I take Noah’s hand and enter the church, walking down the aisle, toward the pulpit. An enlarged picture of Sunday faces me, and my throat closes up. I look to my right and see eyes on me, and then I swing my head to the left and get the same. My suit feels too tight, and there must be sweat lining my undershirt. I’ve never felt more uncomfortable in my own skin. The only effort I can manage is the nod I give Benson as he holds Madison, who weeps into his shoulder in the pew behind ours.
Noah’s fingers dance across my wrist, and she provides me a small bit of distraction until we reach our seats. In the pew, I sit between my mother and my girlfriend. I can’t take my eyes off Sunday’s photo. The priest drones on, and periodically, members of the congregation cry out. I get lost in my head, wishing I were anywhere but here. My mother gives the eulogy, and I’m sure she has beautiful words to say about Sunday, but I don’t hear a word of them. Nothing beautiful can be said about this.
It’s ugly.
So fucking ugly.
When it’s over, I leave the church quickly, and Noah follows me out. In the back of my mind, it registers how often I’ve left my mom alone today, and that makes me a horrible son. I can’t do everything right for everyone and myself. Hell, look at how bad I failed Sunday. Look at how bad I’ve been failing ever since.
Once I’m outside, I heave in air as quickly as my lungs will allow. Mentally, I’ve thrown my clothes into the fire pit with Noah’s dress. I never want to smell that old-church smell again. I want to shower and rid myself of the scent.
“Brazen?” Noah’s voice is soft and brittle.
“Yeah?” I’m still gulping in oxygen.
I don’t get a response from her. Instead, she takes shelter under my arm and clings to me. It seems Noah needs my touch after the heavy event, but I think I need the affection from her more. Nothing could make this day okay, but being with Noah does make it a little easier. I would never have survived this without her.
“Let’s get my mom and go home.” I guide her away.
My mom isn’t the person that I see though. It’s Dan, my old friend who was helping me out. His head is down as he rushes from the church, much like I did. He practically runs over us on his way out but looks up before we crash.
“Hey, Dan,” I greet him with a forced smile.
“Brazen, man, I’m so sorry about all of this. Everything is just a mess.” He throws his hands into the air.
I nod. That’s about the hundredth time I’ve heard a variation of that phrase. I’ve run out of responses. Or maybe I’ve run out of the will to care about politeness.
Never one to mince words, Dan gets right to it. “Listen, this isn’t the time or the place, but I’ve got something big.” His tightened fist pounds into his open palm. “Just know that, when it happens, I’m sorry it’s too little, too late. I just wish it’d happened sooner. Look, I have to go, but just … I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry, man.”
His hostile energy sets me on edge, but I’m too preoccupied with everything else to worry much about this interaction.
Dan is gone as quick as he came.
“What was that about?” Noah asks as we watch him get into his car.
“He was the guy digging into Matt for me.” That was a bit strange. “I guess he found something. Like he said, it’s a bit too late. I can’t even think about it today. Let’s go home.”
We came to say good-bye, but nothing feels final at the end of this funeral.
From what I’ve heard, Stephanie hasn’t been very cooperative with the investigation, and the cops still haven’t located Matt. That’s a huge piece of the puzzle that leaves everything unresolved. They haven’t even released Sunday’s official cause of death yet, so we don’t even know exactly how she died as we laid her memory to rest today.
Wherever he is and whatever he did to her haunts me. My bad dreams at night are vivid, and my nightmares are happening while I’m awake. I don’t think that will ever completely go away.
Matt took a life away and changed all of ours in the process. The sun will rise tomorrow morning and set tomorrow night. Every day that he gets away with what he did, I grow angrier, but for tonight, I’ll try to push that aside. I might not have wanted to be here at this funeral, but I do need to find my own way to say good-bye. Sunday deserves a proper farewell.
I just don’t know how I’ll be able to let her go.
Noah
The air has expectantly been harsh around here lately. It kills me that Brazen is in so much pain. I tear myself away from him each night to give him space. His comment about me hovering is stuck in the back of my mind. Since I’m already on top of him most of the day, I’m trying to give him room to breathe.
Sunday and Brazen’s business is suffering. There are deadlines and deliveries that have all fallen on my shoulders. I can stall what I need to and help to push certain permits through, but my knowledge of things outside of the paperwork is very little. All the extra responsibility has put my art classes at the center on hold for however long things stay like this. It’s a small sacrifice to make.
Beth has been staying at Brazen’s and doing what she can to help him. They spend a lot of quiet time together while I attempt to keep everything in order with the house and work. I’ve kept busy, and it gives me something to do to help Brazen. I don’t want him thinking about anything he doesn’t have to. When the evening comes though, I crawl into his bed and let him take from me. I give him my ears, my shoulder, and my heart.
Whatever he needs, it’s his. At least until he drives me home. Then, I lie in my bed, wishing I were still in his and wondering if he’s okay.
I’m in the kitchen, sweeping the floor, when I hear the doorbell ring. I lean the broom against the wall and go to see who is here. When I answer, I see the lead detective standing with a man who looks familiar, but I can’t remember the other guy’s name. There have been so many men in uniform in our lives lately.
“Morning, Ms. Mackenzie. Could we come in?” the detective asks.
“Of course.” I open the door wide for the two officers. “Can I get you something to drink or anything?” I’ve grown used to playing host in Brazen’s home.
“No, thank you. We just need to ask Mr. Hale a few questions. Is he here?” the same man who asked to come in says.
I direct them to the living room, and they take a seat.
“Yes, just let me go get him.”
I leave them and head to find Brazen in his room.
“Babe?” I direct my voice toward the ball under a mass of covers. “The detectives are here for you. They’re waiting in the living room.”
The blankets stir, and he rolls from the bed. His chest is bare, and his gym shorts hang low. He doesn’t bother to change or throw a shirt on as he walks toward me, plants a kiss to my forehead, and heads out to the main part of the house. I linger at the edge of the living room for a moment, wondering if I should make myself scarce or at least stay out of view. In the end, I hold my ground because I want to be close in case Brazen needs me. And let’s face it; I also want to be near enough to hear what’s going on. I sit next to him on the couch but give him some room to attend to business.
“Thanks for talking with us, Mr. Hale,” the detective says.
“Have you gotten any leads on Matt’s whereabouts yet?” Brazen gets right to the point.
“No, I’m sorry, not yet, but we’re working on it. We just have a few questions for you, and then we’ll let you get back to your day.” The second man scribbles words on a page as the detective speaks, and Brazen nods, giving the go-ahead for the detective’s questions.
“Were you and Sunday having any issues? Did you have a fight or anything like that?”
There is a delay in any sound after the detective speaks, and I hold my breath.
Why is he asking that?
“No, nothing like that.” Brazen’s voice is hard.
“A source told us about an altercation on your front lawn the week before Sunday went missing
between the two of you and another woman? Can you explain to us what happened there?” The officer’s voice is neutral, but his question is not.
“That other woman was Stephanie Clark, Matt’s girlfriend. It was between Stephanie and Sunday. I was trying to get Stephanie to leave. It was drama tied to Matt—the person you should be looking for—showing up on my doorstep.”
There is another long pause, and I can sense Brazen growing restless. These questions aren’t innocent.
“Can you give us a time line of your day for the twenty-four hours before Sunday went missing?” The officer prods further with his line of questions.
My jaw hangs slack over what I just heard. Why the hell do they want to know where he was? There’s really only one reason.
“You have got to be kidding me. I’m a suspect? Matt is out there somewhere, and you’re here, asking me for an alibi?”
Brazen stands and becomes increasingly agitated. Within seconds, I’m up on my feet, too. The other two men look calm and comfortable on the couch. Brazen looks at me with so much hurt in his eyes. I want to scream at the detective to take his lackey and get out, but that would just make things worse. I hate that he has to navigate through this after he’s lost so much. I take his hand in mine and feel that he’s shaking from his astonishment.
“I went to work. I had a conference call with a potential buyer about building codes. I was in the office with Sunday most of the day. That night, she went out with Noah, and I went to dinner with my mom. Then, I came home to wait for Sunday to come back. When she didn’t, I figured she was gone.”
Beth’s motherly presence fills the room. “These questions are over. If you want to ask my son anything else, you can wait until he has a lawyer. Good-bye, officers.” She shuts things down and swoops in to protect her child.
The detective stands and nods in our direction, saying, “We’ll be in touch,” before he and the officer file out of the room.
The men in charge of Sunday’s case see themselves out while we’re frozen in shock in their wake. The door shuts a little too loudly as they leave.
“I’m a person of interest. Matt is out there somewhere, and those people think I might have hurt Sunday. They are investigating me as if I’m a fucking suspect.” Beyond frustrated, Brazen tugs on the ends of his dirty-blond hair.
Positive thoughts.
Positive mind.
Positive attitude.
The police are just ruling out other people in Sunday’s life. There is no way they could believe Brazen is capable of murder.
Right?
Brazen
“The case will work itself out, my boy.” Mom sets soup down on the counter near my elbow.
The smell of the broth makes my stomach roll, and I push it away from me to escape the stench.
“You need to eat, Brazen.”
I don’t respond because I know she’ll push, and I can’t sit here and argue with her about it.
“We need to talk, baby, mom to son.” She pushes, even without me saying anything.
“I love you, Mom, but I can’t handle anything else right now. Whatever you have to say can wait.” I’m going back to bed where no one can talk to me or try to force-feed me.
“Brazen Hale, you’d better sit and listen to your mother. I know things are tough and that you’re going through a lot, but you will not speak to me in a manner of which I didn’t raise you to behave. Now, sit, eat, and listen to what I have to say.”
She’s giving me the total mom face right now, the one I’ve gotten my whole life when I misbehaved.
I sit, pull the bowl in front of me, and take a slurp from my spoon. The liquid lunch tastes like battery acid sliding down my throat, but I know when not to push the woman who raised me, and this is one of those times. Across from me, my mom leans over the counter, and her eyes soften as I struggle to get down the chicken noodle soup.
“My baby boy, I love you with every fiber of my being. You have more pressing down on your mind and heart than any person should, and I understand that, but we need to adjust our focus.”
“What do you mean?” I push the bits of chicken around with my spoon.
“Grieve, and feel every bit of agony that is hitting you. I’m not saying not to. Hopefully, that’ll get easier once the cops find Matt. What I’m saying is that you need to remember that girl who is napping in your bed, too.”
Noah fell asleep about an hour ago after she got back from doing whatever it was she’d been doing to keep my head afloat with work. I honestly don’t know what she’s been doing with my business because I haven’t asked.
“Noah’s been with me constantly. What are you talking about?” I wouldn’t have made it through the first hour after we found the blood if it weren’t for Noah’s support or her ability to predict all my needs.
“That girl is more than with you constantly. I’ve never seen anything like the way she looks at you and takes care of you. She has put all your needs ahead of hers. She’s burning the candle at both ends to make sure nothing reaches you that could cause you more pain or stress. I know you don’t think I know, but I’m aware of how much of a mess you were the first couple of days, and I’m more than certain you didn’t treat her like you normally would. I’m not stupid, Brazen. I know there was a whole lot of alcohol being consumed after you got the news. The way she’s still there for you after whatever happened in those first couple of days shows a lot. I’ve always let you make your own choices when it comes to the people in your life, and I’ve never spoken up about your love life much either. But this? This, I won’t stay silent about. I need to step in.”
Guilt hits me for that day Noah spent with me in the tub.
I don’t remember most of it, and I did apologize to her already, but was that enough? I was in rare form. How rare is anyone’s guess. I didn’t push for details.
“Am I screwing things up?” Quickly, a new kind of panic surfaces within me.
“No, from what I’ve seen, you could push that girl so much further before she breaks, but I just want you to be aware of your relationship with her. Be the man I taught you to be, and put your grief aside at least for a few minutes a day and check in with her. Show her your heart, and make sure she knows how much you appreciate her.”
“You don’t think she knows?” How could she not? She’s everything to me.
Because you tried to push her away like a drunken fool.
“It doesn’t matter if she knows. It’s your job to always, always—no matter what is going on—make sure you remember to show her. That’s the man I taught you to be, and you need to be that person, no matter what is going on in your life, especially with a girl like Noah.”
I think my mom just put me on blast.
“So, what should I do, Mom?”
The eye roll I receive tells me that was the wrong question to ask.
“Give her some attention, Brazen. Check in on how she’s doing. I’m not going to hold your hand. You know what to do. Grow a pair, baby boy.” She drops the knowledge, grunts, turns, and leaves the kitchen.
On top of the wisdom she just handed down, she also gives me another gift. I smile for the first time since Noah found the blood near the side of my house.
My mom is a fucking character.
No time like the present to listen to my mama, so I push the almost full bowl of soup away and head into my bedroom to see my girl. She’s curled up on my bed with the covers pulled up over her head. I move in slow, but the bed creaks as I lie down beside her, and she stirs. The covers fly off, and Noah practically jumps when she notices me.
“Are you okay? Do you need something?”
Okay, my mom really did me a favor. She couldn’t have been more right. Noah appears so frenzied and on edge that the trepidation in her voice is like a slap in the face. Noah is kind and will give and give and give regardless of her own needs and wants, and I’ve taken advantage of someone I love.
“Lie back down, baby. Everything is okay.” I try to fix t
he mess I’ve created.
“Brazen, are you okay?”
She touches her hand to my face, and I lean in to kiss her lips.
“Not really, but that’s to be expected, right? Neither of us is feeling great right now. My emotions don’t fall solely on your shoulders though. We should be a team, and I’ve been failing on my end. I love you, Noah, more than I thought I could ever care about someone. No matter what’s going on, that’s important to me, too.” And, apparently, I’ve lost sight of that while I’ve been grieving, which is ending now.
“You lost … Sunday was your best friend. Things are supposed to be tough. I know you love me, and I’m here for you because I love you back just as much.”
I pull the covers down, taking my time as I reveal more and more of Noah’s skin. Her T-shirt is bunched up around her torso, and her tiny lounge shorts reveal so much of her legs that it drives me crazy. She shivers as I expose her skin to the cool air.
“Brazen, you don’t have to do this.”
The protest rings in my head like an alarm.
“What do you mean?” With the sheet fully removed, I straddle her hips and look down at her while she bites her lip and rests her hands on my knees.
“I don’t need us to be intimate to know you love me. You don’t need to push yourself to show me you care. We have all the time in the world.”
That final blow hits me hard. How could Noah believe that being with her would ever come from forced effort on my part? I could be bleeding to death and still want to spend my final moments inside her. I guess I’ve been neglectful in more than one area lately.
“Baby, I wasn’t coming in here to give you a quickie. I wanted to check on you, give you a massage, help you relax, and just spend some time with you. Sure, maybe that would have led to sex, but not because I thought I could come in here and keep you placated with my dick. Is that really what you thought—that I was coming in here to keep you pacified?”
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