Chapter 178 Gone forever

Chapter 178 Gone forever
The burial was quiet and private. I don’t recall most of it. Maybe I do. But I don’t want to be flooded with images of my best friend being lowered to the ground. Losing Mr Dissick hurts but it’s nothing compared to this. 

He’s alive and she isn’t. I may see him again but Amelia is gone forever. 

A cry from somewhere in the house breaks through my thoughts. The pillow in my hands drops. We used to play with this pillow, sleep in this room. I wipe my nose that’s red from excess crying. We buried her today. Taylor and Rose are downstairs entertaining the guests. I hate this idea of the bereaved family serving visitors. They just lost their child, they should be given a break. I hurry to the bathroom and splash water on my face before heading out to check on Mace. 

Mace is with his grandpa. I may or may not have been the best mother to him. I make sure my face has no evidence of crying as I near the bottom of the stairs. Staying in Amelia’s room gives me courage to go an extra day. It’s my moment and I don’t like sharing it with anyone, not even my son. 

The living room is crowded with family I’ve never seen, friends of her parents and some of Ashley’s. Jason is at the corner in the single sofa playing his guitar. A calm falls over the living room as he plays. Dad looks up as if sensing my presence and ushers me in.

Heads turn in my direction. I dip my head, realising a little too late that I no longer have long hair to act as a shield. Mace is tucked in Dad’s arms. Fast asleep. I could have sworn I heard him cry. I collect him from Dad, bring my ear close to his chest and breathe along with him. He has no idea what has happened. That his Aunt and godmother is gone. I cradle him in my arms, my eyes downcast as the song continues.

It’s Amelia’s favourite song. My heart cracks a little more when Ashley starts singing. She has a not-so-nice voice but it’s the rawness of it, the pain that draws tears to my eyes. Her mother joins in, her father follows. Soon, the whole room is singing out of rhythm, baring our hearts out. 

I stare down at Mace, taking the napkin Dad offers me to wipe the tears on his cheek. I envy him. God. I envy him so much. 

His innocence. His ignorance. His naivety. I want it. I want to be a little girl again whose biggest problem is picking her favourite flavour of ice-cream. 

Someone settles down on my left. Dad shifts for another person to take his place. From the pink coloured nails, I can tell it’s Rose. She wraps her arms around my shoulders. Another arm circles my waist. I don’t know who is who but I relax my head on their shoulder.

A sharp cry ruins the peace. Mace jerks his feet in the air while clenching his fists. I rock him, willing him to shut it. I place a finger on my mouth and whisper, “Shh.” 

The little one blinks. His blues shine with tears and he bursts out laughing. A peal of laughter escapes me. I needed to hear that so badly. I hoist him up. His tiny fingers stretch to my cheek, his fingertips caress my tears. I pout, my lips brush his and he giggles. My heart still hurts but in this moment, I’m reminded of the little things. 

One by one, the guests leave. Ashley comes over to hug me. She pinches Mace’s cheeks, makes funny sounds at him. Offering me a kind smile, she says, “I’ll be in my room.” 

Taylor and Rose hang around for a bit. They are still my friends but times have changed. I flow in and out of the conversation. They talk about school, their grades, everything but nothing about their love lives. It sucks that we’ve drifted. But I don’t hold it against them. 

They leave and Jason slowly walks towards me. For someone who lost his beloved, he is so calm about it. Mace yawns. He is quiet like the good little boy he is. I swear he can read moods. 

Jason follows me to the guest room to get Mace’s feeding bottle. He turned one this week and I turned twenty but there was no time for a celebration. February is a bittersweet month for me. It has the best memories and the worst. It’s a love-hate relationship.

Mace’s lips pucker as soon as he sees the bottle. I purse my lips, a smile growing on them when he latches onto the bottle. 

They told me my baby might not make it. Suckers. He’s strong. He’s one-year-old and he’s awesome. 

“How are you?” Jason whispers.

I laugh. “Do you mean, how are you?” The question is best directed at him. He has been quiet, like the proverbial calm before the storm. Switching Mace to the other hand, I saunter to the bed and sit. Jason opens the windows. “How are you, Jason?”

“I’m holding up.” He stands by the window, his legs crossed at the ankles. “What about you, Cathy? You have been awfully quiet.” 

“What can I say?” I whisper in reply.

Jason pushes off the window and stops in front of me. “You can say what you feel, Cathy.”

Like it will do us any good. I watch my son suck the entire content of the bottle. He stretches his arms, mouth wide open. It’s time to sleep. I place him in the middle of the bed, propping pillows on each side of him so he doesn’t roll off. Jason observes me in silence. He’s still waiting for a reply. 

“For one, I’m pissed.” I thought God would be nice to us, only for that to happen. “I don’t think she should have died. Why are you so calm about this? You should be more pissed. The love of your life was taken from you. You’ll never hear her laugh again.” 

Jason’s blues close. He takes a deep breath and his eyes open. Without an invitation, he plops down on the bed and supports his weight on the headboard. I slip my fingers into Mace’s clenched fist. He blinks sleepily at me, soon his eyes close and his breathing evens out. If only I could sleep this easily or so fast. Sleeping no longer appeals to me. It’s not an escape from a reality but another reminder I don’t have her.

“Do you think Amelia would have wanted me to be pissed?” Jason asks. I shake my head without meeting his gaze. She would have wanted him to be happy. All of us. “I’m hanging by a thread. Doing my best not to break down because I promised her I won’t.”

“You shouldn’t have.” 

“Maybe.” He splays his fingers on the bed. I look up to see tears shimmering in his eyes. “We have to respect the dead, I guess.” 

“I guess so too.” A minute passes. I adjust so I’m cross-legged on the bed. Sometimes, he reminds me of him. They are alike in many ways. “You and Mr Dissick will make good friends,” I say without thinking. Jason’s smile falls. “I didn’t mean to bring him up.” 

“It’s okay.” 

Silence follows. I haven’t had time to think about Mr Dissick or check other options. I don’t know if Dad is still in contact with Dani, and I never asked. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe not. Jason clears his throat. I raise a brow and he rubs his palms over his knees.

“Did you try to talk to him?” Jason asks. “I don’t know what happened between you two, so I can’t pass judgement. But did you two ever talk? That day at the pub was crazy.” 

I chuckle. “Yeah. I didn’t know you could swing like that.” He laughs. I rock slightly to the side. “Thanks for having my back.” 

Until that day, I had never seen Jason in protective mode. If Amelia was still here, I would never have to worry about her safety. 

“I didn’t expect to see him,” I whisper. “We hadn’t seen each other in a long time. Too long.” 

“Maybe he came to change that?” 

Mr Dissick deleted his BC account. That’s not the attitude of someone who wants a change. I shake my head, putting an end to the questions Jason might be tempted to ask. 

“We should focus on the present,” I say.

He nods. “Yeah.” 

I’m done with that chapter, for now. But Jason doesn’t seem to be. Though he doesn’t voice out any more questions, I feel his gaze on me, and I become more self-conscious. I point to the door and jump off the bed. 

“I’m thirsty, I’ll be right back,” I say, already bulldozing to the door. 

I step out of the room and quietly shut the door behind me. After a deep breath, I start for the kitchen but the bell rings. The place is empty. Dad must have left for his hotel. I round the couch to open the door. If it’s another guest, I’ll have to politely send them back. The whole family is exhausted. 

From the peephole, I see no one, and a ball of annoyance turns around in my belly. This is not the right time for one of the neighbours kids to pull a stunt like this. 

The doorbell rings again before I leave, I yank the door open and my breath rushes out of my lungs.