Sidelined (Game On 3)

“That’s Freya,” I said, leaning against Jude for support. My vision swam at the sight of her, and Will’s parents getting out of the limo.

That was me once. Climbing out of the limo with my mom’s best friend while Mom’s casket waited in the church.

Every death is different. Death of a parent, death of a brother or sister, death of a husband, wife, boyfriend, girlfriend. The one thing they all have in common is the overwhelming agony at knowing you’ll never get to see your loved one again and my heart ached for my friend as she very slowly made her way towards the church; Will’s mom on one side of her, and his dad on the other.

“We should go inside,” Jude said, tightening his arm around me.

All around us, people started to file into the church and we joined the throng. Every step closer set my flight instincts into a higher gear. Jude must have felt my pulse quicken because he squeezed my hand, leaned down and whispered, “Just breathe. If you need to leave, we can leave.”

“No. We can’t. No matter how bad I feel, I’m staying. I can do this. Not just for Freya, but for you.”

Jude’s hand shook in mine. He gave me a grateful smile before looking over at Jesse who was on my other side. With my stupid, meaningless crush on him getting in the way I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him about Will. Just another way I’d failed. Jesse had been mostly alone since he couldn’t get around on his own to visit Freya, or any of his other friends. Watching him stare straight ahead, I wished I’d taken more time to talk to him. And it wasn’t just Will. In spite of what happened between them, Jesse had lost Taylor, too.

“Jesse?”

His attention snapped to me, and he shook his head like he’d been lost in thought.

“Did you hear anything more from Taylor’s mom?”

“Yeah. I meant to tell you later. Taylor’s funeral is next week.” He paused. “I’m gonna go. If you want to come with me, I’d appreciate it. If not, I understand. My mom said she’ll go with me if you don’t want to.”

Two funerals less than a week apart? One for someone I cared for, and one for someone who I used to care for. Someone who made several attempts to turn my life to shit. I wondered who else would be at her funeral aside from her family. She never mentioned having any other friends outside of Jesse and me. Sad. All her efforts went on destroying people, or trying to get close to them in the wrong ways. I glanced up at Jude, who shrugged.

“I don’t know, Jesse. Can I get back to you?”

“Sure you can. Do you still have Taylor’s journal?”

Oh God. What if her mom wants it back? I’d tossed the book so far, and into so many pieces.

“I kind of… drowned it.”

Jesse laughed, not loud, but it still caused a few heads to turn in his direction. His cheeks coloured for the second time that morning and he ducked his head to avoid the glares.

“Sorry,” I whispered. “Didn’t mean to get you into trouble. Did you want to read the journal?”

“Not even a little bit. I just wondered what you’d done with it. I’m glad it’s gone.”

Our first steps into the church quietened us. Now everything really was silent apart from the shuffling of footsteps across the dusty wooden floor.

I intended to keep my promise to stay but my first glimpse of the casket tested me. Will was inside that box… Will. In movies, when someone dies, sometimes a scene plays out in slow motion showing all the memorable moments of the person who’s gone. I saw Will’s highlight reel play out in front of me, brightening up the darkness of all the black-clad people in front of me. I saw him the first time we met, looking at me as if he wasn’t sure if I belonged on this planet. I saw him during training, laughing with Jude and Miguel. I saw him goofing off with Freya one night at a club, and having a serious conversation with Leah in London. I saw him and Freya dancing together at my birthday party, then unpacking his things when he moved into her apartment. That last memory was such a short time ago and now he’d gone. One storm put an end to his life.

And the last thing I ever said to him was ‘Go to hell.’ My stomach clenched, making me feel sick. More than anything I’d done in my whole life, I regretted those words. I never got a chance to apologise and explain I didn’t mean any of the horrid things I said that day. I’d relived it over and over, thinking of the things I should have said instead of bitching him out. No amount of thoughts could change the facts.

I forced myself to look away from the casket and my eyes immediately found Leah and Radleigh. They must have entered the church way before everyone else. They sat in the third row from the front, on the right, and Radleigh had his arms wrapped tightly around Leah, her head nestled against his neck. I tugged lightly on Jude’s hand and gestured in their direction. That was where I needed to be. If I couldn’t be with Freya, I had to be close to Leah.

It took a while, but we eventually reached them. I slid in beside Leah, Jude beside me, and Jesse at the end of the row. Leah unwound herself from Radleigh, and one look at her swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks sent me over the edge. I bundled her into my arms.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she choked o

ut in as low a voice as she could manage.

We all have our reasons to run from this, I guess.

“You can,” I whispered. “We can do this together.”

Jude shifted closer to me, and Radleigh did the same beside Leah. The closeness blocked out a tiny bit of the pain, but only for a moment. Everyone stood as Will’s family and Freya entered the church. They all had their heads bowed, occasionally looking up to cast grateful yet sad smiles at the people who’d come to the funeral.

My eyes fixated on Freya. I’d seen her every day since the accident but she suddenly looked frail and drawn. Her skin was paper white, dusted with some light blush to hide the paleness, but there was no disguising the dark circles under her eyes. Her arm was linked with Will’s mom’s, the two of them holding each other up. Will’s dad stood tall, a tower of strength beside the two women who loved Will more than anything in the world. His head held high, but he had the same expression of agony etched into his face.