***
I stare out of a window while people talk mostly to my father and give him their condolences. I’ve never felt especially close to either of my parents, but damn it, I really want my mom right now. We fought over so many stupid things, said hurtful things, and now she’s dead. We never got the chance to find that happy medium in our relationship that so many mothers and daughters eventually find when they have a rough start.
The guilt from our last conversation overwhelms me more by the second. Can’t do much about it now.
“Hey.”
I whirl around at the sound of Brayden’s voice. Finally! I was starting to think he wouldn’t show. He’s late as it is. “Hey. Thanks for coming.” My arms are around his waist and my head against his chest before I can stop myself. He’s very stiff; is he uncomfortable being here?
“Of course. Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s fine. It should be about time for them to shoo people out and move her into the car, I think.”
His hands rub my back. “How are you doing?”
“Terrible because people won’t stop asking me that.”
“It’ll be over soon.”
That’s not really reassuring, but Brayden himself is. I allow myself to lean on him, to let Brayden be my rock today, just as he’s been the past few days. He rides with me to the cemetery. He stands by my side, holds my hand, and I lean into him while Mom’s preacher sings her praises. No more tears fall. Maybe I’m finally cried out.
Afterward, everyone heads to my father’s house to eat. While I would love for Brayden to come with me, I don’t feel comfortable asking him. As he watches everyone walk to their cars, speaking softly about heading to my father’s house, he’s still tense, probably hoping I won’t ask him to come with.
“Just take me back to the funeral home, so we can go our separate ways.”
He nods, his shoulders immediately relaxing. “Yeah, sure thing, darlin’.”
The drive back is silent. I wonder how pissed my father would be if I don’t show up. A nice, strong drink sounds nice. Brayden parks next to my car and I unbuckle my seatbelt.
“Maybe I’ll see you later,” I say.
“Text me if you need me, okay?”
I don’t like the idea of needing him, but the past few days have proved that I have. I also haven’t minded too much. Although, having him be there for me through this confuses me. How can I keep him at arms’ length if he’s holding me together? How can I ignore his strength and how good he’s been to me?
“Deanna?”
Snapping out of my thoughts, I glance over at him. “I will. Thanks again.” I hurry out of his car and to mine. After a quick trip home, I change and call a cab to take me to the bar. The plan is to eventually get drunk, so I won’t be driving home. I text Rose to meet me, but ultimately, I don’t care if she shows or not.
The bar is rather empty, save for about five other people. At least this means I get to pick practically any seat I want. One drink and thirty minutes later, Rose shows up.
“You seriously cannot be drinking this early in the day.”
“It’s not that early,” I argue.
“Early enough.”
“You weren’t supposed to come and bitch at me.”
She frowns as she orders her own drink. “Fine. Anything you want to talk about?” One glance at me and she asks, “Brayden or your mom?”
“What makes you think I’d want to talk about Brayden on the day of my mom’s funeral?”
“Because he’s supposed to be a fuck buddy and he went with you. I’m your best friend and I was there, but you were glued to his side the entire time.”
“I don’t want to talk at all,” I suddenly decide, waving the bartender over to order another drink.
“Yes, you do. How are things with Zane?”