Tomorrow, at sunrise, I’d go running for the first time since I lost them—feel the fresh air on my face in the early morning, just as I used to every day with Mike, back home in Australia. Vicki would think I was okay again, Dad would be happy I’d left my mum and Harry in the past, and I would run. Nothing more. Run, until everything that hurt in my heart and my soul moved to the edges of my limbs, into my knees and my lungs, and I would leave it there. Leave the pain—leave the sorrow. Leave David.
When we saw each other at the funeral, he wouldn’t know me. I could play a different Ara. I could stand strong—smile. I would smile. If only for a second, just to nod toward him, while in my mind I’d be saying goodbye.
Chapter Fifteen
“Dad, you look nice,” my voice trailed up as I set eyes upon my suit-wearing father, coming out of his room.
“Thank you, Ara.” He nodded solemnly.
It hurt to hear his voice sounding so flat and sad. “You okay, Dad?”
“I’m fine, honey.”
“Okay. Hey, um, Dad?” I said as he started walking away. “Is this dress okay for a funeral?”
His lips twisted tightly as he studied my mournful black attire: a soft cotton dress, with a burgundy belt around the waist. “Ara, are you sure you’re ready for this?”
I frowned up at him. “For a funeral?”
“Yes. It’s just that—it’s barely been two months, honey.” His eyes held obvious memory of my mother. “Are you sure you can cope with this?”
“No, Dad. I’m not sure. I’m actually not sure about anything anymore. But I want to go—for Emily and…David.” His name stuck in my throat.
Dad nodded, but didn’t speak.
The clock on the wall at the base of the stairs chimed eight. The funeral wasn’t until nine o’clock, but Mrs Rossi asked my dad and his family to attend a church service beforehand. Unfortunately, he agreed.
“Had breakfast?” Dad asked, heading down the stairs.
“Yeah,” I lied. I knew I should sit at the table and eat with him—maybe even have a coffee to help ease the chill in my skin from my early morning run, but he was better than anyone at seeing through my mask; I wasn’t okay. I wasn’t ready to see a coffin or see people crying. But I had to see David one last time before he was gone from my life forever.
I sat at the base of the stairs, hugging the post, listening to the calm of the house; the way the smell of toast could make everything seem kind of okay. My hunger pangs grew, twisting my gut into knots. But instead of eating, I watched my father with a careful eye—resting his chin on interlaced fingers, staring out at the white glare of the morning. I wondered where his thoughts were—where his heart was. He said so little about what he felt or how he was coping, that watching him, seeing him look so sad and distracted, came as a bit of a shock.
“All set to go, are we?” Vicki asked, coming down the stairs.
“Yeah.”
“Did you eat?”
I nodded, resting my head against the post after.
“Vicki.” Dad smiled at her adoringly as he came in from the kitchen. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you, Greg.” She straightened the front of her skirt. “I’m just sorry for the occasion.”
Dad nodded, and the sadness stole the smile from his blue eyes.
Vicki did look nice in black, but it seemed like such an unfriendly colour, almost cruel really, to say goodbye to someone in. If my last memory were of my funeral, I’d want to see everyone dressed in colours—to celebrate my life, instead of mourn it.
“Sam, you ready?” Vicki called.
“One minute, Mom.”
“Hurry up. We’ll be in the car.”
“Okay.”
Dad grabbed the keys and Vicki shouldered her purse, and as she pulled the front door open, my breath stopped short of my lips. The cool morning air blew across my knees, sending a chill through my skin, and the sun reflected brightly off the damp black road outside, like a spotlight—blinding me. But my eyes did not betray me, displaying perfection before them. “David?” my dad said cheerfully. “You’re right on time.”
Right on time?
David stood in the doorway with one hand in the pocket of his tailored black suit as he shook my dad’s with the other. “Good to see you again, Mr Thompson, Mrs Thompson.” He nodded politely at Dad, then Vicki, and turned his head to look directly at me.
I was shrinking. I could feel it. I wanted to close my mouth, wipe the dumbfounded stare off my face, but I really loved David too much to hide the elation in my soul. He looked so damn perfect. There was no way I’d be able to control my emotions now.
“Good morning, Ara,” he said in that smooth, weightless voice.
“Um…hi,” I said, and my eyes fell to the floor. I didn’t want to see him standing there, looking at me like nothing ever happened between us—like we were just friends.
“Uh, Ara?” Dad broke the lengthy silence. “Since you kids are having your own wake at Betty’s, I thought you might like to ride in with David?”
“You mean you assumed.”
“Ara?” Vicki gasped.
“No, she’s right, Vicki,” Dad said softly. “I’m sorry, honey. I did think it would be okay.”
I folded my arms, biting my teeth together. It wasn’t supposed to be like this; I was supposed to see him from afar—supposed to prepare myself for talking to him. Nobody seemed to care about my trying to move forward. I went jogging today! Jogging! Wasn’t that enough? Dad had just single-handedly destroyed all the resolve I had to let David go. Well, I wasn’t going to stand by and let them conspiratorially send me to a mental institution. I could handle this. I’d dealt with worse.
“I’ll just see you there then.” David looked at me once then turned stiffly away.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t go. I said you should have checked with me first.”
David stopped.
“Okay, Ara.” Dad patted my arm. “I’ll remember that for next time.”
I took off, skulking along behind David, arms still folded, piercing his soul with eyes like daggers when he opened the car door for me. “I can get the door myself.”
“I’m sorry.” He took a step back. “I know you can. I was…”
I pushed past him and slumped into the passenger seat, shutting the door on whatever he was going to say.