by TJ Fox
Riff looks down at the floor, so I can’t see his eyes, but I see him wipe at his cheek. After a minute, he comes over and puts his hand on B’s head. “I’m sorry, B-Rad. I didn’t mean it.”
B turns, and Riff bends down to give him a hug. I stand and start clearing the table, giving them some time together. I need a little time myself. I knew this would happen eventually, probably sooner rather than later with the anger I could see building. I just didn’t realize quite how much it would hurt to hear it.
Riff is right in a way. I was a complete stranger to them just a few days ago, and under normal circumstances, I shouldn’t be doing any of these things for them. There is not one thing normal about any of this though. From here on out, everything is going to be about trying to find a new normal.
I want to do what is right for them, but Riff’s words make me feel like I’m failing. I hurt because I know he hurts, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. I need to learn to deal with it because I’m certain this won’t be the only time one of them says or does something that’s going to cause me pain.
“He didn’t mean it.” Simone must have followed me into the kitchen. “I know he feels awful for what he said.”
I look over at her. “I know.” I don’t tell her everything’s okay, because it isn’t, but she doesn’t need to worry about me on top of everything else. “We’ll get through this. It’ll probably continue to feel shitty and be messy, but we will get through it.”
Without any more words, she helps me clean up from lunch. I don’t know where Riff or B is since they didn’t come into the kitchen. After Simone heads upstairs, I stand at the sink in front of the window looking into the back yard across the deck. I wonder when, or even if, we will ever find anything resembling normal.
I spend the rest of the afternoon working. The argument earlier has kept everyone off in their own spaces. B and Simone circling from their rooms to the back yard then around to the TV, neither of them lasting long in any spot. I notice that B’s choice of location is, more often than not, near wherever I am at the time. If he isn’t near me, he is with Simone, never spending time alone. Riff stays in his room the rest of the day, only coming up to join us for a very quiet dinner.
After dinner, Simone, B and I watch TV for a while before bed. Riff returns to his room and doesn’t come up again. As I get ready for bed, I consider calling Sam and asking if she thinks he should talk to her before his appointment next week but decide to wait and see how tomorrow goes. It’s going to be another difficult day. One in a seemingly endless string of them.
Chapter 24
I’m up early this morning, having given up on sleep, too worried about what today is going to look like. Worried about Riff’s outburst yesterday. Worried about screwing everything up and hurting these kids more than they already are. Just… worried. Coffee is my first priority if I have any hope of making it through today. I go to grab for the pot to fill it when I see a piece of paper on the counter. It is folded in half, and my name is written in a messy print across the top. I pick it up, and the jagged tatters along the edge cling together as I unfold it.
Teri,
I’m sorry I yelled at you yesterday. I didn’t mean what I said. I don’t blame you and you aren’t ruining anything. You are just trying your best. I know that. I’m just really angry right now about everything. Dylan. This situation. Myself. I was mostly mad at myself yesterday because I felt bad for having fun with everything else going on. Instead of talking to someone about it like I know I’m supposed to, I yelled at you. I know yelling at you is the wrong way to deal with it. None of this is your fault. I’m pretty upset at how I acted, and I feel terrible that I made B-Rad so upset. I want you to know that I do appreciate all that you are doing to keep us together and take care of us. I will work harder and talk to Sam so that I don’t let something like this happen again. I really am sorry.
Riff
Damn! This kid! I had seen signs before of how much he feels and how deeply, but he is just… Damn! He is so mature and self-aware for his age, but he tends to bury that under layers of irreverence or quiet.
I lean against the counter with my head down trying to absorb this facet of Riff. I’m relieved to know that he is aware of his anger and feel better about waiting to get him in to see Sam knowing that he isn’t a full-blown pressure cooker waiting to explode. Acknowledging his anger is a huge step forward I think. I carefully fold the note and put it in my pocket, then set about getting coffee and breakfast going.
The rest of the morning is as quiet as last night was, though not as tense. Riff is quiet and to himself, but he does go for a walk with B and Simone after breakfast. I wonder what they talk about or even if they talk at all. After reading his note, I’d be willing to bet he has offered his apology to both Simone and B-Rad.
I wait until after lunch to talk to the kids about Mr. Ferrell’s coming visit. I explain to them what Dylan wanted, but I’m not sure they truly understand because this is very different from what they went through with their mom. She had a traditional funeral with a service and visitation at the funeral home and then another, smaller service at the cemetery. I get the impression they didn’t like any of it. I don’t think there is ever anything to like about funerals, but I don’t think they found any kind of comfort in it either.
There are a few tears from Simone, but Riff stays quiet, and B just doesn’t seem to fully grasp what is going on.
“We can do this whenever you guys are ready and comfortable. It doesn’t have to happen right away, but I thought we should at least talk about what you wanted. Do you want to do it right away? Wait a while? Do you not want to do this at all? I can have Mr. Ferrell take care of this if you’d rather. What do you want to do?”
Simone scrunches her nose. “What happens if we wait? I mean… there’s ashes, right? Do they just sit somewhere or something?” She gets a little quiet. So much so, it is nearly a whisper. “Isn’t that kinda creepy?”
She looks at Riff with a slightly horrified look on her face. He just shrugs before giving a little nod. “Yeah. I don’t think I like that idea too much. I don’t really want to do this at all, but… the thought of him just hanging out on a shelf somewhere… I like that a whole lot less. Besides, it’s what Dylan really wanted, right? Can we just do it? Like, as soon as Mr. Ferrell leaves?”
“Are you sure? If you don’t think you’re ready, we can always wait.” I watch the three of them trying to decide if this is the right thing for them. B has slid closer to Simone and is leaning into her side, quietly waiting for his siblings to decide. Riff and Simone look to each other and nod.
“Yeah. We’re sure.”
I nod and sit back in my chair. “Okay, then. That’s what we will do. As soon as he leaves, we can head out.”
Mr. Ferrell shows up a little after three. He comes inside, and I motion to the living room. He hands the urn to me when we get inside. It’s a very simple, smooth jar in a dark metal. No decoration or markings. It’s heavier than I’d imagined.
He takes the chair by the window. I set the urn on the coffee table and sit on the couch. He hands me an envelope. “This has everything that you will need. The directions to the spot at the lake, a key to Dylan’s storage unit and information and directions to get to it. There is also paperwork that explains the disbursement of Dylan’s trust. It will be split equally among the remaining three children and added to their existing trusts. The house was a rental, and he has requested that the furniture be donated to charity. I will be handling those arrangements. He had no other assets or property other than what you will find in storage.”
He is sitting with his hands clasped as he lists off all this information. “It is all essentially just information. There is nothing for you to do except see to his wish with regards to his ashes. Do you have any questions for me?”
I shake my head. “No. Thank you for handling all the details an
d coming here today. It makes things just a little easier, and I appreciate it.”
“I’m glad I have been able to help.” He nods as if that resolves everything. “I’ll leave you to it then.” Standing, he walks to the door, out to his car and drives away.
I walk back into the living room and stand by the couch, looking at the urn on the coffee table. I hear a noise and turn to see all three kids standing just outside of the room over by the steps. B is holding Simone’s hand.
Riff is looking at the urn. “Is that…” he trails off, not knowing how or unwilling to say anything else.
I sit in the chair by the window where Mr. Ferrell had just been sitting and open the envelope. “Yeah.”
No more delays. It’s time. “If you guys want to get ready, we can leave at any time.” They head out of the room without a word.
I look at the directions and realize that it’s a place I’ve been to before. Just a few weeks ago in fact. I’d gone on a picnic there with Dylan. I push aside the memory not wanting to think about the motivation for his decision in taking me there. I pull the remaining items out of the envelope. Another piece of paper has an address, directions and a locker number written on it with a key taped to the bottom. I also find the trust paperwork but don’t bother reading it. None of that is important right now. Returning everything to the envelope, I freshen up and grab my purse.
Back in the living room, the kids are standing just inside waiting for me, as though they don’t want to be anywhere near the urn. I walk over to the table and pick it up. “Ready?” They nod and follow me out to the car. I pause before getting in. “If at any time today, you decide to change your mind or feel you aren’t ready, just say the word, and we’ll stop and do this some other time. You don’t have to do this right now if you don’t want.”
Riff shakes his head and climbs in the car. Simone and B follow his lead.
I’m surprised when we pull up to the parking lot that the drive here went so quickly. I expected it to drag with the heavy quiet and knowledge of where we were going and why, but it went by without me noticing. Riff is out of the car and starting down the trail before I’ve gotten my seat belt off. The kids had told me earlier when I explained things to them that they knew the spot. It was Dylan’s favorite, so it is no surprise that Riff knows how to get there.
Simone gets B out and I pick up the urn. The spot is about a ten-minute walk, but it’s a nice day, even for the middle of June. There is a breeze coming off the lake to keep things from being too warm. The lake can’t be seen from the parking lot, but it’s near enough I can hear a boat in the distance.
We take a narrow side trail that shoots off the main trail towards the beach. The smaller trail leads through a few trees where the warmth of the air cools in their shade. It ends in a small clearing at the edge of the lake. There are several large rocks surrounding the clearing, but the middle is a grassy area. It’s open along the edge, giving an unrestricted view of the lake. I wouldn’t call it a cliff, more a very steep hill, but we are able to look down and across a large expanse of the lake from this spot.
Riff is sitting on one of the rocks near the edge looking out over the lake. His feet are planted apart, and his arms are on his knees with his hands clasped and hanging between them. He doesn’t turn when we come into the clearing. I take the urn and place it near the edge of the hill and sit on a nearby rock. Simone and B sit on the ground near me with their legs crisscrossed.
I look around the clearing and across the lake. I thought it was an amazing spot when Dylan brought me here. I can understand why he chose this place.
I don’t look at the kids as I speak, just look out towards the lake. “This whole situation is one giant, sucky mess. One that none of you deserved but got stuck with anyway.” After pausing to swallow my tears, I continue. “There are things that need to be done that we don’t want to do or don’t like, but the only thing that needs to be done right now, here, is to say goodbye to Dylan.”
There is no swallowing back the tears anymore, but I need to finish and help the kids through this. Riff’s note got me to thinking about how to do this for the kids. “I have thought about what we could do. What we should do. Both for Dylan and for the three of you.” It takes another couple of seconds before I can finish. Being here, doing this, is a whole lot harder than I imagined it would be.
“I think it would be a good idea for each of you to talk about your favorite memory of Dylan, because it’s important to remember the good things about the people we love, and I know there are good memories for all of you. But before you do that, I think you should tell him, as if he were right here for you to speak to, how you feel about him. Completely and honestly, whether it’s good or bad, tell him exactly how you feel. You don’t have to do any of this. This is just a suggestion, but… I think…” I suck in a hard breath that hurts. “I think it’s the right thing.”
Simone and B are looking at me when I finally look over. They are crying. Riff still isn’t looking over, but he reaches up to wipe his cheeks. I turn back to the lake and wait, listening to the water and the insects. It’s peaceful here, but not quiet.
B has leaned against my leg with his head on my knee. He sniffles and wipes his nose on the back of his hand. “I miss him,” he whispers. “He always gave me piggy back rides and picked me up after school.” I put my hand on his head and run my fingers through his hair.
I can hear a boat off in the distance again. It isn’t loud, but the sound fades as it moves away. There is a small splash below, maybe a frog or a turtle in the water. The breeze moves across the clearing, bending the grass. Neither of the other two speak, so we stay there listening to the world around us.
“You didn’t ask us.” Simone finally breaks the silence. “You remembered how hard things were for us when Mom got sick, and you chose not to do that to us, but you didn’t ask what we wanted. I get it, but you chose wrong. I love you, but what you chose hurts me. I wanted you. I wanted time. I wanted whatever memories I could get, and you took those away. It would have hurt to see you like that, but you being gone now hurts even more.” She is furiously wiping at the tears, but they keep flowing.
“I remember how you took care of us and Mom after she got sick. You left school and came home to take care of everyone, but you never let anyone take care of you. I remember when I got the flu really bad last winter. You sat up all night with me and cleaned up my mess every time I didn’t make it to the bathroom to throw up. I remember how you would wash my face and tell me stories about the crazy things you saw people do while you were away at school. I felt horrible, but you made me feel better anyway. I’m going to miss that, Dylan. I miss you!”
Riff gets up and starts pacing around the clearing, hands in his hair, fists clenching. “This is stupid! He isn’t here! He’s dead. He ran away, leaving us, so he could die alone. What’s the point?!” He shouts and runs over and kicks the urn. It falls over and rolls to the side, but not down the hill. The lid must be fixed somehow, as it doesn’t come off.
“Gaaa!” he yells out as loud as he can. “Why!? Why the hell did you leave us?! You were my big brother. I looked up to you. You did everything with me, never missed a practice or a game, showed up to every single concert even when you were away at school. When Mom got sick, you swore we would do this together. You said we would take care of them together and everything would be okay! You PROMISED! You were my hero, and I believed you, but you LIED! You aren’t here! You broke your promise! You ran away and died! You left! YOU LEFT ME! How could you?” His voice is a broken whisper by the end, the sound rough and scratchy. Painful. He stops pacing, facing the urn laying on its side.
“How could you?” He drops to his knees bawling. I run over and drop next to him and hold him. He just stays there, limp and crying, so I hold him tighter. Then he grabs on and squeezes so tight I almost can’t breathe, but it’s okay. I can take this kind of pain.
We stay there kneeling on the ground, me rocking him while he finally unleashes all that he has been holding in. He keeps mumbling things. I only catch a few words, “why” and “leave”. Nothing else matters in this moment but this broken boy I am trying desperately to hold together. Because that is what he is. Even with all his moments of maturity that make him seem so much older, he is just a boy.
I don’t let go when the words stop. I don’t let go when the tears slow or when his stuttering breath evens. I don’t let go when the sounds of the lake return, and all else is quiet. I don’t let go when the pressure of his hold eases. I do not let go.
When he finally lifts his face to look at me, his bloodshot eyes stand out against his darker complexion. They are puffy and full of sadness, but the anger is gone. It’s only a moment before he puts his head back down on my shoulder and holds me tighter. I can breathe just a little bit easier because, for the first time in days, I believe he is going to be okay.
Simone and B come and sit with us, and we shift around to make room. We arrange ourselves much like we had on the couch the night we found out about Dylan. B in my lap, Simone curled into my right and Riff mirroring her on my left. We sit and watch the lake for the longest time, letting the peace of this space soak in.
As we sit there, my heart rips into three pieces. Each piece firmly and permanently becoming theirs, one piece belonging to each of them. I ache and am shredded for them, alongside them.
I think we must have been here for hours because the sun is nearing the horizon, and the light has gone soft. My arms and legs have gone numb from sitting still so long. “Come on, let’s finish what we came for.” I nudge them all up and stepping lightly to get the feeling back in my legs, we walk over to where the urn is still lying on its side.
I pick it up and figure out how to remove the lid, then walk back to the middle of the clearing where I think we set up our blanket the day Dylan brought me for our picnic. Riff pulls B into his side, and Simone steps into his other side, arms around each other. I walk around the clearing, pouring as I go, trying to cover as much of the space as I can. As I pour the last of the ashes out, I say, “Thank you. You seriously messed up how you went about this, and you are going to miss out on so many memories with them but thank you. I don’t know what you saw in me or why you thought you could trust me with these stunningly, amazing kids, but thank you. They are the most beautiful gift, and I will treasure them. Always.” The last of the ashes fall away, leaving the urn empty.
