by Amo Jones
“Tillie?” Elena says, coming to sit beside me. She rubs my arm in an attempt to soothe the pain, and the very hurt side of me, which is every side, wants to laugh in her face and swear at her. But I don’t. I take another long pull of the whiskey instead. “She will be here soon. Would you like to come and wait at the entrance for her with us?”
I swallow the burning amber liquid that ignites my internal organs. If I swallowed a lit match, would I burst into flames?
I don’t answer. I stand. Because of course I will. I will do anything and everything I can until she is—I take another drink, brushing past Elena and heading for the front door. Their house resembles The White House, a modern-day plantation style home. There are around six large pillars that line the front of the wrap-around porch. It’s large enough to fit a small army.
When I step outside, I see Madison sitting on a swing seat, her legs pressed to her chest and her forehead resting on her knees, her shoulders shaking. My eyes flick up to Tate who is on the other side of the porch, her arms crossed around her stomach. Joseph takes Elena’s hand and tugs her under his arm where she loses herself and cries uncontrollably. A white Cadillac pulls up with a funeral home sticker on the side. It’s now that I realize Joseph had probably already organized everything for me. I take note to thank him later when I don’t feel like any sudden movement is going to rip the flesh off my bones. My eyes flick over the funeral car when I see Nate’s Audi R8 roll up behind, and then Brantley’s V8 behind that, and Bishop’s Maserati behind Brantley. There are also two black Range Rovers behind Bishop. It’s hard for me to be happy to see Nate, because I don’t feel happy. I don’t feel anything but pain, but I know I’m grateful that he’s here. Me second guessing him on it was unreasonable of me. They all climb out of their cars, but my eyes can’t move from Nate.
I can only make out the sharp edges of his sharp jaw because he’s wearing a black Nike hoodie and cap on his head, covering his face. He’s wearing dark ripped jeans and combat boots. His jaw is set in stone, and even though I can’t see his eyes, I know that I don’t want to. I don’t want to because the one thing, person, that Nate cherished and loved more than anyone in this world is now gone. I fear for what is going to be left of him now.
The boys go to the back of the hearse and the director steps away, sensing the sudden hostility. I step backward, my back crashing against the house. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. I watch as the boys surround the back of the car like a pack of loyal wolves, and then Nate pulls at something softly, and the small pink casket comes slightly into view. I burst into tears, my hand coming to my chest to rip my heart out so it can stop hurting. I can’t do this. I can’t survive this. I squeeze my eyes shut, and practice my breathing again, only when I open them, my eyes come straight to the sight in front of me. Nate at the front of the coffin, holding the top right, Bishop behind him holding the bottom right, Brantley at the top left, and then Cash behind him, holding the back. I’m too busy zoned in on the coffin, that when I look up to Nate, I freeze. He’s already glaring at me, the rim of his hoodie draped over the better part of his eyes.
His lip curls.
There’s my answer.
I shiver, straighten my shoulders and wait for them as they pass me and head into the house. I follow behind them until I reach the kitchen. I know that Elena said that they’ll keep her casket closed, because I pushed it. I don’t want everyone to have the last memory of her being what she is now. I want them to remember her bright smiles.
Heading straight for the sitting room, the boys have already placed her small casket onto the stand, for a moment, I test my control, my eyelashes fluttering closed. I can’t contain the pain anymore. I can’t do anything. I know that this is a time to be strong, but I feel like I’m walking around soulless. A mask of absolute tragedy. Everyone is watching me, waiting for my reaction. I hate it. Despise it. She was the one person I had in my life who was a constant. She was my forever. I step backward, shaking my head as my heart seizes in my chest. I back into something hard and arms come around my stomach.
“Come sit down.” Brantley’s voice utters into my ear. He takes my hand with his and drags me toward the over-sized U-shaped lounge that has been moved to face the casket. Brantley takes a seat and then yanks me down beside him. My eyes go to Nate, who is sitting beside the coffin, his elbows resting on it and his hands buried over his face. He doesn’t move. He stays in that position. Stationary.
“I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”
When Brantley doesn’t answer, I look directly at him. His face is an inch away from mine, his warm breath cascading over my swollen lips.
He licks his and then bites down. “You won’t. It will always be there, but it won’t always hurt this bad.”
“Bullshit, Brantley.” I take my eyes away from his, back to Nate. He’s laying his head on the casket now, his head facing the opposite way to us. “I’m scared for him.”
Brantley leans back on the sofa, his arm coming behind me. “You should be.”
Madison and Bishop walk in and come sit beside me. Madison’s hand rests on my knee. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Nothing will be nice,” I answer, sick of talking and answering questions.
“Okay,” she whispers, leaning her head on my shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do the burial tomorrow?”
I nod, my face blank. “Yes.”
I shoot up from the couch and make my way into the kitchen. I start rustling through the cupboards in search of an old friend.
“Jack. Hello.” I twist and flip the cap off, taking down a tumbler glass and pouring to the rim. Leaving the bottle there, I head back into the sitting room and flop down beside Brantley again, who is eyeing the glass skeptically.
“Now is not the time to be looking like that,” I snap without looking at him. “You know better.”
He snorts. “I’m not judging. Hell no.”
I lick the hot liquid off my lips and look at him. I mean, really look at him. His brazen prominent jaw and swollen lips. His ink dark eyelashes and eyebrows, and the way his skin looks as though he’s been baking in the sun for a couple of days. That’s just Brantley though. Then his eyes come directly to mine.
“I thought that we already had this discussion about you looking at me like that, Tillie. Trust me, I’m sorry for your loss, but don’t test my restraint, because I have none.”
The rest of the night goes slow. Painfully slow. Everyone moves around me while I stay still, in my very own haunted tranquility. Drinking. When midnight hits, and everyone is either asleep in the sitting room or have left, I let out a soft cry. My glass slips from my fingertips, dropping to the ground. Madison and Bishop are asleep on the sofa and Brantley is right beside me, one arm over his eyes as he sleeps. Eli and Hunter are sprawled out on the floor and Tate is curled in Jase’s arms beside them.
Nate hasn’t moved. He’s still beside her coffin, his head turned the other way. Guarding her like a prowling lion. Now that it’s quiet, and the room isn’t busy, I let the tears run down my face uncontrollably. My shoulders shake, my stomach twists and pulls my organs in the palm of grief’s hands. My chest is numb. Either from the alcohol or from my pain threshold being completely razed. Everything is anesthetized by my anguish. My eyes sting from being so swollen and my cheeks burn like sandpaper has been scrubbed over them harshly all day. Brantley’s leg is pressed against mine, setting off warm ripples shooting through my leg. The only sensation I can feel right now. A lifeline, maybe. I’m not sure.
Nate’s movement catches my eyes. The only light coming from the outdoor pool lights breezing in through the high floor to ceiling glass windows and door. He turns his head to face me, his eyes connecting directly with mine.
Fear slams into me at one-hundred miles an hour. My mouth opens and then closes. Fuck it. I already know that he absolutely despises me, so I may as well ask him right now, while it’s just us two.
“Do you blame me?”
He doesn
’t answer, but his eyes don’t move off me either.
“It’s not about you, Tillie.” The venom that drips off every syllable is evident. I don’t need him to say anything else to know that he does. “But you have until the day after tomorrow to move the fuck out of my house and out of my life.”
I wince, even though part of me knew that was coming. “I will.” He’s hurting too, Tillie. He’s hurting too.
Then he sits up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “You are the worst thing that ever happened to me.” I don’t answer, because I know he’s not done. “You gave me life.” He looks at the coffin and then comes back to me. “And then ripped it away from me like you’re the goddamn Grim Reaper.”
“Nate…”
“Save it,” he exhales calmly, his head tilting back to rest on the chair. “I don’t want to hear shit.”
“I lost her too,” I whisper, the first time I’ve ever said it out loud. I choke on my next words. “I didn’t even get to finish The Wizard of Oz. We started it the night before, and—” My words are mumbled, unable to speak.
Nate stands, and storms out of the room. I’ve pissed him off. I spoke when I shouldn’t have. I squeeze my eyes closed and stand, making my way to his now vacant chair. My hands tremble as I reach out to touch the smooth glossy casket.
I clench my fist when I realize I can’t touch it. Fear rips through me. How do you survive a war that has one enemy—you.
I jump when I see the edge of the book I was reading her last night come into view. I see Nate’s tattooed hand, the words E L I T E stamped into each finger sprawled out over the cover. I lick my lips, swiping away the tears.
“Finish it.”
When I reach for the book, he takes a seat on the chair and yanks me down onto his lap. His arms feel like home, but the feeling that’s crashing into me is something more distant. Like this is the beginning of the end between him and I. For good.
I stare at the book for—I don’t know how long. The last time I held this, we were sitting together on my bed. I zone in on a small speckle of scratch near the Lion’s orange mane. That imperfection was there last night. Before all of this happened. It sounds silly, but it’s as though everything is rolling into me in brutal waves and I’m for sure about to drown.
“Finish it, Tillie,” Nate says, snatching the bottle of Jack that was on the small table beside his chair.
I clear my throat, only for it to swell again and tears to pour down my eyes. I flip to the page I was up to and begin reading. We read Micaela her final story, even though hers ended far too early. Like an unfinished project.
“Then that accounts for it. In the civilized countries, I believe there are no witches left; nor wizards, nor sorceresses, nor magicians. But, you see, The Land of Oz has never been civilized, for we are cut off from all the rest of the world…”
I think to myself about the irony of that line. For I too, know of a place similar to Oz…
Tillie
I wake the next morning to the scent of cedar, leather, and soap surrounding me, with familiar tattooed arms and a hand possessively wrapped around my upper thigh. Nate has me curled into his chest like a baby. I slowly inch up until I see his face tilted back, asleep with his hoodie completely covering his eyes and nose. I slowly wrench myself out of his grip, before my eyes come to everyone who was asleep in here last night awake and watching us.
I divert my gaze and slip off his lap quickly, no longer scared to wake him.
Madison is crying again.
I rake my fingers through my hair and grab the almost empty bottle of Jack that’s on the floor, taking a sip.
“Leave it alone.”
They all stay silent. I slowly stumble my way into the kitchen. I know that I should tidy myself up, but why. What’s the point of putting makeup on if my grief is just going to wash it off. There is one thing I want to tackle before the burial. I need to box up her belongings and I’d rather do it sooner than later. Like ripping off a band-aid, only so I can spill my blood all over the floor for everyone else to see.
Elena comes into the kitchen. “Hi, honey. Would you like some coffee?”
I shake my head, my fingers clenching around the bottle.
Her eyes find the movement, but she offers me a small smile instead of judgment. “Very well.”
“I was hoping to box up her belongings today if that’s okay. If I’m going to be out of here by tomorrow, I’d like to get this part out of the way now. While I’m feeling brave enough to do it, at least. I know after today I won’t be feeling very brave.”
Elena pauses, her eyes are rimmed bright red and the dark circles that are indented under them have intensified. “You don’t have to leave, Tillie. You will always be family.”
“I appreciate all that you have done for M—us. I do. Thank you. But there’s no need for me to be here anymore.” I know I have no family. Nowhere to live. I leave that out though because despite it all, I know what I have to do. I also know that what I’m about to do is going to change the course of the way things go from here on out.
Elena doesn’t fight it. She nods and carries on, off to find the boxes I need. Once she’s gone, I shove my phone into my back pocket, push my hair into a high messy ponytail and tread my way over to the pool house.
I stop at the bottom of the steps. My heart pounding in my chest. Good to know it’s still there.
Slowly, I take the steps up until I’m face-to-face with the front door. My hand comes to the handle and I twist it open, stepping inside and flicking on the lights.
I suck in a breath and hold it in.
One.
My eyes fly around the room. The room that still has the innocent smell of baby powder swimming in the particles in the air. Two. My eyes go to her crib. Images flash through my brain of how I found her. Then they drop to the blood on the floor from when I cut myself open. Three. My hand comes to the bandage instantly. I look to the small clothes, the baby bag, the toys. Four.
Five. I let out my breath at five, taking a step backward. It is interfered with when I crash into a hard body.
Spinning around with tears pouring down my face, I find Nate, searching my face.
“I hate you. I fucking hate you, Tillie. But I’m going to be here for you until she’s gone because I know that this is about her right now.” He side-steps around me, entering the bedroom. “I’m not doing this alone.”
I don’t want him to. Even though I don’t understand why he hates me so much right now—even more than before—I enter the room and slam the door shut behind myself. He hits the sound dock on and scrolls through his phone until a random song starts playing. He turns it up. Loud. The walls shaking from the music, then he takes his hoodie off and starts picking up all of her stuff in the room.
I understand why he put the music on so loud. It’s to drown out our emotions so we can do what we need to do. I appreciate it. I exhale a shaky breath and get started on cleaning up the blood. Once that’s done, I start folding her blankets from her crib, the tears falling down my face now a constant waterfall. They don’t stop. “Lost in Paradise” by Evanescence starts playing and I have to fight the urge to change the song. I quickly fold the blankets up and put them in a box and then start taking the crib down while Nate rummages around the room in speeds so fast I barely catch what he’s doing.
Two hours later, everything that meant something to me is packed away in insignificant boxes. That’s all I have left of my daughter.
“Have a shower. We’re leaving here in forty minutes.”
I go to say that I don’t want one—that I don’t care. Instead, I walk straight for the bathroom, slipping in and out of the shower when a silver bracelet on the floor catches my eye. It’s the one Nate bought for her on our family day. It was supposed to be the first of many. I take the bracelet and squeeze it in my fist, my eyes coming to the mirror. I’ll keep this forever. It will be the anchor I use to remember who I used to be.
The drive to the cem
etery was long because the Malum plot of land is on the other side of New York. I didn’t ask why she was going to Malum and not Riverside. I figured Nate is doing what he thinks he needs to do and if it was Riverside, then it would be Riverside. The line of cars is a little excessive. I’m pretty sure I had never met these people before, but again, Nate probably had. Who knew, The Elite Kings Club have hearts.
I climb out of the back of the car, Nate, his mom, Madison’s dad, and Madison were in and start walking straight for the pit.
I need this day over with. I cannot take it for much longer. I need to put her to rest. The closer I get to putting her to rest, the more my blood pumping through my veins feels like poison.
I stand the closest to the empty pit and wait.
And wait.
People eventually crowd around, and the casket is finally sitting on the top of silver poles. I watch, zoning everyone else out as it slowly lowers into the ground while the minister sputters off lines from the fucking Bible. Since she has gone, I feel like I’ve died one-thousand deaths, only every time I die, I wake up and she’s still not here. I pick up a tulip and press my lips to the smooth petals before throwing it down.
“Mama loves you, baby girl. Forever and for always.”
I turn and walk away. I’ll wait for them in the car.
I wait for an hour before Nate and his family start coming back. He’s wearing a suit fit for a king. I giggle to myself at my thoughts. King. Tailored to fit every single inch of him perfectly, and a pink tie.
Pink. Her favorite color. Well, at least I assumed it was. Nate joked once about it because she would always grab my hair.
I take another sip of whiskey as the doors to the limo all open.
Everyone slides in, but it’s a blur. I’m hot, sweaty and bothered. Everything aches. I’m sick of being in pain. I want my daughter back in my arms. The thoughts are crippling. I slam my eyes closed and bring the rim of the bottle to my mouth, taking large gulps.