But I follow him out of the car. There are chairs. There’s a priest. He waits for all of us to sit and starts talking. He talks and talks, words, and words, and more fucking words, washing over me like soap bubbles, pretty, light and just as empty, bursting into nothing.
I’m not alone, I tell myself as they lower the casket into the earth. I’m not. I have my friends. I have the kids. I have Matt. He said we’ll always be a family, ever since he started dating Emma.
I glance at him. He’s, what, twenty-six? But he looks old, emaciated and bent, his mouth thin.
One by one the people get up to leave. I stay seated. Don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Where I’m supposed to go. Nothing makes sense.
“Zane.” Matt is suddenly in front of me. I blink. “Come home with us. You need to sleep. I don’t think you slept at all last night.”
Maybe that’s what I should do. Besides, I can’t think, so I might as well follow his lead.
“Your friends know what happened?” Matt shoots me a glance as we walk toward the cars.
I don’t answer. I don’t understand what happened myself. I slow down, look back at the fresh mount of earth over the grave. Why am I leaving already? I can’t leave Emma here alone.
“Zane.” Matt grips my wrist and jerks me back around. “Snap out of it.” He sighs. “Listen, man. I have to tell you something. I decided to take the kids and move closer to my parents. They need all the love they can get right now, and they need someone to take care of them.”
“What?” I rub a hand over my face. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s not too far. They live in Missouri. You can come
visit sometimes.”
“Where are the kids?” I turn in a circle. Everyone’s gone.
“My mom took them home. I couldn’t—”
“You can’t take them away.” I’m wheezing. “You fucking can’t. They’re Emma’s kids. You have no right.”
“Dammit, they’re my kids, too, man. I have every right.” His hands ball into fists. “You think I’m not grieving Emma, too? She was my wife! But I have to think of the kids first, their needs, their wellbeing. Put yourself in my place, and tell me you—”
“Fuck you.” I spin on my heel and head toward my truck.
“Zane, wait.”
What for? There’s nothing left for me here. Matt is fucking leaving, with the kids. I think of little Mary and her baby brother, Cole. How we kept each other company almost every weekend for more than half a year now. How Mary would sit next to me on the sofa, so I could read her stories. How Cole would fall asleep as I sang AC/DC songs—softly, as a lullaby. They are my family.
They’re gone.
It’s all gone, and I need to leave before I lose my last shred of sanity. Was this what Matt had meant all those weeks ago—when he asked if someone had my back?
My friends. Dakota. They’re all I have left now. I need to get back to them before I forget why the hell I’m still alive.
***
I somehow make it back to Madison without killing myself or anyone else. It’s nothing short of a miracle, because I barely remember the route and can’t even tell how fast I drove. Weird snatches of memory, like images from a dream, inform me that I stopped at some point and peed by the side of the highway. I also stopped at a liquor shop, flashed my fake ID and bought two bottles of whiskey. It has to be real because, as I park at the front of my building, I see them in a brown paper bag at my feet.
Why the hell did I buy them? I’m thirsty, but my stomach churns, making me wanna puke. I’m sweating, and I’m cold, and it all seems surreal—a man crossing the street with his dog, the cars rolling by, the skyline. The colors are muted. The world has turned black and white.
Strange.
I grab the bag, open the door, and half-climb half-fall out of the truck. Dakota must be home. It’s just after noon. But when I ring the buzzer, nobody replies. Where can she be?
Fumbling with my key, I almost drop the bag twice. I’m okay. I can do this.
Why shouldn’t I be able to? A dark mist gathers in my mind. Something… something bad happened.
Emma.