Kian drove us to the cemetery. God knows what my dad and I would’ve done without him. Taking a taxi seemed disrespectful; so did public transportation. An hour later, there were more words, more prayers, and a handful of dirt raining down. She’s really gone. Someone put a flower in my hand and I pitched it into the grave. I stumbled on the green carpet, meant to look like grass so the gaping hole didn’t hit so hard.
People said, “It was a lovely service,” as they filed past.
I nodded but I didn’t see them. They all wore the bag man’s face. Dad and I stayed until everyone had gone. Mom’s headstone was in place, but nothing was carved on it. That seemed so very wrong.
“We should go,” Dad said finally. “We can come back after the engraving’s done. Leave some flowers for her.”
“She hated cut flowers,” I muttered.
It was true. I remembered her saying it was cruel to snip and put them in vases, laying waste to their beauty. Better to let them bloom and die, as they’re supposed to. Did that mean my mom believed in fate? I wished I had told her about the bargain, about my place in the timeline, but I had been ashamed of my weakness, boiling with guilt. Now it was too late. Repeatedly, I reminded myself that she was a scientist, and if I’d spilled everything, she wouldn’t have been on guard; she would’ve put me in a mental ward, so I’d be locked up and she’d still be gone.
“What verse did you choose?” Kian asked.
My dad turned to him, probably grateful for the distraction, as we walked toward the car. “‘Our death is not an end if we can live on in our children.’”
My throat closed. I recognized the quote at once; I had been reading about Einstein obsessively since I was a little girl. The tears spilled over as Kian wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I squeezed my eyes shut until the urge to sob passed.
“That’s perfect,” I whispered. “She would l-love that.”
Dad couldn’t smile. He tried. The glint of his own tears shone through the lenses of his glasses. He took them off, polished them on the sleeve of his coat. “I don’t know what we’ll do without her. Everything … will break down.”
“Then we’ll fix it. I’ll learn.”
But she won’t teach me. All the moments we might’ve had together, they’re gone now.
“There’s a cleaning crew coming to … sort things out.” To scrub up her blood. Dad went on, “The police have released the apartment, but we can’t live there. I asked around, and we—I—have a colleague at the university who knows someone willing to sublet to us, half a mile from the old place. I know it’s not ideal, but—”
“No, that’s fine. Do we need to pack?”
“Mr. Lewis volunteered to help us. If Kian doesn’t mind, we can swing by for the boxes and…” Trailing off, it was clear he had no idea what to call the move. It wasn’t something either of us wanted.
“Get settled?” Kian offered.
I could’ve kissed him. “Do you mind?”
“Of course not. And I can get takeout if you’re hungry.”
Dad shook his head, but even though I didn’t want to eat, we both needed to. So I said, “That would be good.”
Nothing is. The sun shone on until sunset, swirls of purple on the skyline dotted with city lights. As I climbed out of the backseat in front of the brownstone, the wind whispered, I’m so sorry. Cameron’s voice, at my shoulder, made me whirl around, but I didn’t see him. There was only Mr. Lewis waiting on the stoop. My dad took Kian while I opened the trunk. We packed it with our clothes but not Mom’s, my dad’s research and various books that Mr. Lewis thought I might want. The rest would keep.
“What’s the address?” Kian asked.
In a husky voice, Dad told him and we pulled away from the curb, leaving my old life behind. The new building was red brick, sharp and featureless, with uniform lines and no window boxes full of autumn flowers. Though I wasn’t sure, I thought it might be December now. During the days prior to my mom’s funeral, I lost track of how often I ate and slept, though mostly the latter.
This unit was on the first floor toward the back. We had a nice fenced patio and two bedrooms, decorated in classic rental unit. So much beige and brown. The pictures on the wall looked like abstract poop. Kian helped us unload the car, then he dodged out to grab some food and brought back stir-fry noodles. Like the other two, I ate in silence. There were no words for any of this.
“I have some work to do,” my dad said eventually. “Feel free to stay as long as you like.” The last, to Kian.
I guessed he trusted him now. So did I. At any point, he could’ve bailed on us, left me to deal with the fallout on my own. Coping would’ve been much harder without him to smooth the rough spots, do what I couldn’t. If not for him, my dad might’ve starved.
“All right. Thank you, sir.”
Dad shook his head. “Thank you.”
Then he went to the smaller of the two bedrooms and closed the door with a click. At first, I didn’t understand why I was getting the master suite until I realized it had a huge bed. He doesn’t want to sleep alone in that. I wished I had the kind of relationship with my father where I could run to him and hug him so hard it hurt his ribs and my arms, but we were stiff with each other, like strangers.
Kian and I watched a documentary about bees on cable, but around nine, he pushed to his feet. “I don’t want to go, but I feel like I should.”
“It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” That was a colossal lie, but I had to stand on my own two feet. I’d leaned on him enough over the past couple of weeks.
“Are you going to school tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I don’t want spend the day here alone. If I know my dad, he’ll retreat to the lab, so he can focus on work.”
“Maybe that’s not a bad thing.”
It can be if you neglect all other aspects of your life. Worried my dad might overhear, as the walls weren’t exactly thick, I didn’t say so aloud. Instead I walked Kian to the door and stretched up to kiss him. My heart wasn’t in it, but he didn’t seem to take it personally. He brushed his lips over my forehead in response.
“If you need anything, text me. I’ll be here in two seconds. And I do mean anything, Edie.” His tone was so serious, so earnest, that I actually smiled.
My face didn’t crack. My heart did a little, and sweetness spilled out. I no longer had any hope of resisting or protecting myself from future harm. He was the only star in my firmament, shining in darkest night, so I could always find the path.