When a Bird Flies

Chapter 12

Blake and I stay by dad's side for three days straight, taking turns getting our meals or going to the bathroom. Part of me desperately wants to call Addison, just to let him know where I am in case he shows up at my flat and I'm not there, but I don't. Dad's eyes never flinch and his heart never accelerates or slows down--he stays in one constant place the entire time. Until the day everything just stops. It happens at about twelve o'clock in the morning, when Blake and I are asleep in our uncomfortable chairs next to the bed. The constant rhythm of the heart monitor has turned into our lullaby over the past few days, and when I suddenly hear the beeping turn into a nonstop ringing, I wake immediately and run to get the doctor. A couple nurses rush in with a heart defibrillator, and neither Blake nor I can watch as they try desperately to revive him. After 5 tries, they stop. I stare dumbfoundedly at dad's inanimate body as Blake hysterically argues that there has to be some way to bring him back. The doctor makes it clear that there's nothing he can do, and that he's so sorry for our loss. Everything around me moves in slow-motion.

In the morning, we go home--or at least what used to be home. The house is silent when we step inside, and stays silent until it's time for dinner. We sit in our regular seats as we eat and never look at the empty chair at the head of the table. Just as I'm about to stand and take my plate to the kitchen, Blake breaks the silence.

"Hey, um... tell me about London," she says with a half-hearted smile. I know it's taking a lot of effort for her to start a normal conversation right now, so I go along with it, talking to her about work and mentioning Addison here and there but not going into anything specific. She doesn't ask if there's anything going on between us, probably because she knows that now is not the time for boy-talk. All too soon, the conversation is over and I wash the dishes while she dries them.

That night, I lay awake in bed, tossing and turning until 2:00am. Just as I start to fall asleep, I feel the mattress shift slightly and look over to find Blake getting under the covers. She lies on her side, facing away from me. The room is silent for a moment, but I feel her shift onto her back and I know she's about to speak.

"Thea?" She whispers.

"Yeah?"

"Remember when we used to have sandcastle competitions?"

"Yeah," I smile, "you always won."

"Did not."

"Did so. My castles sucked." I turn to face her, noticing how visible her nostalgic grin is in the darkness.

"I cheated, though. I used the castle-shaped buckets. You used your imagination," she chuckles.

"I'm pretty sure the castle in my imagination didn't look like a misshapen igloo," I laugh. She laughs too, and I can feel the mood lighten just a touch.

"Hey, I just want to say... I'm glad you're having a good time in London. I mean, every bird's got to leave the nest sometime and I know this was a big leap for you... Dad was really proud of you for it, you know. And I am, too."  

It takes me a moment to reply, and all I can utter is "I know."

    I have never been to a funeral before. I could only imagine what one would be like from seeing them in movies and tv shows. But the day of dad's funeral is not like the movies--for the most part. Yes, everyone's wearing black and shedding tears and too many people are saying how sorry they are for our loss. But the melancholy music isn't there, or the melodramatic sobs from Blake or me that would cause a big scene. I think we are all cried out at this point, and all I can feel is a jumble of so many different emotions that it translates into numbness. Even our grandparents are silent and still, grieving in the only way this family knows how. I think about the rule we have always had, that Goodbye is not allowed. No matter how far away we are, we don't say it, and I won't say it now.

    I stay with Blake in Sausalito for two days. We don't do much, but being together is what we need right now. I don't think I'll ever get used to how quiet the house is now. Dad never even made much noise, but his presence alone made the house feel like a family of six lived in it. Now there's only two, and it's not right. The day before I have to go back to London, Blake tells me that she's going to get an apartment in the city. She says that she can't live here alone, and that she should've left the nest long ago.

    "What will we do with the house?" I ask.

    "Grandma and grandpa agreed to stay here. You know how much they've been wanting to move out of their house, and this way we don't have to sell this one."

"I guess," is all I can say.

Blake drops me off at the airport, our see-you-later hug lasting almost two minutes. I try to sleep on the plane but can't--my mind won't stop racing. My thoughts shift from dad to Blake moving out of our house to whether or not Addison will even know I've been away. I haven't gotten any calls from him, so I assume that he must think I still want space. But I really don't want space, not anymore. No matter what happened between us, he's my only true friend in London and I need him. As soon as I land, I take a taxi to his flat. It takes me a little while to remember exactly where it is, but I know it's really close to the bakery, so I tell the driver to go there. The sun has completely set by now, the lanterns casting a golden glow on the street as I spot his dark-green front door. I knock a few times, and after a moment he opens the door. His eyes widen.

"Bloody hell," he says almost under his breath before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around me. I'm surprised by his actions, but I still hug him tighter than I ever have before. 

"I thought you wanted nothing to do with me anymore and left town," he says, resting his chin on my shoulder, "I tried to call but the line kept cutting off, and Alice didn't know where you were and you weren't at your flat and... God, Thea, where have you been?" He lets go and walks back into his flat. I follow and close the front door behind me.

"I know, I should've called," I reply, "I had to go back home for awhile."

"Is everything okay?" he asks. I shake my head in response.

"Come on, I'll make you some tea," he says, taking my hand and leading me into the kitchen. He doesn't have a dining table, so I stand in the middle of the room while he puts a kettle on the stove and turns the heat on. With both of our teas in his hands, he leads me to his bedroom, which is surprisingly larger than any other room in his flat. His bed sits against the back wall and a couch is positioned on the right side of the room. There are stacks and stacks of books beside the couch, along with a few CD's. Once we sit on the couch and he hands me my tea, I spill my guts. I tell him everything, from the minute I got Blake's call to the plane ride back here. I even tell him about the night my mom left and why I build up walls and why it's so hard for me to let myself truly care about someone. He's the first person to ever hear any of this, and I'm sure he knows that. He listens so attentively, soaking up every word like a sponge. During the story, images of how dad looked in the hospital bed and how hysterical Blake was and how the doctor said there was nothing he could do enter my mind, and I start to break down again. Addison puts his tea down and scoots closer, hesitantly putting his arms around me. He lets me to cry into his chest, spotting his tee shirt with my salty tears. Even though I thought I was all cried out, somehow the tears keep coming. I listen to the rain start to fall outside, and I jump when thunder shakes the room.

"Shh, you're safe. I'm here," Addison whispers, and it makes me calm again. After a while, my puffy, teary eyes become extremely heavy. I'm barely half awake when I feel him scoop me up into his arms, walking over to his bed and laying me down gently. He puts the covers over me and I lay on my side, snuggling deep into the warm blankets. He moves around to the other side of the bed, leaving plenty of room between us when he lies down. I choose to ignore the part of me that desperately wants him closer. Just before I completely drift off, he shifts onto his side and lightly rests his hand on my waist. A surprising wave of peace and warmth runs through me, and I don't dare move away.