by Mariah Dietz
Adam is with Jenny and Lilly, watching a Disney movie in the den, and Jameson has already gone to Kendall’s room. Muriel seems to understand that the ‘no boys’ rule doesn’t apply after such a devastating event.
“We should let them get some rest. Why don’t we go next door, and we can come back tomorrow?” my mom suggests to our friends that have stayed to endure this hellish day.
“I want to help,” Abby says through fresh tears as Jesse pulls her closer to his side.
“You are, sweetheart, just by being here, you’re helping an insurmountable amount. But they need to rest,” my mom explains. She’s using her doctor’s voice. I know she’s had to deliver too many messages of bad news to families over the years and can see the pain of this loss on every inch of her, from her eyes that have remained laden with tears all day, to the deep frown that mars her brow and mouth, to her steady hands that never shake, which are now trembling.
“I’m going to stay.” My mom looks at me a moment and then nods. I don’t know what her expression silently tells me before she turns to leave. It was too brief and so many emotions were present, a single one was difficult to distinguish.
I head over to where Ace sits outside on the patio and place a hand on her knee as I kneel beside her. “I’m going to go get some sweats. I’ll be right back. Do you need anything?”
She shakes her head, refusing to look at me. She hasn’t looked at me all day, and it makes the shadow I woke up with loom more prominently inside of me.
After showering and pulling on some clean sweats, I go back to find Ace in her room, curled up into Zeus and crying. My heart aches as I tug on Zeus’s collar to get him to jump down and fill his spot. I trace my fingers over her spine and her cries become louder, filling me with more of my own tears. Her body is limp as I pull her closer to me. I’m pretty certain all of her fighting was expended trying to get through this day.
Eventually she falls asleep and I hold her to me. There’s something so unfamiliar between us right now, something that makes it difficult for me to relax and impossible for me to fall asleep.
Holding onto Ace begins to feel like gripping a handful of dry sand; the harder I work to comfort her and break through her walls, the more of her I lose.
The day of the funeral arrives and I feel the shadow looming with such darkness, it’s hard for me to focus on much else. I’ve been dreading this day. Everything is still so fresh and raw. I know the tiny layer of skin that has started to build over the deep wound is about to be ripped off, and I fear that the laceration may be deeper this time, especially for Ace, who still isn’t fairing well. I have yet to see her eat more than a few bites or sleep a full night.
A few days ago, she started vanishing. Completely disappearing. Always in the middle of the night when no one is there to see her go. She had asked me not to stay over anymore after the first night. I had tried not to act as hurt as I felt and nodded in response but begged her to let me help, to talk to me. She didn’t, and hasn’t.
The next night I was lying awake in my bed, mulling over Ace’s recent changes and contemplating what effects I caused and which were from David, when I received a frantic call from Kendall. It was two in the morning and Ace’s first act of disappearance, which turned into one of many. We were all freaked out, not sure of where she could have gone, as we scoured the entire house top to bottom and found her cell phone and belongings untouched. Her car was still in San Diego, so we knew she hadn’t driven anywhere.
Kendall called Caulder and Kyle, and Muriel called the police, as Jenny, Jameson, my mom, and I began frantically searching for her, calling out and waking up half of the neighborhood who joined in our efforts to find her. The police and the rest of the family arrived shortly thereafter.
It was Mindi who realized where she’d be. She was tucked away in the shop, fast asleep on the bench seat of Clementine.
“She and dad used to spend hours out here together when we were kids.” She said it like it wasn’t a big deal, but it was. I could sense it.
“Something isn’t right,” Kendall admitted softly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Kyle kicking over a lawn chair and turned to watch as he looked up at the sky, spewing a train of curses. I didn’t know if it was to David, a higher being, or no one at all, but he bent over and picked up the same lawn chair he’d kicked and heaved it at the ground, following after it and kicking it viciously. I’m pretty sure it was his way of admitting that he also knew that things weren’t right.
I’ve hardly seen Ace all morning and have a feeling that’s what she’s intended.
People begin arriving, sifting through the funeral home, and still, I don’t see her. Apparently even Jenny and Kendall aren’t sure where she is, and she rode here with them.
Abby, Jesse, Adam, Jameson, and I comb the unfamiliar funeral home for her and come up empty handed. Finding her at her own house has proven to be difficult. How in the hell are we going to find her here?
“I know where she is,” Kyle says, dashing out a back door before any of us are able to comment.
I turn to follow him, and Muriel approaches me, asking me to bring the casseroles and other sundry food items like bags of lettuce and rolls that have continued to be left at their house to a homeless shelter. I’m about to object and suggest they actually heat one up. I haven’t seen any of them eat anything, let alone a meal, but she wastes no time turning and bustling over to straighten a large photo of David and the girls that sits on an easel by the open casket.
It’s been five days since David passed away. He’d been at work at Saint Andrew’s Hospital, surrounded by cardiac doctors and nurses—some of the best and most prominent surgeons in the country—but it had been too late from the moment it occurred.
They found out that David, a heart specialist, had an aortic aneurysm. They tried to resuscitate him. My mom said they had tried well past the point where even if he had come back, he would never have gained brain function again. But when it’s someone you care about, someone you love, how do you give up?
Classical music seeps through the speakers that are hidden precariously throughout the room as I anxiously glance around for Ace or Kyle. I finally notice her tucked under Pedro’s arm. She looks like a stranger to me. She’s lost weight and you can tell she hasn’t been sleeping from the deep purple shadows etched under her eyes. Seeing her like this guts me, and seeing her accept comfort from Pedro just makes the pain that much more pronounced.
The pastor that has been visiting the house regularly, making arrangements for this moment, stands at the small podium and says a quick greeting, queuing people to take a seat. I walk to the front where the rest of the Bosse family congregates, now missing two key members, David and Ace, and filled with several that I’ve recently been introduced to. I take a seat next to Kendall, who immediately reaches over and grasps my hand tightly in hers.
The girls had decided to each do a piece of the eulogy. Kendall had mentioned to me that the four of them worked separately on the message they wanted to share but had come together numerous times to ensure that the entire message flowed. Ace was never around when they did; she’d been absent a lot, and when she wasn’t physically gone, she was mentally.
They give their eulogies in order of their ages beginning with Mindi. She looks composed and rigid as she begins reading from a paper that she grips so tightly I expect it to tear. Her voice hitches a few times and a few tears roll down her cheeks, but she makes it back to Kyle, who’s waiting with open arms, before she loses it.
Savannah’s next. She’s crying before she reaches the podium. I can tell it’s not only David’s loss that’s hurting the sisters today; seeing the pain havocking each other makes this even more heart wrenching for each of them.
Savannah cries, sniffs, and gasps through most of her eulogy, making it damn near impossible to understand, but the raw emotion can be understood by anyone. You don’t need to hear her words to understand the message.
&nb
sp; Jenny’s next. She’s weepy and makes no attempt at hiding it as she smiles the first Bosse smile I’ve seen in a few weeks, and a mixture of guilt and pain grip me.
Before Kendall stands up, she squeezes my hand hard then lifts her chin and walks to the front of the room.
“Our dad had a heart of gold. Our grandma would tease that it was the Puerto Rican in him, that the French was where he got his good manners and sense of discipline.” She pauses and smiles a little as tears trickle down her cheeks. “He protected us from a myriad of things. Sometimes it was something small, like never giving me cauliflower because he knew I didn’t like it, to making sure he walked us to the bus stop every morning. He didn’t just walk us, though. He stood there and waited, because that was our dad. He would never allow anything to harm one of us.
“Our dad was a ladies’ man.” She pauses again, and giggles circulate the room with quiet, muffled tears. “I mean that quite literally, being that he lived in a house with six women. He knew more about fashion and dating than probably ten men combined, but he never complained. He endured and battled monsters in our closets, fights over hair brushes and makeup, and watched every chick flick ever made, not because we forced him to … well except for the time we watched a marathon of Pretty Woman—that one we may have forced upon him—but it was because he was the most loving and selfless man. Our dad was an amazing man. He spent his life helping others and protecting everyone in varying degrees.
“He had the innate ability to see the best in everyone and everything. Things that some people saw as flaws, he saw as their unique differences, and he was never shy about telling people how special they were, or how great something was. He took the time to notice the small, minute details that others missed. Our dad made sure to make every day special for each of us, always reminding us how much he loved and cared about us with words and gestures. Sometimes it was in large gestures, and sometimes with small ones, like stomping on the roof on Christmas Eve to keep a sense of magic, and bringing our mom flowers once a week for over thirty years. None of us were ready to see him go, but his memory will forever be a part of each of us, because his footprints are stamped all over our hearts in trails that will never be erased.”
Her last words come out slightly garbled as she uses her palms to try to wipe the tears pouring down her red-stained cheeks.
Ace slowly makes her way to the front from the right wing of the room, not looking at anyone as she slides behind the podium. Her eyes travel to the ceiling for a moment, as though she’s trying to gather herself. When she faces the crowd, it’s apparent she isn’t actually looking at anyone.
“When I began writing this, I really struggled. How do I find the right words to describe my dad? The most beautiful and eloquent words can’t possibly begin to express how amazing, wonderful, and loving he was—and he was all of those things, but he was so much more. To some he was a doctor, to others a friend, a coach, a teammate, a mechanic, a son, a grandpa, and a dad.” I watch as she takes a deep breath, biting her bottom lip as her chin quivers. She quickly looks back at the ceiling for a prolonged moment. The pain visible on her tortured face makes several people tear up again, sniffling as they wipe their faces without discretion. “To me, my dad was all of those things, and so much more. He was my dance partner, holding me on his feet as we paraded around, ‘because that’s how princesses are treated,’ he’d say. He was my mentor and teacher, educating me on life, and love, and books. He was my milkshake after a particularly rough day, my strength when I couldn’t keep it together, my legs when I couldn’t carry myself to the end. But he was so much more.
“My dad taught me to conquer my fears, no matter how large or small they are. And to reach for my dreams, regardless of how unattainable they seem. My dad was a superhero, a warrior.” The word leaves her and I can tell how much strength it required to get it out watching her jaw slowly stretch as she works to compose herself.
“I loved him for so many reasons, but what I loved the absolute most …” She sniffs and two tears fall simultaneously down her cheeks “… was being his daughter.
“My dad taught us all lessons about life and love, kindness, sharing, and humility. He was wise beyond all measures. He taught us to speak French, something we pulled out and dusted off each year when we saw our family. And the pride radiating from my grandfather, to my father, to us girls … I loved that feeling. I loved when he was proud of me. Thankfully, my dad always seemed to be our biggest fan, so it never took much.” Her lips press together in a firm line, the corners wavering between falling and lifting as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. It reminds me of the first time I met Ace in my living room, something that feels like it was a hundred years ago, and yet looking at her now feels like it’s happening again.
“It took me three years of playing soccer before I got brave enough to score a goal. My dad never cared, though. Each game he’d lift me up on his shoulders and dance around with me, win or loss, assuring me that the score isn’t the most important part of the game, it’s your determination, your heart, and your will, and that just by going out and working, I won each and every time.” I wait for the joke. She’s told me this story before, ending it with, “I always tried to have him explain this win-win philosophy to my coaches, because they certainly followed the scoreboard.” But it doesn’t come.
“My dad preferred to eat his toast and popcorn both burnt.
“Not once did I ever hear my dad say a bad word, in any language that he fluently spoke.
“My dad and I secretly joined a soap box league when I was nine.” I hear Savannah whisper to Jenny, asking if she had known this, and listen to her quietly hiss a no.
“He called our mother ma moitié, his other half.
“I have a jar of pennies from my dad for each time something bothered me, and he’d silently slide one to me.
“He could consume two milkshakes in less than thirty minutes, and has his face on the wall of Maggie Lou’s to prove it.” She takes an audible breath and lifts a hand and I see a small remote in her palm.
“My dad was one of the most selfless people I’ve ever met, but he made one request for this day …” I watch her grimace. “His last words of wisdom to us all.”
She drops her arm to her side, and I know it’s because she can’t physically keep it up anymore as the quiet sounds of Let it Be, stream through the speakers. All around people laugh through their tears at the song we all seem to associate with David.
It’s not surprising that Ace disappears again after the burial. I can’t blame her. Watching the last of the soil pile on the casket has an adverse effect upon us all. I want to scream, and cry, and punch someone, all at the same time. Nothing about this is fair. My mom drives me home, and I feel like I’m twelve rather than twenty-three.
My fear is like a living thing, trapped inside of me, feeding off of what I had once felt so secure about—my relationship with her.
I’d managed to bring Jameson to that party at Karli Lincoln’s by assuring him Kendall would be there. Working to convince myself that the only reason I mentioned it was to help out a friend and be a good wingman. I think he knew I was lying, but it had been hard to tell; he was pretty infatuated with your older sister.
The party was not my scene. At least three-quarters of that crowd annoyed the hell out of me, but there I was. Do you remember Megan Vetter? If you don’t, I’m sure you would if you heard her hyena laugh. It made me realize I was underestimating the percentage of people I could stand. I feared you liked those people and the mind numbing conversations they shared.
Jameson followed me into the kitchen where a large bar was set up. I immediately looked over the different shaped and colored bottles to see what they had to offer. You know me, if I had to endure people like that before you, I needed the alcohol to help my nerves. It never managed to help me in the same way you do. You are my calm. Just seeing your smile relaxes every nerve in my body and allows my lungs to expand. A chick had obviously set
the bar up. Only girls worry about making sure everyone is going to be able to find something that appeals to them.
I poured two shots and handed one to Jameson before throwing mine back, enjoying the quick burn of the whiskey that made Jameson glare at me. He still hated that shit, like you do.
“Max Miller?”
I turned, hearing the high-chiming voice of Heather Rodgers and saw her trademark long blond hair. She was wearing a short white dress that stuck to her like a sticker. I know you say you watched me a lot in high school, and I hate that you thought I actually messed around with all of those chicks. I don’t think many of them even had a sincere interest in me, not like you. Those girls just wanted to piss someone off, or have meaningless sex, something I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to do again. Heather had pursued me a good portion of my junior year. I had avoided her at all cost because she played soccer with you when you made JV your freshman year, the year I started noticing too much about you. She was always a pretty girl for the most part. I’m sure you’d say she was gorgeous. You’re like your dad, and see the good in everyone. Her big blue eyes that were a little wide set, and white smile greeted me, and all I could think about was you. It wasn’t fair, not many can compete at your level.
“Oh. My. God! It is you! I can’t believe it!” She laughed and tightly gripped my bicep, either trying to feel my muscles or in an attempt to turn me on. I didn’t know, and quite frankly, didn’t care. You know how you say my mind never stops? Well a flash of thoughts were brought to the forefront of my mind and I could recall her being one of the ring leaders in causing drama for Jenny when she got pregnant.
The ugly memories made me take a step back, but she didn’t seem to notice as she continued talking. “When did you get back? Are you staying? Oh my gosh, we should totally hang out!”
