November 9
Page 42
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“When are you due?”
“Nine weeks,” she says. “Two weeks ahead of Jordyn.” She glances up at me, pulling the lid off another container. “How is she?”
I take a seat at the bar, releasing a deep breath as I do. “Not good. I can’t get her to eat anything. She won’t even leave her room.”
“Is she asleep?”
“I hope. Her mother flew in last night, but Jordyn doesn’t want to interact with her, either. I was hoping she’d be able to help.”
Tate nods, but I notice her wipe at a tear when she turns around. “I can’t imagine what she’s going through,” she says in a whisper.
I can’t, either. And I don’t want to try. There’s too much that needs to be done before Kyle’s funeral for me to get caught up in what the hell is going to happen to Jordyn and their baby.
I walk to Ian’s room and knock on his door. When I enter, he’s pulling a different shirt over his head. His eyes are red and he swipes at them quickly before bending to put on his shoes. I pretend I don’t notice he’s been crying.
“You ready?” I ask him. He nods and follows me out the door.
He’s been taking this really hard, as he should. But it’s just one more reason why I can’t let this break me. Not yet. Because right now I’m the only one holding us all together.
A few days ago, I assumed I’d be spending today with Fallon in New York. I never imagined I’d be spending it at a funeral home, picking out a casket for the one person in this world who knew me better than anyone.
• • •
“What do you plan to do with the house?” my uncle asks. He pulls a beer from the refrigerator. As soon as he closes the door, he opens it again and takes out a casserole dish. He lifts the corner of it and sniffs it, then shrugs and grabs a fork from a nearby drawer.
“What do you mean?” I ask, just as he shoves a spoonful of chilled noodles in his mouth.
He waves the fork around the room. “The house,” he says with a mouthful. He swallows and stabs at the casserole again. “I’m sure Jordyn will move back to Nevada with her mother. Are you just gonna stay here by yourself?”
I hadn’t thought about it, but he’s right. It’s a big house, and I doubt I’ll want to stay here by myself. But the thought of selling it fills me with dread. I’ve lived in this house since I was fourteen. And I know my mother is gone, but she would never want us to sell this house. She even said so herself.
“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”
He pops the lid on his beer. “Well if you plan to sell it, make sure you let me list it. I can get you a great price.”
My aunt speaks up from behind me. “Seriously, Anthony? Don’t you think it’s a little too soon?” She looks at me. “I’m sorry, Ben. Your uncle is an asshole.”
Now that she brought it up, I guess it is in poor taste to be discussing this with me just ten minutes after they show up.
I’ve lost count of who all is at my house right now. It’s almost seven in the evening and at least five cousins have stopped by. Two sets of aunts and uncles have brought us casserole dishes and Ian and Miles are on the porch out back. Tate is still running around the house cleaning, despite Miles’s desperate pleas for her to rest. And Jordyn . . . well. She still hasn’t left her bedroom.
“Ben, come here!” Ian yells from outside. I gladly escape the conversation with my uncle and open the screen door. Ian and Miles are both sitting on the porch steps, staring out over the backyard.
“What?”
Ian turns around. “Did you contact his old job and let them know? I didn’t even think about it.”
I nod. “Yeah, I called them yesterday.”
“What about that friend of his with the red hair?”
“The one who was in the wedding?”
“Yeah.”
“He knows. Everyone knows, Ian. It’s called Facebook.”
He nods and then turns back around again. He’s hardly ever here because of his schedule, so I guess showing up and not knowing what he can do to help makes him feel useless. He’s not, though. The simple fact that he’s allowing me to stay preoccupied with all the busy work is actually helping a little bit. Especially after not being able to see Fallon today like I was supposed to.
I close the back door and bump into Tate.
“Sorry,” she says, sidestepping around me. “I think I’ve convinced Jordyn to finally eat something.” She rushes to the refrigerator and shoots my uncle a dirty look as she watches him dig through each of the casserole dishes.
“Stop snacking and let’s go,” my aunt says to him. “We have that dinner with Claudia and Bill.”
They hug me goodbye and say they’ll see me at the funeral. When my aunt isn’t looking, Uncle Anthony slips me his Realtor card. When I shut the front door behind them, I lean against it and exhale.
I think having to interact with all the visitors is the worst part of this whole family-member-death thing. I don’t remember visitors being this frequent when my mother died several years ago, but then again, Kyle was alive to play the part I’m playing right now. I sulked in my bedroom like Jordyn is doing right now, hiding away from all the people. The thought of Kyle taking care of things back then when he was so young fills me with guilt. He had to have been hurting over her death just as much as I was, but I needed him to hold things together since I did nothing but fall apart.
“Nine weeks,” she says. “Two weeks ahead of Jordyn.” She glances up at me, pulling the lid off another container. “How is she?”
I take a seat at the bar, releasing a deep breath as I do. “Not good. I can’t get her to eat anything. She won’t even leave her room.”
“Is she asleep?”
“I hope. Her mother flew in last night, but Jordyn doesn’t want to interact with her, either. I was hoping she’d be able to help.”
Tate nods, but I notice her wipe at a tear when she turns around. “I can’t imagine what she’s going through,” she says in a whisper.
I can’t, either. And I don’t want to try. There’s too much that needs to be done before Kyle’s funeral for me to get caught up in what the hell is going to happen to Jordyn and their baby.
I walk to Ian’s room and knock on his door. When I enter, he’s pulling a different shirt over his head. His eyes are red and he swipes at them quickly before bending to put on his shoes. I pretend I don’t notice he’s been crying.
“You ready?” I ask him. He nods and follows me out the door.
He’s been taking this really hard, as he should. But it’s just one more reason why I can’t let this break me. Not yet. Because right now I’m the only one holding us all together.
A few days ago, I assumed I’d be spending today with Fallon in New York. I never imagined I’d be spending it at a funeral home, picking out a casket for the one person in this world who knew me better than anyone.
• • •
“What do you plan to do with the house?” my uncle asks. He pulls a beer from the refrigerator. As soon as he closes the door, he opens it again and takes out a casserole dish. He lifts the corner of it and sniffs it, then shrugs and grabs a fork from a nearby drawer.
“What do you mean?” I ask, just as he shoves a spoonful of chilled noodles in his mouth.
He waves the fork around the room. “The house,” he says with a mouthful. He swallows and stabs at the casserole again. “I’m sure Jordyn will move back to Nevada with her mother. Are you just gonna stay here by yourself?”
I hadn’t thought about it, but he’s right. It’s a big house, and I doubt I’ll want to stay here by myself. But the thought of selling it fills me with dread. I’ve lived in this house since I was fourteen. And I know my mother is gone, but she would never want us to sell this house. She even said so herself.
“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”
He pops the lid on his beer. “Well if you plan to sell it, make sure you let me list it. I can get you a great price.”
My aunt speaks up from behind me. “Seriously, Anthony? Don’t you think it’s a little too soon?” She looks at me. “I’m sorry, Ben. Your uncle is an asshole.”
Now that she brought it up, I guess it is in poor taste to be discussing this with me just ten minutes after they show up.
I’ve lost count of who all is at my house right now. It’s almost seven in the evening and at least five cousins have stopped by. Two sets of aunts and uncles have brought us casserole dishes and Ian and Miles are on the porch out back. Tate is still running around the house cleaning, despite Miles’s desperate pleas for her to rest. And Jordyn . . . well. She still hasn’t left her bedroom.
“Ben, come here!” Ian yells from outside. I gladly escape the conversation with my uncle and open the screen door. Ian and Miles are both sitting on the porch steps, staring out over the backyard.
“What?”
Ian turns around. “Did you contact his old job and let them know? I didn’t even think about it.”
I nod. “Yeah, I called them yesterday.”
“What about that friend of his with the red hair?”
“The one who was in the wedding?”
“Yeah.”
“He knows. Everyone knows, Ian. It’s called Facebook.”
He nods and then turns back around again. He’s hardly ever here because of his schedule, so I guess showing up and not knowing what he can do to help makes him feel useless. He’s not, though. The simple fact that he’s allowing me to stay preoccupied with all the busy work is actually helping a little bit. Especially after not being able to see Fallon today like I was supposed to.
I close the back door and bump into Tate.
“Sorry,” she says, sidestepping around me. “I think I’ve convinced Jordyn to finally eat something.” She rushes to the refrigerator and shoots my uncle a dirty look as she watches him dig through each of the casserole dishes.
“Stop snacking and let’s go,” my aunt says to him. “We have that dinner with Claudia and Bill.”
They hug me goodbye and say they’ll see me at the funeral. When my aunt isn’t looking, Uncle Anthony slips me his Realtor card. When I shut the front door behind them, I lean against it and exhale.
I think having to interact with all the visitors is the worst part of this whole family-member-death thing. I don’t remember visitors being this frequent when my mother died several years ago, but then again, Kyle was alive to play the part I’m playing right now. I sulked in my bedroom like Jordyn is doing right now, hiding away from all the people. The thought of Kyle taking care of things back then when he was so young fills me with guilt. He had to have been hurting over her death just as much as I was, but I needed him to hold things together since I did nothing but fall apart.
