Page 90 of When Fate Breaks
“I’m not good at this stuff,” Dad continues, returning my attention to him, “and Kyle knew that. I’m sure he’s giving me shit from the clouds right now.” That gets a hushed laugh from the crowd. Dad lets out a deep breath.
“You know, I was thinking about what I should say the entire plane ride here. Thinking about what would do Kyle justice. What funny story I should tell or meaningful life insight I could share but, after hours of wracking my brain, only selfish thoughts kept popping up. The main one being an epiphany I had. Kyle and I have been friends for nearly forty years.Bestfriendsfor thirty.”
“I realized that–” Dad pauses, blinking hard a few times and shaking his head. “I realized that I probably don’t have enough years left to have another friend as long as I had Kyle.”
My lips part, tears freely streaming down my face.
“But, you know what?” Dad continues. “That’s okay. Because nobody would live up to him anyways. And he knows that. To a great father, loving husband, and anincrediblefucking friend–shit, sorry for cussing, Emily.” Nearly everyone laughs, Emily the hardest of them all, and there’s not a dry eye in the place.
Blake shifts beside me and I glance up to see him looking blankly at the sky, his lips just barely pulled up at one corner. Okay.Onedry eye, apparently.
“To Kyle Di Fazio. We’ll never forget you, brother.”
* * *
After the service,caterers showed up with food for the funeral guests while immediate family and a few select others, including Dad, made their way to the cemetery across town for the burial.
I tried my best to make small talk with Grammy and a few other people I had met at the Di Fazios’s over the years, but my stomach was in too many knots to have any sort of meaningful conversation, much less to eat anything. All I could think about was Blake.
I had to busy myself or I was going to go insane. I started doing the caterer’s jobs, picking up empty plates from guests, washing dishes, taking out trash. Anything that could keep my mind occupied for another second until Blake got back.
An hour came and went and they still hadn’t returned from the cemetery. It seemed that everyone currently at the house and planning to eat had already done so, so I started consolidating the food, leaving enough out for those coming back to the house while packing up the leftovers to store away in the fridge. At this point, the caterers were just standing aside and letting me do my thing. I probably had mycrazy eyeson as Leah has always called them.
I just shove the last tray of leftover deviled eggs into the fridge when I hear the sound of crunching gravel outside. I close the fridge door, turning to look out the front windows across the house, spotting several vehicles filing into the driveway, including Blake’s truck.
A majority of the congregation still left at the house swarms straight for the door as it opens, wanting to speak to and comfort the family. I see my dad come in first. He spots Mom and Steph closest to the door and makes his way over to them, Mom rubbing his shoulder when he reaches her. I stand on my tip-toes, looking over everyone's heads to see several people make their way through the door. Emily comes in about halfway through the pack, still managing to look radiant despite her red cheeks and swollen eyes. A handful of people make a beeline straight for her, not noticing Blake sneaking through the door last.
Air feels like it finally reenters my lungs for the first time since he left. I charge straight for him, but he doesn’t even look in my direction as he makes a hard right and slips down the hallway. I nudge through the small crowd of people, placing a hand on Emily’s arm and giving her a sympathetic smile as I pass her before following after Blake.
There’s only a few rooms down this hallway, so I trust my gut on the one he probably went to and am right on my first guess. I push open the already cracked door of Kyle’s home office, seeing Blake standing against the window, something shiny reflecting the sunlight in his hand. When he brings it up to his mouth and throws it back, I realize it’s a flask.
Crap.
Blake seems to notice me in his peripheral vision as he glances my way. He barely reacts though, turning his body maybe a quarter of an inch in my direction as he takes another drink from the flask before capping it and slipping it into the inside pocket of his jacket.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” Blake responds nonchalantly.
“I, uh, put away most of the food from the caterers,” I stammer. “There’s still some out if you’re hungry, but the rest of the leftovers are split between the inside and outside fridge. They brought some kind of cheesecake bites. I saved a few caramel ones for you.”
“Thanks,” Blake says, turning to look out the window again.
Frustration bubbles in my chest. “Blake?”
“Hmmm?”
“Please… Please say something.”
Blake turns back to me, eyebrows slightly raised.
“You’ve said no other words besides ‘hey’ and ‘thanks’ to me in the last week and I…I just…I want to be here for you through this. I want to know what you need. What you’re thinking. I just want you to say something. Anything.”
Blake studies me for several seconds, the first solid facial expression I’ve seen from him today crossing his face as his brows pinch together, his lips rolling into his mouth. He slowly removes the flask from his pocket, taking another swig from it without ever breaking my gaze. He screws the lid back on, setting it on the bookshelf next to him.
“You want me to say something?” he repeats.
“Yes,” I whisper.
