by Kelli Walker
“Whoa, hello to you too, Harley. I haven’t talked to Andy since he told me about his mom. I told him I’m here if he needs me, but otherwise, I figured he could use some family space.”
I breathed angrily into the phone, feeling like someone from a circus audience being forced to walk the tightrope.
“Eleanooooor. What do I do? Why didn’t you ask him? I’m not trying to be selfish, but can you imagine how I’m feeling right now? I just need to know one way or the other, so I can be mentally prepared.”
“He’s going to be there.”
My heart seized and stalled.
“WHAT?! Are you sure? You know for sure that he came home?”
“No, I have no idea if he’s here or not. But you said that you needed to know, so I improvised.”
I fumed but actually saw her point. Regardless, accepting that I might see Ryan after all these years did nothing to calm my nerves. “Elle, just… Why didn’t you ask Andy? You knew I’d be like this, and I can’t help it!”
Her voice shifted at that point from monotone but supportive to impatient and borderline chastising. “Oh, I don’t know, Harley. Let’s play that out for a second: Oh, hey Andy, what’s crackin'? Uh, not much except, you know, my mom just died. Oh, I’m sorry, Andy. Really. I am. Oh, by the way, is your big brother going to be at the funeral? I’m only asking because Harley needs to decide which outfit to wear - respectful mourner or slutty schoolgirl.”
“That is NOT what I’m saying. I… That… Oh, forget it.”
Knowing she made her point, Eleanor apologized, but I knew she still stood by her point. She asked if I wanted her to pick me up from home, but I explained that I wasn’t there.
“No, I’m going to ride with my parents. They’ve been friends with Rob and Janine since you, me, and the brothers started hanging out in high school. I’m changing now in my old room, but I’ll see you there.”
“Okay, Harley. Message me when you and your parents get there. I don’t want to go in by myself. And, as far as Ryan is concerned, who knows - maybe the stress of being a billionaire playboy has magically made him less attractive than when he was sixteen and wearing his dad’s old tux to prom.”
“Goodbye, Eleanor.”
I ended the call without waiting for a response.
Still nervous but less flustered than before the talk, I finished fixing my dress and eyed my appearance in the vanity. I hated myself for it, but I did find myself imagining what Ryan would think if he was going to be there and saw me. I plumped my breasts, adjusting my neckline, but felt degraded and discarded. I reacted in kind, grabbing a thin but loose-fitting cardigan. I nodded to myself in approval and once again turned to my phone to check the time.
I could hear my dad stomping back and forth from their bedroom to the ironing board. I smirked dryly, knowing exactly what he was wearing without even seeing. I threaded in a pair of modest stud earrings and was about to turn toward the door when my bracelet on the dresser caught my eye. I had only taken it off to shower, but as with the cardigan, I somehow felt like I was lowering myself if I let that part of me be exposed.
I picked it up, mulling the decision over. My finger traced over the inscription as I considered. The words, like a haunting mantra, rolled through my mind and heart.
Until The Sun Burns Away.
I squeezed the silver band past my knuckles and over my wrist, determining that to fret over the dilemma was to prove Eleanor correct and, since I wore it every day, today should be no different. I rationalized that my little sweater would cover it and keep it from being seen.
“It’s just terrible. I can’t even imagine. But at least Rob and his boys can find some comfort in knowing she is no longer in pain.”
“I’m still having trouble believing it’s true. You are absolutely right, though. Only cruelty, selfishness, or a miracle would’ve kept her alive. The loss is truly tragic, but a kindness all the same.”
I kept my thoughts to myself as the circle of my parents’ friends maintained a steady stream of conversation. The large crowd of funeral attendees around us were likewise conversing quietly in their own mingling groups. We all participated in the awkward dance of personal mourning amid a public gathering in our own way, spread out across the church foyer, waiting for the sanctuary doors to open from within.
“She really was a wonderful lady. Everyone loved her. She did so much for the community over the years. Between running the library and helping out so much with the church, she must’ve touched the lives of every person in town.”
Stirring movement at the edge of the crowd indicates to everyone that the doors are open. I joined the gentle moving herd and became part of the long line of people ahead of my parents. Gradually, the procession moved forward, and I stepped in between the worship hall’s furthest pews.
We moved closer as the line ahead thinned and dispersed to find seats after paying their respects to the family.
Looking forward, I saw him. I saw Ryan. Before I could consider the uptick in my pulse, the older couple in front of me turned around.
“Harley, dear, I didn’t even realize that was you.” Mrs. Crawford spoke with a friendly but pitying expression. “Are your mother and father here, too? I don’t see them.”
I forced a smile, urging my eyes to remain respectfully on hers. “Yes, ma'am. They should be back there somewhere.”
“Oh, good. I’m glad.” She shuffled sideways a little and tried to squint behind me. “You’ll have to forgive me, dear - my eyes aren’t quite what they used to be. Although… I suppose I can wait to say hello to your mother until the wake.”
I kept my smile as long as I had to, patiently waiting for her to lose interest and turn back around. My portrayal of politeness faltered as the older woman continued speaking. I realized that I might have to wait a lot longer than I expected.
I let Mrs. Crawford ramble on, cautiously keeping watch to see if she would take notice as I started to slowly slide sideways. She was happy just to hear her own voice, apparently not needing any kind of confirmation that I was listening. Careful not to ruin my chance, I let my attention stray back to the quandary of my ex-boyfriend.
Leaning over one of the pews bordering the aisle, I found Ryan at the front of the crowd. My heart skipped several beats in sequence as I automatically realized how good he looked. I watched him nervously, realizing that he didn’t seem to be any different than the days before he left me standing in the park.
At the same time, I could still feel the heartache, even after all those years.
Ryan
“Mr. Allen, thank you for coming.”
“Ryan, I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Julia, Jack, it’s good to see you. Thanks for being here.”
“Our condolences, Ryan.”
I made my best effort to smile as each person filed by. I knew they just wanted to shake hands and offer consolation, but it was overwhelming for me to be suddenly surrounded by so many faces I forgot existed.
Guilt combined with the strangeness as I glanced at my mother’s casket. It had been eight years since I graduated from high school and left for college. In all that time, I only came home for a handful of occasions and never for more than a few days in a row.
“Mrs. Lawson, hello.”
“Your mother was an amazing woman. She will certainly be missed.”
“Yes, she was. Thank you, Mrs. Lawson.”
I barely registered the old woman’s bony hug before it was on to the next person in line. Behind each man, woman, or child stood another, then another and another. The swarm stretched up the worship hall’s central aisle and continued through the sanctuary doors, farther than I could see.
I could feel myself panicking amid my emotions. I glanced at my brother behind me, and he got the hint.
Hollis stepped forward and took my place as the family’s representative, nominated by tradition to accept the throng of well-wishers. I gratefully surrendered the role, retreating to stand in support
with Andy as graciously as I could. Doing so was more difficult than I would’ve thought since I realized the irony of the action: I had just asked the second-born child of my mother and father to administer my duties as the eldest son, a position he had already been filling for close to a decade, thanks to my absence. I never asked him if he was willing, but he accepted the responsibilities, which were rightfully mine, without complaint.
My self-administered guilt, already magnified by my mother’s death, drew me to even greater depths as I fathomed my previously unconsidered audacity.
I watched him shaking hands, and I recognized the familiarity exchanged with each funeral attendee for what it was, a privilege that my decisions had willingly renounced.
I found myself falling into a whirlpool of worry, questioning my life’s choices, and wondering how I could be on the right path with so much pain in consequence.
“I’m surprised you even bothered to show up, seeing as you couldn’t make the time to show your mother she meant anything to you while she was still alive.”
I turned to see my father had joined us. He was the only one in the family that stood as tall as me, but our years of animosity and separation made me feel dwarfed in his presence.
“Dad, I don’t want another fight. Not here. Not now.”
“You see these people? All of them are here to pay their respects to your mother. That’s what they’re here to do. So why are you here, Ryan? Because, as far as I can tell, abandoning the woman who gave birth to you, the woman who raised you and took care of you, doesn’t offer anything that was deserved by her love and sacrifices for you, certainly not respect.”
My blood boiled as his words whispered truth into my heart. “She knew.”
“She knew? Just what, exactly, did she know, Ryan? How could she have known anything when her first son vanishes, preferring damn computers to her happiness? You don’t call or write to her, you don’t care, and you never visited once you became the big businessman in the big city.”
I was glad that I got home in time to say goodbye to my mother before she passed, but this was precisely why I so often avoided contact. I knew he was angry. I knew he didn’t understand my life or the importance of my work. Still, when he wasn’t giving me the silent treatment, my father would relentlessly provoke a confrontation.
Today, of all days, I wasn’t having any part of it. I long ago accepted that he would never forgive me for moving to New York. My father was a simple man, born and bred in the open, rural countryside, and I doubted that he could ever comprehend my company’s purpose in helping people or any other aspect of my life. It would always be a chasm of contention between us, but today I was burying my mother. I would not be goaded into using those feelings of loss to fuel another fruitless debate. Even though he refused to meet my eyes, believing me to be unworthy of even that smallest of acknowledgments, I turned and looked at my father.
“You’re wrong, Dad. I do care. Mom knew I loved her, just like she loved you, Andy, and Hollis. She’s gone, and there’s nothing we can do to change that, but Dad, even now you know that she loved you. She always supported me in the choices I made, and Mom never held it against me that I couldn’t be here more. I know that is something you could never do and, right now, I don’t really give a shit how much you think I don’t care or don’t want to be my father. Right now, I just want to bury my mother. Excuse me.”
I walked back to the chain of neighbors and friends, taking a position alongside Hollis to join in, thanking them for attending the viewing.
The next person in line stepped forward, and my eyes fell upon Harley. My stomach flipped, and my heart shuttered, leaving all lingering feelings about my father behind.
For a moment, she was just as speechless. Whether or not because she was more prepared for the encounter, Harley eventually managed to offer a comment of consolation.
“I’m sorry about your mom. She was… tenacious, compassionate, and a beautiful, heartfelt woman. Everything about her… she was just such a genuine person. I’ll miss her, and I know you do, too.”
Whatever fracture in my soul that was widened by my mother’s death now splintered like lightning into the most compounded, dispiriting heartbreak. The abyss swallowed my thoughts, my words, and threatened to drag the rest of me down with them. Harley reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling up against me into a hesitant hug. The slight awkwardness melted against the warmth of her closeness. My hands found a forgotten, familiar fit around her waist, and I squeezed her into me, resting my chin on her shoulder and discovering myself embraced by the floral fragrance from her long brown hair.
No sentence or other recognizable structure of words had yet to escape the chaos circling as a cyclone in my mind, but my profound delight in her presence, coupled with a powerful sense of a plenum restored, led me to breathe her name in recognition and relief.
“Harley,” fell as a whisper in her ear, and, in response, she seemed to flinch against my chest. Ultimately, Harley released her hold around my neck and pushed backward, fighting against my arms around her until I realized that the moment was over.
Once again, she was the one with enough courage to speak first.
“Um, it’s… It’s good to see you, Ry-… uh… I… uh… yeah.”
She seemed to be struggling with her own confusion, openly stuttering, then stopping herself when trying to voice my name. She moved to walk away, continuing down the line toward Hollis, but I couldn’t bear to see her go, not when she was actually there, and, in my dreams, I was haunted, incapable of reaching out to her.
The motion happened as instinct. I reached out and touched her hand, grabbing her wrist with a force of desperation otherwise uncalled for. She turned, scared and shocked. Her face was simultaneously pale with angst and flushed from a fever of feelings.
I released the strength of my fingers but didn’t let go. “I… I’m sorry, I…” The real reason for the act couldn’t be permissibly voiced. Even in my addled state, I knew that to do so would suggest an hypocrisy of mine, too heinous to admit.
My inelegant babbling continued, therefore, with no objective or end in sight. “I, uh… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… Well, I…uh…”
Embarrassed and ashamed, I knew my actions spoke volumes without warranting any admission. My sight dropped from Harley’s stunning, pulse-pausing beauty and beheld our hands, touching for the first time since I swatted hers away so many years before.
A silvery gleam at her wrist drew my attention, catching the sanctuary lights from just beneath the sleeve of her sweater. The bright glimmer shone through my eyes and penetrated deep within my mind, turning into a spotlight that searched, found, and backlit a time-obscured memory that remained hidden, dormant, and shrouded in darkness. The resulting silhouette prevented my perception but ushered forth a shadow of remembrance that at least suggested a context for the unknown shape.
Could it be?
My thumb shifted from the gentle but firm grip on her hand, sliding over her smooth skin until it reached the cuff of her cardigan. I edged the fabric back, revealing the source of the reflection.
My world stopped turning as time seemed to rebel against universal order, ridding itself of rules meant to forever distance pieces of the past from reaching the present’s pertinence.
My eyes darted from Harley’s wrist to mine, only two hands away, where the face of my watch could be seen. As a span of years seemed to shrink into an instant, causing past and present to pretend unity, a doorway toward the future appeared where I thought none possible.
I raised my head, having added both revelation and hope to my soup of emotional disarray. Harley looked up from a similar, shocked study of our wrists, and her irises met mine. The impossible thought being reflected through her big blue eyes mirrored my own.
You kept it? You’re wearing it?
But, the inscription, the words… After all this time?
Neither of us spoke, but, if only for a moment, we were seventee
n again, experiencing a connection that needn’t be burdened by words.
Harley’s demeanor was the first to change, while I remained stricken and staring like a dumbfounded fool. She glanced at the line of people behind her and ahead toward Hollis, who was quietly watching the reunion of romance relinquished. She turned back to face me just as my confusion was considering a smile, but her shift in expression and subsequent actions had me exchanging that hopeful happiness for further flummoxed frowns. Doubly glassy-eyed from simultaneous afflictions of both confusion and tears, Harley faced me again while wearing what could only be described as horror, humiliation, and shame. She tugged her wrist from my grasp, lowered her head, and sped out of sight before I could even mumble a word.
The sanctuary’s atmosphere and its line of people remained unchanged, the vast majority of whom hadn’t noticed anything inordinate taking place.
The next person in line stepped up to meet with me and mourn together, if only for a short time, but I merely nodded and shook their hand with fingers reduced to rubber, not hearing a word that was said. I turned to Hollis and could read his opinion of the matter clearly, for his was a brotherly expression of empathy, wholly lacking in any suggestion of sympathy. Initially, I thought he was the only one who recognized Harley and I’s meeting, but soon I was corrected as my father’s disappointed curses under his breath reached my ears.
Undisturbed by either of their responses because any amount of ridicule couldn’t surmount my own self-condemnation, I looked over the line of people toward the doors where Harley disappeared.
It wasn’t until that moment, in the middle of my mother’s funeral, that I was finally forced to face my own feelings and fully admit to myself just how much I missed her. I knew then that I didn’t deserve her, not in a million years after what I put her through, but, still, I already knew what it was to have a life without her and, more than anything else I’d ever wanted, I needed to know if there was another way: a life with Harley Andrews, living it together like one long, wonderful day… Until The Sun Burns Away.
