Page 89 of When Fate Breaks
“Hey kiddo,” Dad’s voice cracks. When he leans in to hug him, Blake’s face comes into view. His eyes are glassy and emotionless, a dazed, out of place smirk on his face.
“Thank you for coming,” Blake says robotically, like he’s said it a hundred times today. His gaze flicks up, meeting mine, and his usually bright teal eyes have taken on a dull muted tone. A lump forms in my throat as I take note of the purplish circles under his eyes. Blake continues smiling as he hugs my mom. Something about him seems so wrong and disconnected. He seems so casual. He almost seemshappy. Or at least that’s the performance he’s putting on. Whatever this is, it’s not Blake. God, he must be in so much pain.
Stay strong.
Steph steps forward to quickly hug Blake and tell him she’s sorry before following the rest of my family inside, leaving me and Blake alone on the porch. His hands go into his pockets as he stands up straight as a board. I open my mouth to say something.Anything. But no words come out. Blake clears his throat, glancing down and back up to me.
“Hey,” he finally says, breaking the silence.
“H–hey–” I break off into a sob, tears violently spurting from my eyes. I clutch at my chest and shake my head, trying to push it away.
Way to stay strong.
Blake’s lip twitches once before he looks away, blowing a deep breath out through his nose. I wipe under my eyes, sniffling, as Blake steps forward and wraps his arms around me. My chest feels like it’s caving in as I try to calm myself down.
Annie, this is Blake’s dad’s funeral, dammit.Youshould be comfortinghim.
I didn’t think I was capable of crying any more tears for Kyle Di Fazio, but here I am. Seeing Blake, looking even more like his dad, just like every time I’ve ever seen him, brought the tidal wave flooding back in full force.How can he be gone?
“I’m so sorry, Blake,” I say, pulling back to look at his face. His eyes are still unreadable, his lips pressed into a tight line.
“Thanks,” he mutters.
* * *
The funeral is helddown by the lake.
My family is one of the last to file in. Since my dad is speaking, we have been reserved seats in the front row. We pass by Grammy a few rows back, her watery green eyes extra striking in contrast with her black sweater. She squeezes each of our hands as we pass, Dad leaning down to kiss her cheek.
Once we reach the front, we scoot past Mr. and Mrs. Destino, the elderly couple that has lived next door for the past thirty years and has always been so kind to us every time we’ve seen them over the years, and make our way to our open seats in the middle of the row. Steph is at the front of our line but, when she sees Blake sitting in the chair directly next to our open seats, she pauses, looking back at me and motioning for me to go ahead of her.
My stomach dips, not sure if I can do this, but when Blake’s lifeless gaze meets mine, I know that I have to. I nod at Steph, stepping in front of her to take the seat closest to Blake.
“Hi,” I say, sitting down and crossing my legs.
“Hey,” he replies with a smile that doesn’t remotely reach his eyes.
I look forward as the preacher starts the service, my attention zeroing in on the closed casket behind him. How can Kyle be in there? He had a whole life. A whole family. I’m sure so many dreams and aspirations for the future. Places he wanted to go. Things he wanted to see.
Like Blake growing up…
But now none of it matters. Now he’s…just a body. I feel bile rising in my throat just thinking about it. It doesn’t make any sense. And it isn’t fair.
The preacher starts by giving the general introductions on why we are here and who Kyle was. I’m able to keep myself together because it all seems so formal and impersonal, the exact opposite of who Kyle was.
My emotions go through a rollercoaster but still contain themselves as several other people stand up to speak. Kyle’s younger sister, Mrs. Destino, a friend of Kyle’s from the bank named Jim; they all get up there, sharing stories of Kyle from over the years and ultimately all end in proclaiming him a hero for what he did.An incredibly selfless soul gone too soon,as Mrs. Destino said.
I glance at Blake throughout the speeches, trying and failing to gauge his non-existent reactions. He’s as still as a statue aside from his head that is frequently swiveling between his mother next to him, the rest of the crowd, and whoever is speaking. I catch him letting out several light sighs, but otherwise, I have no indication of what he’s thinking, and frankly, it’s confusing the hell out of me. It’s as if he’s watching a boring baseball game rather than his father’s funeral.
It’s now my dad’s turn to speak and I know I’m going to break before he even reaches the podium. The first tear spills over just as he turns to face us all. Dad has discarded his suit jacket and has his dress shirt sleeves rolled up to forearms. He runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair before he begins.
“Hey y’all. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Brett Jacks. I am–wasKyle’s best friend.”
A sob catches in my throat and I let my head hang, my eyes falling shut.
God, this sucks.
I feel a hand on mine and freeze. I open my eyes, looking expectantly to my right at Steph but seeing her completely focused on Dad. I swallow down the lump in my throat and let my gaze fall to my hands in my lap, finding one of Blake’s strong hands covering them both. I glance up at him, his spine still steeled and his eyes staring straight forward, not a twinge of emotion on his face.
