by Unknown
Or maybe with the loss we’d already had in our lives, he knew.
I followed him inside and watched as he took an empty seat next to Laura. I took the seat next to Cassie. The gold ornamentation lining Rawe’s casket was so shiny it made me squint.
She’s really dead.
She’d be alone and closed up in her casket for the rest of forever.
Cassie had said, Life’s a bitch and then you die. If you’re lucky. Considering the pain that loss left in its wake, I agreed.
She didn’t say anything as I settled into the seat. I could smell her, cigarette smoke and spicy hotel shampoo.
“This must be really hard for you,” she said, turning to look at me.
“I’m okay,” I replied, sitting up straighter to prove it. “This is their day to grieve, not mine.”
The truth was I grieved every day, just like Rawe’s family would now. I glanced over. They sat in a black mass, all in a line. “Have you talked to them yet?”
“I don’t really know what to say,” she said.
“Just say you’re sorry.”
“That’s not enough.” Her mouth was tight. “Even if it’s true, that’s not enough. It wasn’t when I said it to you this morning, either.”
I looked down. “No one knows what to say.”
“Maybe.” Her voice seemed far away. “But it seems like I have that problem a lot.”
The priest went up to the podium and started talking about Rawe. About how she would always be with us in spirit, and she was in a better place now. I wanted to believe it, just like I had when they said it about my father, but I knew it was just another thing people used to try to make sense of death.
Cassie was right. It wasn’t enough, just like sorry never would be.
Apologies didn’t mean shit if you didn’t act on them. If you let something as insignificant as the alarm on a cell phone get in the way.
I reached out for her hand, put mine around it. “Sometimes, you don’t have to say anything.” I didn’t know if she would pull away, tell me to fuck off, or elbow me in the balls, but I had to try.
Her hand was warm in mine, as familiar as putting on a favorite sweater after it’s been in your closet all summer.
I finally wanted to tell her I loved her. I missed her. That now, with her in my grasp again, I would never let her go, but I also had to know if she felt the same way, if she ever could again.
Because could was all I needed. I would turn could to would.
Cassie looked at me. Her shockingly blue eyes were wet. I didn’t know if she was crying for Rawe, or me, or us.
For who we were in California. For who we became after. For who we were now, and for who we could be.
She squeezed my hand, entwined her fingers with mine—a knot of forgiveness. She didn’t say anything after that.
She didn’t have to. Even if she didn’t know what to say, even if I didn’t, either, we were coming back to each other.
At Turning Pines, being with Cassie had always been baby steps. It began when she let me hold her hand. Maybe we could start that way again.
Chapter Seventeen
Cassie
When the service was over, our hands were still clasped tight—our warm skin and solid bones combined together to make something greater than they were alone.
I looked at them sitting on top of part of each of our legs, linking us. The color of our skin was reminiscent of the petals from the white roses adorning Rawe’s coffin, and like a rose, our fastened hands were fragile.
What they had the possibility to represent was even more delicate.
“Do you want me to let go now?” Ben asked, rubbing the inside of my palm with his thumb.
It was one of my favorite things he did. It was like he was reminding me he was there. I wondered what he saw when he looked at our hands. Something breakable like the petals I saw, or perhaps something stronger like a tree taking root.
“We can’t hold hands forever.” With those words, I couldn’t help but picture Rawe’s clasped hands crossed over her body in the coffin. She’d be holding hands with herself for eternity. It seemed exceptionally sad at a moment when I had someone like Ben to hold my hand, to hold all of me.
Rawe was alone in death. We all were. It made it seem so wrong to be alone in life.
I didn’t want to be alone anymore.
“That’s not an answer.” He smiled.
“Do you want me to let go?”
“I asked first,” he said.
“Stop stalling.”
He shook his head. “Even when we’re starting to get along, we have to fight about something,” he joked.
“Who said we were getting along?”
He lifted our clasped hands. “I guess it’s just our hands that’ve made up for the moment.”
“And…you’re still holding on,” I teased.
“So are you,” he lobbed back.
“What are you really asking me?” I let my eyes linger on his lips. The warmth filling my chest was a stark comparison to the cold wind blowing outside.
“I don’t know,” he whispered.
“Then I don’t know my answer.”
He laughed quietly. “You were never one to make things easy, Cassie.”
“You were never one to let me,” I retorted. “And…you’re still holding my hand.”
The room around us was alive with mourners. Laura and Drew were sitting next to us. The snow was falling, and his hand was in mine.
“I guess you’re going to have to let go first, then,” he said, squeezing tighter.
I heard the words he really meant: I am not going to let go first this time.
“How about we do it together?” I asked. We were flirting, playing that game people play where they don’t want to hang up the phone first. Different from chicken, because it wasn’t about proving how terrified you weren’t, it was about proving how committed you were.
He nodded as we both let go. There were a lot of things we still needed to talk about, but for now we were here for Rawe.
As if Ben could hear my thoughts, his eyes traveled across the room to Rawe’s family. “We should probably go pay our respects.”
“I know.” I exhaled. “But what the fuck do we say?”
“Having been through it, I can tell you the words don’t really matter,” he said, straightening his tie. “It’s enough that we’re here.”
“Yeah, we’re here,” I mumbled, “but fucking Rawe’s not. I think they’d rather have her.”
I just couldn’t believe Rawe was gone. Her existence was over that simply, but I also knew how flimsy life really was.
I knew how easily damaged each piece could be. It could all shatter like glass. The hands Ben and I had held—our knotted fingers—could be obliterated simply because we both weren’t ready to hold on when it really counted.
When tomorrow finally came.
“You want me to come with you to talk to them?” Ben asked, sitting up straighter in his chair.
If it were anyone else, I would have told him I could go fucking talk to Rawe’s family just fine by myself. But I did want Ben to come with me.
I wanted him with me, for as long as time would allow. I hoped it wasn’t for only one more day, but I knew if Rawe had been given even just that extra amount of time, she would have done all she could with it.
She wouldn’t have wasted it being worried about what would happen the day after that. The day after tomorrow came.
She would have told me to stop letting my past dictate my future, not let my fear of loss destroy my chance at finally gaining. And even though I would have ignored her and rolled my eyes when she said it, she would have been right as usual.
Too bad it took her death for me to finally listen.
“Yeah,” I said, putting my hand on his knee, “I want you to come with me.”
Ben and I hadn’t said good-bye in California, but maybe we never had to. Maybe our end wasn’t good-bye. Maybe our end never had to
come.
I looked over at Laura. She and Drew were talking, but her eyes met mine—her eyes that could speak more than words; they acknowledged me. She had chosen to be with Drew, but her actions had also forced me to make my own choice. Her big blue eyes that talked when she had been unable to were speaking now, and in that moment they said, You’re welcome.
Chapter Eighteen
Ben
I took Cassie’s hand again as we stood in line to give our condolences. She nuzzled in and pulled me closer, the gray wool sweater she was wearing tickling the skin on my wrist. Now with holding hands fair game again, I craved her grip like it was a phantom limb. She was letting me touch her, letting me feel her, letting me support her.
And I was doing my best.
I had no idea what I was going to say to Rawe’s family, what would be enough, but in this situation, I had to be the strong one. I had to show Cassie I could look out for her no matter what. Regardless of how hard things got.
Cassie turned to me, her blue eyes considering me in a way they hadn’t since California. They were open and almost damp. Her vulnerability was back; her need for me and her gratitude that I was here flickered out from her irises in ripples.
She wasn’t trying to hide it anymore.
I could touch her, hold her, kiss her again if she’d let me, and my mind honestly couldn’t think about anything else. I shook my head. There would be time for that later. Rawe needed to be our focus now.
“I’ll talk first if you want,” I said, clearing my throat.
“Okay,” she replied softly.
Cassie usually didn’t do softly, and she certainly wasn’t afraid to say what she thought to anyone, ever. Her deferring to me meant she was petrified. I understood when she was faced with something this heavy, this real, it paralyzed her.
She started to shake.
“It will be over soon,” I said, gliding my other hand over the top of our clasped ones. Sure, I was terrified, too. I mean, what the hell do you say to parents who have just lost their child? What the hell had anyone said to me, or Drew, or my mom? I couldn’t even remember. But I knew I needed to do this for Cassie.
“What I’m feeling about having to talk to them is nothing compared to what they are going through,” she said, looking down. “I just don’t want to make them feel worse.”
“You’re here, you made an effort. It’s all that matters.” As I said those words, I couldn’t help but think about us. We were here, making an effort, finally trying, too.
“You’re right,” she said, steadying herself.
I moved close to her ear, her hoop earring hot metal against my lip. “Just don’t swear, don’t say anything that will offend them, and tell them how much you loved Rawe.”
“I can do that,” Cassie said. “Well, except maybe the fucking swearing part.” I could hear her smile, even though she was trying to keep her face free of emotion.
“Swear now,” I said, shaking the hand I was holding for emphasis. “Get it all out.”
Her eyebrow cocked up. “Seriously?”
“It’s not like you have Tourette’s or something,” I started, “but I know when you get upset, you can’t help yourself, so…” I finished presenting a fake stage for her with my other hand.
“Okay.” She nodded. “Okay,” she repeated, her words picking up steam. “I think it’s fucking bullshit Rawe is dead. I think it’s fucking crap she tried to make other people’s crappy fucking lives better and her fucking life is over. I fucking hate I’m not going to see her sappy-ass posts about God on Facebook anymore, that I won’t wonder if she’s fucking praying for me or telling some other girl like me all the bullshit I had to hear. I think the world is a piece of shit for taking her away from her family.” She stopped and formed a small O with her mouth, breathing out in a silent whistle before adding, “But mostly, I can’t fucking believe I never got to thank her…” Her cheeks were pink, her pupils pinpricks.
“You can thank her parents,” I said.
“It’s not the same,” she said, her eyes on the casket.
I understood. What if Cassie had died? Would it be enough for me to tell her parents I’d loved her? It might make them feel better, but it wouldn’t do shit for her, or me.
“Just leave out the fucks, the God stuff, the crap and shit, and I think you’ll be fine,” I said, bringing myself back to thinking about Rawe.
“If you hear me swear, just hit me,” she said, watching me out of the corner of her eye.
“There is no way in hell I’m hitting you.”
“Ben,” she said, squeezing my hand, “this is the one time in your life I am giving you permission to hit me without fear of an injured ball. I would take it.”
I turned to her and smirked. “As long as injured balls are off the table.”
She smiled, one of those smiles that made her look like she was trying to hold a butterfly in her mouth, the kind where she couldn’t help herself. “Thank you,” she said.
“For what, agreeing to hit you?”
She shrugged. “I just don’t want to regret not saying it to you.”
It might not be everything we needed to say to each other, but it was a definite start.
We took our turn. Rawe’s parents and sister sat in their seats in a line at the front of the room, their eyes red and vacant, their skin greenish pale. Lots of other people had already talked to them, and lots of people were waiting to, but right now was our time. My heart thumped under my ribcage, my palm sweating in Cassie’s.
“I’m Ben Claire, and this is Cassie Wick,” I said, willing the words to come, like I was a magician pulling out one of those long handkerchief chains. “We’re so sorry for your loss. Ms. Rawe was one of the counselors at Turning Pines—”
“My counselor,” Cassie said, standing up straighter. I liked how my words gave her the courage to speak, that my presence kept her from running away, made her stronger.
“She loved you kids,” Rawe’s father said, his voice breaking.
“We loved her, too,” Cassie said.
I squeezed her fingers tight. I knew her words were true, and I also knew it was the kind of thing you sometimes didn’t realize until someone was gone.
That you sometimes couldn’t say until someone was gone.
Maybe it had taken Cassie and I being gone from each other to be at a place where we could finally admit those words to each other.
“She was a great lady,” I said, because it was true, too.
Rawe’s sister stood up and hugged us both. “It would have meant a lot to her that you came,” she said, her eyes so red they looked chapped. “Thank you for being here.”
Rawe’s mother just kept crying. Her husband sat next to her and held her around the waist like she was just skin, like her bones were tears. She couldn’t even stop to look at us.
We took that as our cue to move on.
This weekend was a heart-aimed arrow of truth. I knew what I had to do about Cassie. What she had to do about me.
It was time to do it.
Chapter Nineteen
Cassie
After the ceremony, while everyone was eating the catered lunch, I went outside into the snow to have a cigarette without Ben. I needed to be alone for a minute, to think. To not think.
My need for solitude became even more obvious when Drew walked out and lit up his own cigarette.
“Aw, fuck,” I said, loud enough so he could hear. Forget about keeping my swearing in now—with him here, there would be a torrent.
“Back at ya,” he said, huddling next to me under the awning of the funeral home.
The snow was still falling, but instead of icy tears it seemed more like small floating ghosts, buzzing and flying, trying to haunt each other. I could have just gone back inside to find Laura or Ben, but I was out here first, dammit.
“Fuck off, Drew,” I huffed. “Get the hell out of here.”
“It’s a free country last time I checked, even with you in it,” he said, ta
king a long drag and blowing the smoke in my direction.
“You are seriously such a fucking dick,” I said, my fingers tight on my cigarette.
“Depends who you ask.” He shrugged casually. “I mean, I drove to an out-of-town funeral with my brother during a blizzard. I didn’t even know the woman. I’d say that makes me a saint.”
“Compared to who?” I asked, punctuated by an angry laugh.
He replied with a look I knew meant compared to you .
Maybe I should have said something about his father—how I knew now. That I understood at least partly why Ben had done what he’d done for him. But I still didn’t think Drew’s sacrifices matched up.
I still wanted to be angry at someone for some of the pain Ben had been through.
I exhaled loudly. “You did a lot of other shit to him that doesn’t fucking balance that out though, Saint Drew.” I sucked on my cigarette, picturing the smoke filling my lungs like gray leaves growing on a tree.
“So did you, Cassie,” he said through thin lips. “Don’t act like you’re innocent, because you’re not.”
I guess he wanted to be angry at someone for some of the pain Ben had been through, too. I took another long drag of my cigarette. He was right, of course, but he also had no right to be the one to tell me. “Fuck you,” I said. “Seriously, now and forever, fuck you.”
“Fuck you back,” he replied indignantly. “To infinity,” he added, smiling his I’m a total asshole and I know it smile.
“I really don’t fucking like you,” I said, staring right into his eyes. Brown eyes so much like Ben’s I had to look away.
“The feeling is mutual,” he said, snow landing in small shiny pieces in his hair. “Believe me, you’re the biggest bitch I’ve ever met, but for some crazy reason, my brother does like you. He fucking likes you a lot.”
I aimed the ash of my cigarette in his direction. “You don’t know anything about it,” I said, focusing my eyes on the snowbanks behind him. I pictured one of them coming to life like a giant white mouth and swallowing him whole.
“Oh, I think I do,” he said, pointing at himself with his cigarette. “I’m the one who’s been with him the past three months while he’s been drinking himself into a stupor over you. I’m the one who has to watch him stare down at his drums at every wedding we play, so he doesn’t have to see the bride and groom. I’m the one who’s tried to help him forget you, and now you’re here fucking all that up again.”