The Long Weekend

by Mimi Flood

  The weather had taken a turn and I now sat chilled, wishing I had worn something warmer than my thin cotton cardigan. My father, always the gentleman, had wrapped his jacket around my mother. I could see him shiver a little but refuse my mother’s offer to give it back to him.

  Suddenly, someone sat in the empty chair next to me. Without looking up, I recognized the solidity of his body, leaving me no doubt as to who it belonged to.

  “How are you doing?” Devon asked, his voice warming me from the inside out.

  I felt as if he wanted to wrap his arm around me but thought better of it.

  “Alright,” I lied. “At least I didn’t have to speak.”

  Devon let his hand rest on my knee, slightly open as if it was an invitation for me to hold it. I hesitated at first, not wanting to give the wrong impression, but my emotions were starting to get the best of me and I felt the need to hold onto something. I placed my hand in his and felt his fingers lace themselves through mine, filling me with that familiar sense of security.

  Then, the pastor read a short passage from the Bible, but I heard nothing of what he was saying. My mind was too filled with commotion. The priest soon stepped aside and let Valerie take his place.

  She unfolded a small piece of paper, her hands shaking ever so slightly. She cleared her throat and began to read:

  “Why cry for a soul set free? Miss me a little, but not too long and not with your head bowed low.”

  I felt Devon’s hand squeeze mine. I looked up and saw his eyes were filled with pain.

  “When you are lonely and sick of heart, go to the friends we know and bury your sorrows. Miss me but let me go.”

  Valerie finished reading, folding her paper up and started to cry, bringing everyone else to tears—even me. Devon’s hand tightened on mine. Though I had heard the words before, the poem echoed my loss and the gravity of the situation hit me. A small sob escaped my mouth as if a cork had been removed from a bottle.

  They began to lower the coffin, painfully slowly, and I could feel my heart constricting like someone was squeezing it tight with their hand. The tears came pouring out and I found I was unable to stop them. My mother handed me a tissue, but I knew it would be useless.

  Devon’s arm was around me within seconds, as he pulled me to my feet and led me away from the crowd. I was embarrassed by my sudden lack of self-control but was relieved to have him near me, that he’d had the predilection to take me away from there. We walked through the tombstones, as far from everyone as we could get and sat down on a bench.

  “I thought I could keep it together,” I said in between sobs. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you apologizing?” he said, placing his unoccupied hand on mine. I shook my head, unsure why I felt guilty for showing grief. “You have every right to be sad, Elle. And this is the one place people won’t think you’re nuts if you cry in public.”

  “I suppose,” I laughed, wiping away tears. “Beautiful eulogy, by the way. She would have loved it.”

  I wanted to ask what his inspiration had been, if any part of what he had said was directed at me, but chose to remain quiet.

  “Thanks, I meant every word of it. It came to me last night, ironically, out of nowhere. As if she’d been there, whispering the words in my ear.” He smiled and looked away.

  I followed his stare and saw the names inscribed on a large, granite tombstone—David and Micheline Barrett: Devon’s parents. I tightened my grip on his hand.

  “The tulips are beautiful,” I said, seeing the newly bloomed white flowers planted by the grave marker.

  “Valerie plants them every year.”

  “Do you come often?”

  He shook his head, frowning. “Not as much as I should.”

  “They’re not really here, though, are they? So I guess that’s OK.”

  “I guess.”

  I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling him kiss my hair.

  “Thank you, Devon, for being with me this weekend. I don’t think I could have handled all of this without you.” I felt the weight lifting off my chest as I spoke. “I know it’s all ending, but I just wanted you to know, to understand, how important it was to me. How grateful I am.”

  “It’s all ending, is it?”

  Someone behind us cleared their throat and I felt a pit in my gut. We both turned around, my fears confirmed.

  “What are you still doing here?” I shouted, dropping Devon’s hand.

  “Who’s this guy?” Paul asked, ignoring me. Sticking out his chest, he resembled an animated cartoon character.

  Devon stood up and offered his hand, introducing himself, apparently unbothered by Paul’s interruption.

  “Hi, I’m Devon Barrett. I’m a family friend.”

  I watched the two men sizing each other up and couldn’t help but notice that as tall as Paul was, Devon was slightly taller. Paul seemed aware of that fact and stretched his body a little bit more.

  “Family friend?” Paul replied, condescendingly. “If you’re such a good friend, then why has she never mentioned you?”

  “Not sure,” Devon said, giving Paul a once-over. “Then again, she’s never mentioned you, either.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Paul countered as if he was rearing for a fight.

  I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Guys, stop. Paul, you really should leave.”

  “It’s fine, Elle. I’ve got to go, anyway,” Devon said, ignoring Paul. He turned to me, “I’m going to stop by the stables before heading to the reception.”

  I nodded and forced a smile, knowing how hard the rest of this day would be.

  “I’ll see you there.”

  “Stables?” Paul snickered, as Devon walked past him. “You work with horses? You’re a stable boy?”

  I heard the condescension in his tone, his face smug, overwhelming me with the intense desire to smack him.

  Stepping closer to Paul, Devon grinned. “You would assume that, wouldn’t you? Actually, no Paul, I own horses.”

  Devon walked away, beaming with confidence and pride, and I couldn’t help but smile. Paul shook his head and tried to act unphased, but I could tell he had definitely been put in his place.

  “Interesting,” he eventually said once we were alone. He laughed a sardonic laugh. “It all makes so much sense now. He’s why you suddenly like horseback riding so much?”

  “I’m warning you. Drop it.”

  “Well, I hope he at least gave you a good ride.”

  Abruptly, my hand made contact with his face. I had never slapped anyone before, and though I could feel the sting on my palm, I had to admit that I felt invigorated.

  “Get the fuck out of here, Paul.” I was poking him in the chest, forcing him to walk backward. “How dare you come here and ruin my grandmother’s funeral. Go! Leave!”

  “Come on, I’m not going anywhere until we have a talk.”

  “What the hell do you and I have to talk about anymore?” I realized I was shouting and knew I was attracting some attention from the people nearby. “This isn’t the time or the place.”

  “Then I’ll wait,” he said. “I am sure your parents would love for me to stick around.”

  I looked at him, incredulous.

  “Damn it, Paul, why are you being such a—”

  “—If Ellie says you’re no longer welcomed, then maybe you should listen to her,” my mother said, appearing out of nowhere. She wrapped her arm around me. “Why don’t you go home, Peter.”

  “It’s Paul,” he corrected, offended.

  “Right,” my mom replied. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? Now, fuck off.”

  Looking insulted, his ego clearly bruised and attempting to save face, Paul turned and left without another word. I watched him get into his car and speed away; wondering if this time it would finally be for good.

  “Mom, that wasn’t very polite.”

  I tried to seem genuinely concerned, but couldn’t stop from grinning. She shrugged and kissed me on the he
ad. “You deserve better, Elizabeth.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  I walked with my parents down the street to the restaurant where the reception was to be held. Le Ruisseau was the town’s go-to place for terrific French cuisine. It was also run by my parent’s friends, Roger and Marie, and so naturally, it had been offered as the place to hold the funeral reception.

  The quaint and romantic bistro-style restaurant was now packed with far too many people, all of them mingling and drinking. Most of the tables had been moved out of the way, only a few were left on the perimeter of the dining room.

  I mingled as much as possible, trying to ignore the troubled feeling I felt deep down. I spoke to people I didn’t even know, keeping an eye on the door for Devon, wondering where he was and when he would stop by. A part of me secretly wished he wouldn’t show up—if only to make my leaving less painful. I hadn’t thought so far as to when I would leave town, but now that it was lingering closely, I started to feel more and more anxious about it. I hated goodbyes, and now with my decision set and finalized in my mind—as much as it would ever be—I was dreading having to talk about it with Devon. But I knew I had to.

  I went to the bar and ordered a drink—a gin and tonic this time—I needed something a little stronger to settle my nerves. I looked around, trying to find somewhere to sit and get some time with my thoughts but soon realized that privacy wasn’t remotely possible in such cramped quarters.

  Finding a small two-seater table at the back windows, near the kitchen, I sat down with my drink and watched the river streaming down below. Alone with my thoughts, I hadn’t even heard Nicole approach me.

  “Mind if I sit down?” she asked. Not bothering to wait for my answer, she pulled out a chair.

  “Go right ahead,” I said, trying to stay polite but feeling rather annoyed.

  Great, this won’t be awkward at all.

  “How are you doing, Ellie?” she asked, directly. There wasn’t any sign of empathy in her tone.

  “I’m fine,” I answered. I looked around to see if there was any escaping. “You?”

  “I’ve been better,” she was serious. “It was a beautiful service, wasn’t it?”

  Her question surprised me. I had assumed this was where she would confront me as she had at the bar. I wasn’t in the mood for conflict, especially not under current circumstances, surrounded by so many prying ears.

  “It was.”

  I was trying desperately to keep a calm demeanour and forget the ice in her stare the last time I had seen her. There was a quiet pause between us, both of us seeming uncomfortable and uncertain who would speak first.

  “Listen, about Devon,” she finally began.

  “Nicole, not here,” I interrupted. “Please. Can we talk about this someplace else?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “It’s really important that I say this. Now.”

  I shook my head not wanting to hear it. I couldn’t believe she was choosing this moment to say whatever she was about to. I had just laid my grandmother to rest. Didn’t she have any respect for her?

  “Look,” I snapped. “I know it’s complicated between the two of you and I’m not trying to get in between.”

  She giggled, catching me off guard. It wasn’t at all the reaction I was expecting.

  “See, that’s the thing,” she said, leaning over the table, getting closer. “You are between us now.”

  “Then maybe you should talk to Devon about this,” I replied, pushing my chair back and standing up, exasperated and honestly, a little bit scared.

  “I have.” She grabbed my wrist. “Please sit down. Just give me one minute. It’s important.”

  I hesitated, breathing hard, my heart racing. I looked around and was saw no one seemed to be paying us any attention. Reluctantly, I sat back down.

  “I’ve spoken to Devon about all this and that’s why I’m talking to you now. He called me last night after you left his place.”

  I sat back, stunned. How could he have called her after spending hours with me? Images of Devon sharing details about our private time together filled my mind, but I said nothing and let her continue.

  “I’ve never heard him talk the way he did, Ellie. He seems really taken by you.”

  I shook my head in disbelief, about to cut her off, when she continued.

  “Despite what you might think, I’m not out to get you, Ellie. I’m not such a horrible person.”

  “I never said you were,” I said, trying to sound convincing, but I could hear the uncertainty in my voice.

  “Maybe not to my face, but I’m not stupid. I know you don’t like me, and that’s fine. But I care about Devon and I want him to be happy. And as much as I wish him and I had a future, the things he said to me last night prove that we don’t.”

  Curiosity was killing me. I wanted to know what he had said, but I was also glad she wasn’t about to share. I felt that hearing how Devon felt would just make everything that much harder. Besides, I was pretty sure I already knew.

  “I’m sorry, Nicole. I wish things were different for you two.”

  “No you don’t, but thanks, I appreciate that,” she said, sipping on her drink. “Can I ask what you plan to do with him?”

  “Do with him?”

  “You don’t seem to keen on this going any further than it has.”

  “Why would I want it to go any further?”

  She looked at me sideways with a grin. “You can’t see it, can you?”

  “See what?”

  My heart was in my throat and I knew exactly what she was about to say. My leg began to fidget beneath the table, my nerves increasing. I kept hoping she would just leave and stop talking. I knew she wouldn’t, though.

  “How crazy he is about you.”

  Great, she’d said it.

  I shook my head. “It’s just a crush. It’s a challenge to him.”

  “A challenge?”

  “Yeah,” I explained, keeping my composure as best I could. “It’s a game. The distance between us, the fact that it can’t work, that piques his interest. Let’s face it. If I lived here and if he saw me every day, then I’m sure it would fade.”

  “Wow,” she said, laughing. “And here I thought you were a smart girl. The man is falling in love with you but you can’t see it. That’s really sad.”

  “I think you’re the one seeing things.”

  “What I see is that I wish he felt one-tenth for me what he feels for you,” she said, taking a sip of her mimosa, gauging my reaction. I remained as neutral as I could, letting her words sink in. “But if you truly aren’t interested then that’s good news for me.”

  “Why are you even telling me this?” I asked, my anger spilling over. “If you still care for him so much, wouldn’t it be better if I left town without knowing this.”

  “Trust me, I’ve considered that.” She turned in her chair and looked me in the eye. “But, above everything else, I just want him to be happy. And if it’s not with me, then so be it.”

  I doubted her altruism. She appeared to be honest and well-meaning, but still, though I tried to stop myself, I laughed just the same.

  “I’ll think about it,” I replied, between giggles.

  She nodded, stood up and walked away. And just like that, our conversation was over.

  My drink was sitting on the table, untouched. I drank it all as quickly as I could, feeling the alcohol burn my throat. I looked around at the crowd. The restaurant had filled up a little more since I had shown up. The room was easily filled with a hundred people or more, and yet, I never felt more alone.

  I checked in on my parents who were in much higher spirits than they had been that morning. Several times I caught them lovingly embrace. It comforted me knowing that at least they had each other to help with their grief. Seeing them together, chatting with friends, I thought that maybe this would be the best time to leave. I was horrible at goodbyes and this one wouldn’t be any different, of
that I was sure. The idea of having to say farewell to them this time around felt like an impossible feat—one that I would gladly avoid if I were given the choice.

  I was headed for the exit when I locked eyes with those impenetrable green eyes on the other side of the double doors.

  “Where are you headed?” Devon asked, shutting the door behind him, positioning himself between me and freedom.

  I felt relief and anxiety hit me at the exact same moment. As much as I had craved his company an hour earlier, now, with Nicole’s words so fresh in my brain, I felt scared, even more so than he usually made me feel.

  “Home,” I replied, attempting to walk around him.

  “Really? But I just got here,” he said, looking disappointed.

  “You can stay.”

  He moved aside allowing me to push the door open. Nearly bursting out of the stifling restaurant, I felt tears bubbling up and desperately didn’t want him to see me crying.

  “Elle, wait up.”

  I stopped in my steps and caught sight of a few onlookers outside for a smoke.

  “Where’s Paul?” he asked and I noted the contempt in his voice.

  “Gone,” I replied, the fact bringing me a morsel of comfort.

  “And how are you getting home?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “I didn’t think that far ahead. He was my ride, so I guess I’ll walk.”

  He shook his head and put an arm around my waist.

  “Let me give you a ride.”

  I looked around, considering my options. The walk home would be several kilometres and I was in no physical shape to make that walk.

  I knew I shouldn’t get in his car, and that it would only lead to the inevitable but I knew I couldn’t ignore it anymore and that it had to be dealt with, once and for all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  When we pulled up to my parents’ house, I was in full panic. I knew very well Devon wasn’t going to just leave me alone, no matter what I said to him. He would want to know what had happened with Paul and why he had caught me in the middle of an attempted getaway. Inside, the house felt cold and dark. We walked into the living room in total silence.