Page 88 of Indigo

“Oh, but you can, and you will. I will see you next Thursday, David, and I’m warning you now, if I don’t, I’ll see you that Friday.”

“Are you threatening me?” he whispers into the phone, as if he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s talking to someone.

“You fucking bet,” I reply, hanging up and dropping the phone onto the porch beside me.

That conversation did nothing to curb my anger. If anything, I’m more worked up now.

Piece of shit fucking father. What kind of man doesn’t want to support his child when she’s grieving?

I bury my face in my hands and groan, not knowing what to do with myself anymore.

I’m like a bag of anxiety and tension. I’m so fucking lost. I don’t know how to fix any of this. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing.

I want to take every ounce of pain from Indie’s body, from her heart, and carry it instead, because seeing her like this is killing me.

But I can’t, and I feel like I’m failing her.

My eyes burn when I think of Lana. I miss her, and I feel like I’m not allowed to because she’s Indie’s mother, she’s the one grieving, but fuck, do I miss her.

I suck in a shaky breath, wipe away the tears in my eyes, and try my best to pull my shit together.

When I hear a door close moments later, I know Indie heard the conversation I just had. She was listening. She hasn’t been out of that room for a week. There’s no other reason she would have come out.

She’s upset, and I’m out here threatening her father.

God, yet another way I’ve fucked up.

???

On the day of Lana’s service, everyone in town attends, all of them teary eyed and full of sympathy for Indie as she stands at the entrance of the town hall.

Mrs Neil organised food for everyone, the teachers from school decorated the hall with paper flowers and handmade cards from the kids, Matt and Jagger printed photos of Lana and scattered them around the room for everyone to look at, and Paisley decorated the small wooden table holding Lana’s urn with freshly picked flowers from her backyard.

She would have been proud if she was here to see it.

The black dress Indie put on earlier is basically hanging off her small frame, which I guess, in a way, is better than feeling like your outfit is strangling you, like I do right now in this suit.

Her eyes remain on her feet as her body trembles beside me. I watch her wince every time someone tells her they're sorry for her loss, or that Lana is in a better place, and when we sit down, and “Dancing In The Sky” by Samantha Harvey begins to play, I see the tears stream silently down her face.

She reaches for me, for the first time in almost two weeks, seeking my comfort as she falls apart in her chair, and I hold on to it like it’s my fucking life line, because at this moment, it damn well is.

My girl doesn’t say a word for the duration of the funeral. Not the celebrant, not to Paisley or Jagger, who both sit beside us. She doesn’t even make eye contact with any of the crew from Shep Auto, or Josh, who all silently offer their support from behind us. She doesn’t look up as Mrs Neil tries to console her. She doesn’t reply when I try to whisper words of comfort in her ear to get her through the day. Nothing. She remains silent. Lost in her head.

She completely fucking shuts down in front of my very eyes.

It’s terrifying, and there’s only one person I can think of to talk to about it.

Her father didn’t show up. I can’t say I’m surprised, and I know damn well Indie is in no state for me to actually fly to the fucker’s home and kill him. Instead, I stroke her back as we stand to leave, and she raises her head, looking around for him.

It kills me as her shoulders sag. He doesn’t deserve to call himself her parent, that’s for damn sure, but she isn’t alone. She has me. She has this town. We will hold her up. We will get her through this.

If she’ll let us.

???

As soon as I’ve gotten her home, waited for her to shower and tucked her into bed, I call Paisley and ask her to come and sit in the living room at Lana’s in case she needs anything while I’m gone.

Paisley does so, without hesitation, and as soon as I’ve convinced myself that everything will be fine for half an hour, I climb into my car and make my way over to the one place I know will hurt me, and yet bring me closer to Lana at the same time.

---