died. Why do you think I’m here?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking. Why are you in our house? Why did you drive two hours from Pennsylvania to see us?”

“To seeyou,” she corrected me. “We came to see you, Noah. You’re not an ‘us’ anymore.”

I felt her words dig the hole inside me a little deeper. “Yes. To see me. Why did you come to see me?”

Before she could answer, Dennis asked, “Where is this? Who’s that?” He was standing by the mantle and had already picked up a framed photo, pressing his finger to the glass and no doubt leaving a smear of fingerprints that should never have been there.

“Please don’t touch that.” I was already off the couch, easing the picture out of his hands.

“Why can’t I touch it?”

“Because… because I don’t…”

Because I didn’t want anything to move out of place, ever again.

I wanted everything to stay exactly as it always was.

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