Numbness was the closest companion that got me through the twenty minute procession and thirty minute Committal. I felt completely detached emotionally, like I watched myself go through the motions. Mom and Jake seemed like they internalized their own final thoughts and our limo ride from the church to the burial site at St. Johns Cemetery in San Mateo was both silent and surreal.
The sight of Dad's casket lowered down to a double depth, the cool metal of the shovel's handle in my palm as I tossed a pathetically small pile of loose, grayish-brown soil on top, and the murmured rounds of the Lord's Prayer and 'Amazing Grace' swirled around me like an out of body experience. I wasn't sure what his gravestone read because my eyes couldn't look higher than the ground.
One by one, the attendees paid their respects and retreated to their vehicles until only Mom, Jake, Logan, and I remained. Logan remained stoic at my side, his hand tightly wrapped around mine while I silently watched as the relationship dynamics played out in front of us. Jake and I had lost a father but Mom her husband and best friend, Uncle Darren his only brother, and Dad's car dealership coworkers and boss their friend and employee who wouldn't report to work on Monday.
While respects were given with silent or softly murmured words and a toss of soil into the gravesite, Mom squeezed her arms around Jake. After a few moments where she sobbed uncontrollably while tears leaked out Jake's eyes, she nodded, buried her head in his shoulder, and he steered her towards the exit.
My feet however, refused to budge even after the gravediggers had completed the burial. Throughout today's entire service, I'd been led, nudged, or gently prodded but now that I was left alone for the first time under my own control, I was frozen.
"Ellie." Logan's hand squeezed around mine and gently squeezed it. The late afternoon sun warmed my damp cheeks and a soft breeze blew my hair into my eyes. With his other hand, Logan swept them aside and gazed down at me. "We can stay as long as you like."
"I never apologized," I confessed in a soft whisper, my eyes transfixed down at the freshly piled dirt mound near Dad's headstone.
"He's probably listening now," Logan spoke in a quiet, somber voice that matched the tenderness in his gaze. "Do you want to give me a few moments?"
"Please." I watched as he honored my request, stepped halfway over to the cars, and waited with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
With a slow, raspy breath, tears trailed over my cheeks before my knees sank into the trodden grass near Dad's final resting place. "D-dad," I stared as a knot of guilt twisted hard in my chest and weakened my stomach. "I'm s-s-so s-sorry. I didn't mean what I said and... I-I-I'd give anything to take it back."
My chin tipped downwards, I leaned forwards in my knelt position, and tears dripped onto my hands clasped between my legs. After a few silent moments where my ragged gasps filled the air between me and Dad's rested body, I reached out a shaky hand and clasped a handful of fresh earth.
The smell of the loose soil tingled the inside of my nose as I brought my closed fist up near my mouth. I breathed out one last, "I'm sorry," over my tightly clenched knuckles and tossed the handful onto the pile.
"I'm sorry Ellie... So sorry for your loss."
"Thank you." My chin stuck into my chest and I murmured hallowed thanks over and over on auto repeat from the expansive front foyer space in my Uncle Anthony and Aunt Maria's Palo Alto mansion. I plastered my best fake smile but one of my replies felt genuine because of the emptiness I felt inside.
Logan's large presence was nearly always by my side, a warm hand on my shoulder, waist, or lower back through the wake that followed the burial. My fogged over brain barely registered even his touch or reassurance, or another set of warm, strong hands that clasped onto my shoulders.
"Aww, honey, there's no words," Grace hands lowered, squeezed my upper arms tightly, then pulled me into her chest, where the air pressed out of my lungs. For once I hadn't minded the sense of physical suffocation that came with a Grace hug, since it mirrored how I felt inside.
Because if I feel anything then it's guilt from being the worst daughter in the world.
Logan and I both took a definite interest when his Mom sat near Mr. Reynolds for the buffet-like meal Aunt Maria had prepared and chatted animatedly with him. "I told her it was okay but..." He absently scratched at his chin. "Stubbornly she said no."
"Maybe they need some encouragement." I nudged Logan with my elbow, then stopped when Brody sat down on Grace's other side and Harper next to her Dad. The entire table laughed at Brody's two plates, piled impossibly high with appetizers and finger foods that I would've spilled onto the table with one fork poke.
I approached their table but right before I took the seat next to Harper, Jake slipped in between and plopped himself down at her side. She frowned for a moment, then leaned back in her chair and whispered a few words into his ear. Her sky-blue eyes met mine and sparkled suggestively as she called out, "I can be nice for one day, sit down."
Logan and I pulled back the seats across from Grace and Mr. Reynolds, but a hand on my wrist stopped me and tugged me backwards. I turned and met Mom's dark brown eyes, weighed down and tired with the same sense of exhaustion that sagged my limbs.
"Can I have a word?" she asked in a low voice. I nodded silently, where she pulled me out of the kitchen, down a hallway, and into Uncle Anthony's office.
Wall to wall shelves of books towered around me and the dark furniture and lack of natural light made the room appear much smaller than it actually was. Mom closed the door behind her with a click, sighed with her back towards me, then turned around with one of her hands tucked into her black sweater's front pocket.
"I know there's never a good time but I want to talk to you about your letter to Dad," she started in a voice laced with the same uncertainty reflected in the way she looked at me.
"About the way you manipulated Logan into sharing it?" I lifted my eyebrows and crossed my arms over my chest. At this point, I knew my irritation was childish but it was the only emotion I had any energy left and slipped out.
"Yes... " Her head bowed down and she clenched her hand in her pocket. "Please don't be mad honey, I was desperate to pull my family back together."
"Ends don't justify the means Mom. Maybe you should've thought about that before manipulating my boyfriend, or forcing actions of me that drove a wedge between us my senior year of high school," I spat out bitterly because while most of the strife between me and my parents was with Dad, Mom's passive-aggressive manipulations weren't entirely innocent.
While I hadn't intended that I lashed out at Mom, the displaced emotions from today's events had definitely broken my filter. With my last ounce of restraint, I pulled my lower lip under and waited for her response.
"Oh Honey, no..." Mom cooed softly, ignored practically every word I'd said as expected, and stepped closer to me. "Your dad was many things, which includes being absolute shit with his emotions."
Redirection, typical.
"Convenient excuse." I scoffed and crossed my arms. The last thing I wanted was an argument with Mom but exhaustion combined with one of the most emotional days of my life was a recipe for uncontrolled responses from both of us.
"It's true," she insisted with another approached step. "I don't suppose any Dad is ready to give up his little girl but he never forgave himself for what happened to you. He feels - ahh, felt - that he failed you, that you felt that way too because you never told us. The fact you hadn't come to him when you were fourteen hurt him more than he admitted even to himself. And cutting us out deeply hurt both of us."
"It's not right." My eyes beaded up with tears. "Two years of tension and... pain, not listening to me, twisting things around so they weren't entirely true. I just couldn't take it anymore."
"With no resolution, in Dad's eyes you hadn't moved forwards," Mom offered in a quiet but firm voice. "We didn't see the steps you took, the changes you made. Obviously we were proud of you for doing well in school, working a job but day to day... time slipped past him. Both of us."
I had no answer for her explanation, which deep down inside I probably agreed with, so I only stood silently as she continued, "In his mind, Logan was the guy who matched you up again with Ryder and took you away. It's not right, definitely not fair, but that's what his mind filled in during the silence between you. Much easier to blame others than look in the mirror..."
"I know though Ellie." She brushed her fingers over my wet cheeks. "You're in a healthy, stable relationship with a young man who looks at you like you're the sun that his entire universe revolves around and him yours. You used to look at Dad like he was the most important man in your life and.. it just hurt him to see that."
Mom paused for a moment while her eyes studied mine like she braced for a reaction. "Was he an emotional baboon? Absolutely. But from a distance, you went from a two-year absence with Logan to living together and falling in love, so Dad had a bit of a mental meltdown."
Anger slipped in between my tears as I studied her calm, passive expression.
Always defending him.
"I know you've been dealt harsher things in life to deal that you deserve," her own voice grew husky. "But Dad always wanted you to be happy. Seeing it with Logan was bittersweet. He saw it from the sidelines, he just didn't deal with it in the right way."
"Right," I mumbled quietly and tipped my head down since none of this conversation quelled the sense of guilt inside me. "And I was horrible in return."
"Well, he deserved it." My snapped up at what felt like the first time she hadn't blindly defended Dad's irrational behavior. "He and I had a long talk on the way home after our weekend visit and for several days afterwards. He thought you wanted space but we were going to have a sit-down after your final exams, with Dr. Sterns if you'd thought that a mediator would've helped, but..."
"He... What!?" My jaw dropped at that news because, same page aside, the words 'Dad' and 'therapist' weren't even in the same book.
"Your letter, Ellie." Mom paused, swallowed hard, and withdrew a folded over piece of paper from her pocket. "I showed it to him and... He did write you one back. I told him to and wasn't sure he had but his supervisor found this in his desk at work."
My mouth dried while my eyes narrowed at the paper in her hand, because part of me still distrusted Mom. Her hand extended towards me and shook the paper a few times until I took it from her and unrolled the paper with soft crinkles between my trembling fingers. Sure enough, Dad's messy handwriting stared up at me.
Dear Ellie,
We both know I'm shit at emotions and even worse admitting when I'm wrong.
I deserve everything you told me. I've let you down so many times, when you were fourteen and couldn't trust me with the truth, the awful way I reacted when you finally told me years later, and the way I refused to accept someone you had feelings for.
At the minimum, a father should provide for and protect his children. I never kept you safe and that's my biggest regret in my life. The things that I can't control bother me, most of all the time that's slipped away and the space that's grown between us.
It hurts to let you go, follow your own path, and see you look at any other man other than me. You'll always be my little girl and no matter what, I'll be with you on your wedding day, probably crying my eyes out and pretending the tears are for the bill.
Hope we can work this out someday.
Love, Dad
"I'll just..." Mom murmured softly at the silence that filled the room once the note slipped down to my side and my eyes closed under a fresh round of tears. "Give you a few moments."
With shaky knees, I sank down onto Uncle Anthony's tufted leather sofa, which groaned quietly under my weight. My mind swirled with a storm of emotions, none of which I capably disentangled.
Dad... knew?
Selfishly, relief at the idea my apology had reached Dad rushed up to the pile of emotions and slightly subdued my stomach-sized welt of guilt. The patterned carpet over the hardwood floors blurred in and out of my rounds of fresh tears.
A soft knock on the door drew my strained eyes upwards and Logan's handsome face poked inside. "Ellie?" he called out before his eyes softened on where I sat. "Your mom said you were in here, can I come in?"
"Please," I mouthed the word, then nodded since I wasn't sure he'd heard me.
"Ellie..." Logan closed the gap between us, sat down, and wrapped his arms around me. My eyes, raw and itchy from the countless tears I'd cried in the past twenty-four hours, slid closed as I leaned into his chest and sagged under his arm's embrace.
"Thank you..." I whispered over and over until my parched throat only mouthed the words. Thankfully, Logan offered no words, no corrections, only silent support. And, at that moment, I couldn't have loved him more for it.
After I pushed away my plate of cold, untouched food, Grace flopped down at the empty kitchen chair across from me. Her eyes, the same ocean-blue as Logan's, glinted like sunlight on the Pacific's waves while she cupped her chin in one palm and looked between me and her son.
"Mom..." Logan started with wariness in his voice.
"So... Gianna and I were thinking," she started, when Mom herself took the seat next to her and glanced between me, Logan, Harper, and Jake. After Logan and I rejoined the wake, the four of us had moved to a corner table in Aunt Maria's kitchen, where we'd sat in a melancholy silence and blankly stared at the table between us.
"We were." Mom flashed what looked like a genuine smile mixed with a conspiracy collaboration. "The four of you have a strained relationship dynamic."
"Ellie and I are cool," Jake offered in a flat, uninterested voice while Logan just shot me raised eyebrows.
"Well, if this weekend has taught me anything." Mom narrowed her eyes in response at Jake. "It's that time is too short to waste with grudges or restrictions on relationships."
Where is she going with this?
Harper narrowed her eyes and shared my suspicions, "Not to be rude, but I'm not in the quarterback-sister triangle shit. Is there a point here?"
"You're affected too," was all Grace chimed in with the same knowing look in her eyes.
"We think, given the stress of everything, the four of you should take a small vacation," Mom offered. "I certainly won't be using the timeshare this year, probably going to sell it off but before I do that, I want you kids to go on a winter or spring break trip."
What now?
"I am not spending spring break with these meatheads doing keg stands in Mexico," Harper deadpanned and gave me a strained look like she was being punished.
"Winter then, surely you all can find a few days that overlap?" Grace offered. "Gianna, David, and I have pooled together some money that should cover your plane tickets and Gianna has a potential location covered."
"And what's your angle in this forced relationship conspiracy?" Harper frowned up at her Dad, who now stood behind Grace's chair and rested one of his hands on her shoulders. My heart melted at the way his thumb stroked near the nape of her neck in a subtle but sweet gesture.
"Call it a guilt trip," Mr. Reynolds replied in a quiet, even tone and shifted his soft brown gaze from Harper to me. All of the lightness in his expression and voice were gone when he asked, "May I have a few words with you Eleanor?
"Sure." I pushed my chair back, stood up, and pathetically offered to Mom and Grace, "Trip or no trip, my vote is I don't care, whatever everyone else decides."
I followed Mr. Reynolds out of the kitchen, where he paused in the hallway and leaned one of his shoulders between two of Aunt Maria's golden gilded frames on the walls. His eye gaze deepened as his hand slipped into his black suit's pocket and revealed a piece of paper folded up in thirds.
"I'm so sorry to deliver this to you now, of all days," his voice sounded soaked with regret. "But your Mom told me you're going back to Seattle tonight.."
My heart thundered a rapid beat in my veins as I opened up the letter. An unfamiliar seal was stamped at the top of an administrative form but the sight of the Santa Cruz Superior Court put an unsettled sensation in my stomach. A chill ran through me when I echoed the words, "You are ordered to appear in person to testify as a witness in this action..." with my full name and a mid-January date auto-filled in.
"You've been subpoenaed by the state of California's prosecutor in their case against Ryder," Mr. Reynolds filled me in with absolutely no joy in his voice. If anything he sounded like he felt sorry for me, especially when he added, "There's more, unfortunately."
"How can it get any worse?" I asked dryly.
"The Stevens have... requested a meeting between you and Ryder," he explained as a hardened look came over his eyes. "You have the right to refuse it, but -"
"Why!?" I practically screeched out the word then clamped one hand over my mouth. With a much quieter voice, I asked again, "Why would he meet me?"
"To apologize, apparently," Mr. Reynolds answered, although the look he gave me matched his next words, "Although I suspect it's all for show prior to the court date."
"I can refuse?" I murmured as my eyes roamed over the form again, then lifted and caught Mr. Reynold's silent nod. A hardness clenched in my gut and as much as I wanted conviction, anger, and resolution led my response, I only felt drained and tired.
"Then tell him I'll see him in court."