He’ll never be in it again.
I’ll never wake up to his arms around me.
He’ll never complain about me sticking my cold feet under his legs to warm them up.
The bed is made, and I want to get mad at Sam for messing it up. She should have left it how it was, though it’s not like Jake woke up that morning. He hadn’t been home in over a week, going on a long stretch at the teaching hospital we joked he was temporarily married to.
I don’t remember what he was wearing the last time I saw him. I had the day off and was still in bed, half asleep, when he left. He kissed me goodbye and said he’d call later, which he always did. Two days went by just like normal, and then…tears are back in my eyes, and it’s a wonder I’m not dehydrated from crying so much.
The clothes I wore that day are still on the floor, hastily strewn about. The yellow skirt, blue tank top, and a red headband, stand out against the dark hardwood floor, reminding me how fast things can change. I got dressed that morning in an outfit that vaguely resembled Snow White, and went to work like my life would continue to coast along like normal.
“What about this?” Sam holds up a black dress. “Oh, never mind, those are skulls. I thought it was just a design.” She frowns and puts it back, then thumbs through my clothes again. I make a move to the closet, about to tell her that I own exactly one appropriate dress, and the last time I wore it was for a job interview two years ago. I have what most call an ‘interesting’ fashion sense, but the way I see it, everyone else is way too boring. Clothes can be a way to express yourself, just as much as tattoos and makeup.
Then I see Jake’s side of the closet, with his clothes organized by color and type. It hits me hard, and it takes every last ounce of strength I have in me not to come undone. My sister looks at me, tears in her own eyes, and grabs the skull dress and a black sweater, and rushes over, wrapping her arms around me.
We cry together, and in that moment, I’ve never felt closer to my sister. She’s five years older than me and my polar opposite. She got her degree in agriculture, married a nice guy with a head for business and a background in farming, and popped out her first kid exactly ten months after their wedding. They’re set to take over the family farm, carrying on the Belmont traditions and doing exactly what they should.
I’m not good at following the path. I’ve been an outside-the-lines kind of person my whole life, which isn’t always easy in a small town, one whose rumor mill is bigger than the actual mill.
There were times when I was the only one marching to the beat of my own drum, and the loneliness got to me in moments of weakness. And then I found someone who loved me despite that, someone who supported my decision to follow my own dreams and not just go through the motions and become a farmer’s wife.
“I’ll help you get dressed.” Sam goes into the bathroom and returns with a brush. She combs through my long brunette hair before braiding it and then lays out my clothes. The black sweater is a slightly different shade of black than the dress, which would normally drive me crazy, but seeing them together makes me feel nothing at all.
I run my fingers over Jake’s pillow and then get dressed. Everything begins to feel surreal and time escapes me. Sam fills a black clutch full of tissues and takes my hand. We step outside into the bright sunlight and walk down the old stone path from my little porch to the gravel driveway, where the rest of our family is waiting in my dad’s black Escalade.
My brother Scott, who I only see on special occasions since he got an engineering job in Orlando a few years ago, welcomes me in a tight hug. I sit in the back of the SUV with him, and once we get going, he pulls out a silver flask and offers it to me.
I blink my tear-soaked eyes and take it from him, taking a big gulp. And then another. And another, until he takes it away from me. My body shudders in a sob and he puts his arm around me. I rest my head on his shoulder, trying to disassociate from everything for the hour-and-a-half-long drive it’s going to take to get to the cemetery.
I’ve been told that the grief will come in waves, and over time, the crash on the shore lessens. I’ll still feel the spray of the ocean, but it won’t feel like a constant battle to stay on land and not be washed out to sea. The only problem is, the waves haven’t started yet. I’m still in the middle of the sea with no land in sight, desperately treading water. My heart feels like it’s about to give out, that it can’t beat another beat because of the pain. So I stop. I become still. I welcome the cold darkness that wraps me up and pulls me below the surface.
And then I open my eyes and I’m above the surface again and have to go through the whole thing over and over again.
Dying, every single day.
Chapter 2
Chase
Present day…
I bring the beer to my lips, take a swig, and look at my father. It’s been years since I’ve seen him, and even longer since I’ve been back to Summer Hill. My father’s wife—the one he cheated on and the affair resulted in me—isn’t too keen on the sight of me. I’m forever the Jon Snow of the family, since looking at me reminds her of her husband’s infidelity and all. I can’t blame her for that since I am the product of dear old Dad getting lonely on business trips.
My half-brother, Josh, claps his hand on my back. “It’s good to see you again, Chase. I just wish it was under different circumstances.”
I nod. “Yeah. It has been a while.”
“It’s been too long. Are you staying this time? For a few days at least, right?”
“Uh, maybe,” I start, trying to think of a polite way to say ‘hell fucking no,’ though really, I have no reason to rush out of here and get back to my life in New Jersey. Josh takes a step back and helps his pregnant wife to her feet. She winces, putting her hand on her back, and slowly comes over. They’re good people, who have gone out of their way to include me as family.
Josh and I share a slight resemblance, one we get from our father. Hazel eyes, wavy brown hair. Tall and muscular. But that’s where the similarities end. I look back at our father, noting how we got those characteristics from him, and realize how fucking old Dad looks.
It probably has something to do with the fact that he’s dead.
After years of drinking, his liver finally shut down and he spent his final days on home hospice care. The wake just ended, and just the family is here to say our final goodbyes before his body is cremated.
Moving to the casket, I take another sip of beer and hold up the bottle, silently toasting my father. A weird sense of guilt creeps over me. I don’t feel sad. I don’t have a longing in my heart for the man who sired me and left me without a second look back. I got cards and money over the years every Christmas and birthday, and a few visits mixed in there, but he was really just a stranger.
“I meant it when I said you should stay a while,” Josh tells me, wiping down the counter. I lean back on the barstool and pick up my whiskey, ice clinking on the glass. “Melissa and I could really use the help. It’s tough enough working with one kid at home. Adding twins into the mix is going to make things…interesting.”
I finish the whiskey and nod. “I don’t know. I don’t want to impose.”