“I’ll talk to Shelly myself,” I assure her. “I’ll make sure it’s perfect.”
Before Ari has the chance to argue, I wake Shelly up and get her ass in gear.
Around eight, Miles, the Aldrich family attorney, arrives with Mom and Pop. Miles relays Aiden’s wishes for his funeral and memorial. At least Ari won’t be responsible for making those decisions. Aiden is to be buried next to Savannah in a family plot in our parents’ hometown of Dillon, Texas. Funeral services will be held at the church they were married in.
Ari stares blankly out the window as Miles speaks. I wish she didn’t have to deal with all of this today, but with the type of memorial Aiden had planned, someone has to get to work. Mom offers to take the lead coordinating many of the details, and seeing as Dillon is a one-stoplight town in middle of nowhere, there won’t be too many options. Fewer options to choose from is exactly what Ari needs. None of us have been back to Dillon since my grandparents died ten years ago.
The benefit of holding the services in Dillon is that there won’t be enough hotel rooms to support guests and press. Sure, some paparazzi will sleep in their cars, but for the most part, Ari will be afforded some privacy. I imagine that was part of Aiden’s reasoning for choosing to bury Savannah there.
After Miles leaves, Mom convinces Ari that she needs to take some time before diving into the plans. Mom’s going to spend the day collecting information, and tomorrow we’ll all sit down and try to organize a plan for the services. In the meantime, I take Ari back to bed. I’d hoped she would get some much needed sleep, but she just lies there, clinging to me, for hours.
Around one in the afternoon, she stands and walks to her closet. “I have to get up. There must be a million things I need to do.” She comes out of the closet with mismatched clothes, her hands trembling. “I’m not sure what they are, but the list must be a mile long.”
I take the sequined skirt and ten-year-old beat-up Wimbledon sweatshirt out of her hands, toss them back into her closet, and guide her back to the bed. “All of it can wait. Mom’s already on top of it. Today, you need to take a breath.”
“I can’t be still any longer,” she says, her voice shaking. “When I’m still, all I can do is think about how he’s gone. When I’m busy, I can forget. I need to stay busy.”
“Okay, let’s go for a run.” She starts to protest, but I cut her off. “You need to take a breath. I understand you want to stay busy, but let’s get some fresh air first.”
Ari nods and picks up the Wimbledon sweatshirt. She throws it on over the clothes she left my house in yesterday. As much as I know she’d feel better in clean clothes, I’m not going to push my luck.
She pulls a pair of running shoes from the closet and puts them on without socks, which is highly unlike her. “I’m ready.”
“This isn’t really my area, so I could be wrong, but aren’t bras really helpful when running?”
She pats her chest, I suppose to figure out if she’s wearing one or not, then replies, “Oh. Yeah.” She returns to her closet with a vacant expression.
I can feel her imploding into a pile of emotional rubble. I’m not really sure how to field this situation, but I know Ari, and I know she always feels better after a run. I hope I’m not making a mistake.
After encouraging her to at least brush her teeth, I run downstairs to get the bag of clothes Charlie brought over for me when she dropped off my truck sometime this morning. I quickly wash up and change. I find Ari in the backyard by the running path.
“I was thinking we could mix it up today,” I say as I grab a few waters out of the fridge. “What do you think about going to Half Moon Bay and running on the beach? I know it’s January, but I know how much you love the ocean.”
She doesn’t respond but walks toward the driveway, so I guess she’s okay with it. It’s a silent thirty-minute drive to Half Moon Bay, and I’m kicking myself for suggesting it. She should be at home, not traipsing all over the beach. I’m an idiot!
When we get there, she bolts out of the car before I take the keys from the ignition. I have to sprint, but I eventually catch up to her. She looks over her shoulder at me but shows no sign of slowing down. She runs balls to the wall for miles and only stops when the beach runs into a rocky cliff. Crimson and panting, she pushes against the rock wall as if she could move it out of her way to continue her grueling trek.
A monstrous roar escapes her mouth as she shoves the cliff in vain. “Must keep running. Why is this motherfucking rock in my way?”
She screams and kicks until I pull her away and hold her until her screams morph into sobs. I wish I had words to say to soothe her, but I know they don’t exist. Nothing except time will ease this loss, and I won’t patronize her with false promises that it will all be okay. We’ll get through this, but things will never be the same again. She just needs to let this out, so I hold her, tell her how much I love her, and promise that I’ll always be by her side.
When she runs out of tears and her breathing calms, she brushes the hair from her face. Her face is puffy and an unhealthy shade of red. “I’m sorry.”
I gently hold her swollen cheeks and pull her toward me for a kiss. “You never have to apologize for how you feel.” The sun is swallowed by a barricade of clouds, and the wind picks up, making the temperature drop at least ten degrees.
“I’m an orphan now. It’s just me, completely alone in the world. I don’t have an ‘in case of emergency’ person.”
I pull her close. “You’ll never be alone. I’m never leaving your side again. I will be there for every emergency, every time you need a shoulder to cry on. Every time you need someone to vent to, I will be there. It’s you and me, forever. I know you feel lost, but I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” She doesn’t respond, but the way she leans into me tells me she heard me. A chill shakes her, and I ask, “Are you ready to go home?”
Staggering a bit, she stands and brushes the sand off her sweats. “No, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to go back there. It’s time though, like it or not.”
Between her virtually catatonic and hyperfocused planning-obsessed mood shifts over the next few days, we get the funeral planned for Saturday. Mom and Pop are flying down early to open up Aiden’s ranch house and finalize details. The rest of us will follow on Friday.
I spend as much time as I can with Ari, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. She won’t eat, barely sleeps, and it takes Charlie and me three days to convince her to take a bath and change her clothes. Each morning, I look at her, hoping to see some sign that she’ll pull out of this, but I haven’t seen one yet. The team is being flexible with me in regards to practice time, but then again, I didn’t give them much of a choice. I won’t have as much lenience during Super Bowl week, but at least I can get Ari through the funeral.
Before Mom and Pop leave, Mom stops by to pick up a suit for Aiden. Ari insists on picking it out. After eight hours in his closet and two Xanax, Charlie and I get her to settle on one and go to bed. Once she’s tucked in, I meet Charlie in Aiden’s room to clean up.
Charlie’s picking up ties that Ari scattered across the room when she was looking for a specific tie he wore when she was a little girl. “Should we be putting this stuff away, or do you think we should box it up?”
“We need to put it back. She’s not ready for anything to be packed away yet. Hell, neither am I. It doesn’t feel real yet. I keep expecting him to walk through the door.”
“Me too.” She picks up one of the many shirts Ari held for hours and puts it on a hanger. “I never thought anything could break her.”
I hang up a pair of suit pants. “She’ll get through it. We just need to be there for her.”
“I’m really worried about next week. I think we need to force her to go to the Super Bowl. If she stays holed up any longer, she’s going to go crazy.”
I shake my head. “No. She hasn’t been to a Super Bowl since Savannah died, and this isn’t the one to start. She’s already dro
wning in grief, and to make her relive her mother dying too… that could end her. Plus, if she were to go, the leeches would be all over her. I’ll be too busy to protect her. You, Mom, and Pop need to stay with her. Maybe stay in Texas for a little while.” I take the shirts she’s hung up and carry them back to the closet.
“But who’ll be there for you?” she asks. “It’s your first Super Bowl.”
I love my sister for caring, but my family has to put things in perspective. It’s just a fucking game. “It’s not about me right now.”
“I honestly don’t know if she’ll get through the week without you. I can barely get through to her,” Charlie says solemnly.
I look around to make sure that we’ve gotten everything picked up. “I have a few ideas. I’ll keep you posted.” I give her a hug. “We’ll all get through this. I’m going to go check on her.”
She grabs my arm before I step away. “Wait. Has anyone talked to you about the official Brennan statement?”
“No, what are you talking about?”
“Jenna went on the news today and released a statement on behalf of the Brennan family in response to Aiden’s death. It was pretty awful. She made it sound like he was just our next-door neighbor who kept to himself and never let his trees grow into our yard.”
I release her and pace. “You’ve got to be kidding me! What would possess her?”
“Have you checked in with her or Donald? Or your accountant for that matter? How did turning off the financial well go?”
I shrug. “I’ve been focusing on football and Ari. I haven’t given her a second thought.”
She pats my back with one hand and takes my phone out of my back pocket with the other. “I think you better call and straighten her out. I’ll go check on Ari.”
Unable to stay in Aiden’s room any longer without suffocating, I close the door behind us and go downstairs. Donald answers on the first ring.
“I know what you’re going to say,” he says. “I’m taking care of it.”
“She released an official statement, Donald. Is she still having difficulty understanding our relationship is over?” I demand.
“I have her in therapy, and the doctor’s working with her. She understands that you aren’t currently together, but she’s having trouble accepting that there isn’t still a future,” he replies.
This cannot be happening. I need all of my resources to focus on Ari and the fucking Super Bowl and try to squeeze in some room so I can grieve too. I don’t have time or energy for this bullshit. “Donald, either you get her on a short leash, or I will take action and it will be public. I’ve given you a month to get her shit together, and that clock is ticking down.”
He promises he will get Jenna under control, but after hanging up with him, I call Shelly. While Jenna’s statement was disrespectful to the role Aiden played in our lives, it was probably forgotten before she was finished speaking. Shelly does recommend releasing a statement that Jenna and I have parted ways though so that this doesn’t happen in the future. With the funeral and Super Bowl coming up, there will be plenty of times for Jenna to try to steal another fifteen minutes of fame.
When we land in Texas, Ari puts on a brave show. She appears together and organized, her attention focused on attending to the particulars of the funeral. Typically I hate the bullshit acts she puts on for everyone else’s benefit, but today, I’m thankful for anything that motivates her to get up in the morning. Sometimes you have to fake it till you make it.
Being at the ranch house seems to be good for her. Aiden bought it for his parents after he signed his first contract, but he never actually lived in this house. I think being somewhere that isn’t saturated with memories of him will be beneficial for her. Coming here takes her out of the sea of grief she’s been drowning in and puts her in the shallow end. Maybe she’ll be able to keep her head above water here.
The morning of the funeral, security alerts me that there’s a guest at the door. We had to hire an extensive security team to keep the press at bay. Last night, a reporter sneaked up the drive and tried to capture pictures of Ari. I found her later that night on the porch with a shotgun. For everyone’s safety, we thought a security detail would be wise.
I leave Ari in the bedroom and answer the door. “Henrik, how was your flight?”
He shakes my hand. “Long. It’s not easy to get to this dust bowl.”
I move aside and motion for him to enter. “Come on in. We have a few hours before the funeral. Thank you for coming. Can I get you a drink? Something to eat?”
He shakes his head and pats his stomach. “We just stopped at Freebirds on the way here. We need one of those in Munich.” He walks through the foyer and casually takes in the house. “How is she doing? I’ve been trying to call her since I heard the news, but her phone’s been off.”
“The damn thing wouldn’t stop ringing, so we just shut it off. I’ll be honest with you, she’s taking it really hard. That’s why I called you. I have to go to Miami on Sunday. I know you were able to help bring her out of a dark place before, and I was hoping maybe you could help get her up and moving while I’m gone. Charlie will be here, but Charlie won’t push her. I worry if no one’s here to help her stand on her feet, she’ll keep sinking.”
He picks up a picture of the Brennan/Aldrich clan. “Pretty bold asking the ex-boyfriend to step in during your absence.”
This guy’s got balls. I know calling him was an unorthodox move, but all I care about is her. I was hoping he might take her away for the week, but seeing that glint in his eye, I’m seriously regretting the fact that I picked up the damn phone.
I square my shoulders and set my jaw. “It wasn’t that bold. There’s no competition here. I’m sure you wouldn’t try to capitalize on her grief to get back in her pants. And let me make this perfectly clear—you’re not stepping in for me. You’re just being given the opportunity to be the very dear friend you claim to be.”
He chuckles and pats my back. “Not to worry, my man. I’ve already been on that merry-go-round and got my ass kicked when I was pushed off. I’m smart enough to know not to go back for seconds. I love that girl, and if she’s hurting, I want to help. No ulterior motive. I will deliver her back to you safe and sound and, if history is any indication, more in love with you than she was when I got her.”
I glare at him, searching for any signs that I can’t trust him, but I don’t find anything. He seems genuine and trustworthy. “Don’t make me regret this.”
Seconds later, Ari and Charlie come down.
“Henrik?” Ari says, visibly shocked.
He rushes to her. “Lamm, I’m so sorry.”
Watching them embrace is difficult. The sight of another man’s arms around Ari makes me feel as though acid is flowing through my veins. But it also affirms that I made a sound decision. As much as it pains me to admit it, they share something, and right now she needs all the people who care about her.
Charlie comes to my side. “Did he just show up?”
I shake my head. “I invited him. Reinforcements for next week. I’m hoping he’ll take her somewhere warm and away from the press.”
She feels my head with the back of her hand. “Are you sick, or have you completely lost your mind? You’re sending your emotionally crippled and highly vulnerable girlfriend off with the ex-fiancé?”
I brush her hand away. “She needs it, and I can’t give it to her. So I called someone who could. She needs to know that she’s not alone.”
We watch Henrik hug Ari as he whispers what I imagine are words of condolence.
Charlie pats my back. “I sure hope this doesn’t backfire.”
Chapter Nine
Arianna
I only remember bits and pieces of the funeral. One day, I may look back on that with regret, but for now, I think it’s for the best. I remember getting up and spending the morning sitting on the balcony with Chase. The cocoon of his arms is the only place where I feel remotely normal. Eventually he and Charlie
forced me to get dressed, and sweats weren’t an option. Charlie was upset about my suit. Apparently I’ve lost weight, and the Chanel number she packed makes me look frail now. As if I give a shit.
For the rest of the day, I played the appropriate part. I shook hands and received hugs, but I couldn’t begin to say who was there. I was busy running a loop of all of my memories of Daddy, desperately trying to imprint them into my mind before they disappear. Every day he’s gone, I feel him slipping further and further away, just like my mother. Pat gave the most touching eulogy that I only made it through because Chase was holding me together. Chase was supposed to speak next, but I think he sensed how much I was relying on his strength to remain composed because he motioned for the pastor to move on to the next speaker.
The reception came and went in a blink of the eye. Henrik (who I don’t recall showing up despite the fact he says we spoke this morning) and Chase kept trying to get me to leave the reception early. They said I was under no obligation to stay, but when the reception ended, it concluded the last chapter of my father’s life. When the last guest left and people started cleaning up, that was it. His life was really over. We’ll pack away his memory and put it on a shelf, and I’m not ready to do that. But eventually the last guest leaves and the staff needs to clean up, so I have no choice but to go back to the house.
Chase has to leave tomorrow morning, and I’m petrified of it. I’ve never needed anyone, something I’ve always been proud of. I’m a strong, independent woman who’s capable of handling anything life throws at me. What death throws at me, however, is a different story entirely. It seems I can’t seem handle that for shit. I need him, and shockingly, I don’t feel shame for that. It doesn’t make me feel weak or pathetic as I would have expected. I feel connected to him, and I trust him completely. Perhaps for the first time.
Love To Hate You Page 8