I don't remember much of the rest of that day. Stanton woke up Lisa, who ran over to check vitals to be sure. I stood there and watched. Stanton called next door, and before long, everyone was over here. There was so much commotion, but it all sounded almost muted. I knew this was coming; we all knew. I keep trying to remember what my last words were exactly. What were his? I remember Lisa walking me into the kitchen with my coffee. So many hugs and tears, but I don't remember actually crying. I stayed in that kitchen for quite some time; I think someone tried to coax me into going home. I couldn't leave though. I walked out onto the patio at some point, and I fell asleep on the loveseat out there. The next morning, Pawpaw's house was bustling with activity. I did what was asked of me when it was asked of me, but never more. I don't think I even spoke a word, unless it was a part of one of my assigned tasks. I was like that for the following days as well.
Today is the funeral. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, and I notice the bruises are mostly a greenish-yellow on my neck. I'm still wrapped in my towel from the shower. I'm so numb. It finally truly happened again. Only, this time, I don't want to be numb; it feels disrespectful to Pawpaw somehow. I put on my makeup, wondering if I'll cry at the service. We're holding the wake after the funeral in Pawpaw's house. I wonder how full the house will be. I don't think I've eaten in a day or so. Maybe I'll have an appetite again once this is all over. I hear someone knocking on my door, so I go to answer it.
"Oh, um," Derrick quickly moves through the doorway and shuts the door behind him. "We've got to stop meeting like this." I look at him with what I'm sure is a look of sheer confusion. He clears his throat before explaining, "the towel." I look down as if needing the clarification.
"Sorry," I say hoarsely. "I'm still getting ready."
"I just wanted to see if you needed anything. You've been, um," he pauses trying to find that right word, I assume to not offend me.
"I'm okay," I decide to just save him. "I do need to finish getting ready as I'm heading over early with Mom to make sure everything is set up correctly." I pull the black dress from my closet and retreat into the bathroom. I still need to finish my makeup and fix my hair, which means I don't need Derrick, or anyone else's, distractions.
"Okay, well if you need anything, you know where to find me," Derrick calls from my room. I don't respond. I've wasted so much of my time back on him and Ray, and now I've lost the opportunity for any more time with Pawpaw. I hear my door open and click close again. I know it's not all their fault; I allowed myself to get swept up in the drama and the emotions of our pasts. No more though. Not today especially. I move through the motions of getting dressed and finishing my face and hair.
Before long, Mom and I are at the funeral home. We look around and adjust flowers and programs. The casket is open in the back room so people can say their goodbyes. Mom and I walk back there to see how he looks. We both exchange looks noticing a couple of things right away.
"Where are his glasses? And who combed his hair like that?" We both look around as if expecting someone to step over and have an excuse or answer to our questions. "I'll step out and call the house to have someone bring a spare of his over." Mom steps outside, and I stand alone looking down at Pawpaw in his casket. I feel the tears welling up for the first time.
"I'm so sorry Pawpaw. I should have been a better granddaughter. More present, more honest, more everything because you deserved that." I choke on my last words before trying to swallow the sob that threatens to be released. I reach down to touch his cheek, but recoil my hand before I have the chance. I take a breath and reach in to fix his hair instead. "Some bastard thought they had a better style sense than you Pawpaw, but we'll show 'em."
"Ray is grabbing the pair on his desk and bringing them over soon," Mom informs as she walks back over. "Oh, you fixed his hair," Mom states with a tone of shock.
"Yeah, I couldn't stand looking at the mess they made of it." I answer nonchalantly. Mom doesn't answer, but simply puts her arm around me as we stand there looking down at Pawpaw.
Soon, the funeral hall fills with people. Many family, a few of his friends that I recognize, and many faces I don't remember having seen before. I walk around with a glass of white wine, politely saying hello and listening to condolences. After a while, I retire to a corner where a slideshow is playing to some soft music. I watch pictures of Pawpaw's life flash by on the screen, and then watch them all over again. By the fifth time, I notice that guests are being ushered into the other room for the service. I follow, trying to find my parents or siblings in the fray.
"Laney, over here!" I glance around the room before my eyes land on Hope jumping and waving to get my attention. I smile and maneuver my way through the crowd.
"Well, hey everybody!" I call down the row of seats. Hope and Stanton are right in the middle of the row with Mom and Dad on one end and Pawpaw and now myself on the other. We blow kisses to each other, except Pawpaw who pulls me into a big hug.
"I was getting afraid you'd miss the show," Pawpaw expresses as he takes a seat.
"I ran straight from class to make it over here," I smile and squeeze his arm.
"Good, although I hope this didn't take too much attention from your studies. I know you've just begun your first semester."
"It's taking the right amount of attention," I reassure as I pat his arm. "A girl needs a night out with her favorite grandfather now and again." He chuckles lightly, knowing I never knew my other grandfather at all. "Besides, I have to maintain my title of favorite grandchild as well!"
"Now, I never said anything about having favorites," Pawpaw puts his finger up, as if denying the fact.
"It's okay Pawpaw, I won't tell the rest of them. Although, Thomas said next year he is going to really start putting in the effort of fighting for the title, so I think they all already know." Pawpaw just shakes his head, throwing his hands up in surrender. We turn our attention to the stage as the lights dim and the curtain begins to open.
When I get into the room, I see them in the front row, with seat saved for me. I sit slowly, crossing my hands and my ankles. Father Dean stands at the front and leads us in an opening prayer. He goes on to talk about Pawpaw, and I can see him getting choked up. Father Dean was Pawpaw's favorite priest, which was evident from the lack of nickname Pawpaw had for him. Pawpaw had nicknames for all the priests that he found funny or a little annoying, like Father Froggy, who sang sounding like he had a whole fruit in his throat. It was especially funny because he would always turn his microphone up to be heard over the choir. Then there was Father Rudolph, named so because his nose was always so red that Pawpaw joked he could light up the church with just his nose. The list goes on, of course, but Father Dean was like an extension of our family. His homilies never felt forced or scripted, and going to confession with him always brought about a feeling of actual relief.
Father Dean calls Dad up, who begins to speak about growing up with a father like Pawpaw. I can tell he is really working at it to not break down. His words are moving, his anecdotes filled with just the right droplets of humor, and, at the end, he's brought quite a number of people to tears. Father Dean comes out to continue the service, and before long, it's time to go to the cemetery. I managed to only shed a couple of tears during the service, and I'm hoping to get through the rest of the day without letting any more spill. There are a bunch chairs out for the family, and we take our seats. Others stand nearby and behind us. More words and prayers are said, and we solemnly walk up and each place a single rose on the coffin. We sit back down and watch as Pawpaw is lowered into the ground. We all get up to leave, but I'm stopped by one Mom's friends along the way.
"Hey Harper.," She pauses with a look of deep thought, "I heard you were going by Harper now." I nod in response. "I like it. It's definitely more grown up."
"Thank you. And thank you for coming."
"Harper, your grandfather was a great man, and he loved you very much. He spoke of you fondly all the time." I don't know why now, and why it was her who made it happen, but at her words, I just begin to weep. Hope comes over to wipe the tears from my eyes.
"Someone forgot to wear waterproof mascara today," we all laugh at Hope's observation. We walk back to the caravan of cars, and I slide into Mom's.
"You ready?" Once again, I only nod. We drive back home, silently. Tears just run down my face, and I do nothing to try to stop them. We park in our driveway and continue in our silence over to Pawpaw's house. Only Ray and Lisa are there, making sure the place is clean and ready for the mass amounts of company about to be here.
"Ray, we didn't see you at the cemetery," Mom points out softly. Ray looks up, and I see a look I haven't seen in quite some time on his face.
"I'm sorry Kay. After the service, I came back here to get things started. I couldn't," he stops as his voice cracks. "He was a brilliant man." Mom nods and begins taking the saran wrap off various trays and setting them out. I go to help her, and pass by Ray, who silently hands me my favorite seasonal beer.
"Thank you, Ray," I say sincerely. No matter what has or hasn't happened between us, I know he truly did care about Pawpaw. He spent more time here growing up than his own home. Not that he had the troubles of Derrick, he just loved being here. Soon, the house begins to fill up with more people, and I try to find a place to retreat to. I never seem to have an empty drink in hand either as Ray and Lisa seem to keep up with my drinks. After a while, I find a quiet place in the yard to light up a cigarette. I sit behind a tree near the fence hoping no one will find me. I'm no longer crying, although I'm sure there's plenty of mascara streams under my eyes. Not two seconds after I light up, Dad pops his head around my hiding spot.
"Can an old man possibly bum one or two of those today?" I smile up at him, and pat on the grass next to me. He takes a seat and a cigarette. We sit there in silence through the first cigarette, enjoying this semi-peaceful moment. We both light up a second one, and I decide to break our silence.
"Dad?" He turns and looks at me with a smile. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"Back at ya kiddo," he nudges me with his shoulder. "How much have you had to drink?" He asks as he gestures toward my beer.
"I'm not entirely sure to be perfectly honest. You?"
"Not enough," he answers letting out a puff of smoke. We both just smile and shake our heads. "Harper," he begins again, only with a more serious tone, "there's something I need to talk with you about. It doesn't have to be today, but ideally before you go traipsing off to another country again would be nice." The way he says this stings a little, but I do deserve it.
"You want to talk about it now?" I offer somewhat reluctantly.
"No, but I will give you a hint about what it's about so you don't stress too much about it," with that, he hands me an envelope. Immediately, my stomach drops. I would recognize this particular envelope anywhere.
"Where did you-"
"It doesn't matter," he cuts me off letting out another puff of smoke. "What does matter is that we talk about this soon." He raises his eyebrows indicating the seriousness of his tone. I open my mouth as if to say something, but what could I say? We finish our cigarettes in silence. Dad sighs before standing back up. "Time for another drink, and maybe some food." He pats his stomach; he's eaten about as much as me this week.
"I'll be right in," I say with a half-smile. He returns my smile before turning reluctantly back toward the house. I sit there sipping on my beer, debating whether I should light up a third cigarette or not. I'm running extremely low. Maybe I could leave and walk to the gas station to pick up some more.
"Hey," Derrick finds my hiding spot, looking a little glum. "I thought you could use something to eat." He sets down a plate of some veggies with hummus next to me.
"Th- thank you," I stammer.
"You know I'm here if you need me," Derrick says softly. I look up at him, giving him a soft smile. It's all I can really manage.
"Thank you," I say again as I grab a carrot from the plate. I don't say anything else or even look back up at Derrick. This is not a time for us. I eat a couple more of the veggies on my plate before I finally take a peek just to see that Derrick is no longer here. I finish my plate before standing back up. I stretch my stiff muscles after sitting on the ground for so long. I seem to have been sitting out there longer than I thought, as the house is only half as full as it was. I walk back through the doors, and as soon as I do, Lisa takes my empty drink and replaces it with a new one.
"Let me know when you'd like to switch to water," she offers. I offer her a half smile back before roaming away. I make my way through the house, not really knowing where I'm going. I move from room to room, resting against a wall here and there before wandering into Pawpaw's office. I close the door behind me and move to sit in Pawpaw's chair. Someone has already begun cleaning up this room; the desk is almost completely cleared off.
An old scrapbook sits alone on his desk, and I decide to flip through it. Old black and white and sepia toned photos fill the pages. A young Pawpaw and Grandma smile up at me page after page. Clearly, Pawpaw put this scrapbook together as his handwriting covers the blank spaces between photos. A smile sinks into my cheeks as I read his wit, even back then, and his many odd nicknames that I never knew existed for so many people. I wish I had found these when he could tell me more about the photographs and the adventures being had within them. I wonder how much anyone still knows about any of them. I recognize his mother in one, and I notice there isn't one of his father. This doesn't really surprise me; Pawpaw and his father had such a bad relationship, he never talked about it with anyone.
"Oh, I didn't realize anyone was in here," Ray practically stumbles in, bottle of scotch in hand.
"I can leave if you were looking for a moment of peace," I stand slowly, ready to make an escape. I've seen Ray this drunk before, it never ends well.
"No, no, no, no, no, no," he drawls as he locks the door behind him. "I think this is a perfect time to air some stuff out." He takes a large swig from the bottle of scotch as he leans against the door.
"Ray, we don't need to air anything out," I attempt to say as calmly as I can as I move around the desk.
"Laney," he whines, "why can't you get it?"
"What? What do I need to get?"
"I wasn't always like this. I used to be good," he slurs as he points his finger at me.
"Ray, I believe there is still good in you. You and I, we've just done some bad things." I put my hands gently on his arm, hoping to coax the bottle from his hand.
"No, no, no, no, no, no," he slurs as he grips the bottle tighter. "You don't get it. I made mistakes before you came along, but I was still good. But you," he throws his free hand toward me before it immediately drops back down, "something about you, it was bewildering." He pauses looking off into the distance confused. "Bewitching. You were bewitching. You made me do everything bad I've done. The rift!"
"The rift?" I'm trying to keep up with his drunken ramblings, but my own brain is swimming with alcohol as well.
"Rick and I! We're best friends. His old man was evil. He was the scum of the earth. I saw what he did to Rick, what that bastard let his friends do to Rick too! I couldn't stand to leave him with someone like that. Your Pawpaw, Ed, he was a saint. I knew he could do something. So, I went to him and your father, and we got Rick out of there. We made a pact that night, we would live our lives in a way that no one would need saving ever again. We all made mistakes, but none that couldn't be forgiven. But you," he spits at me.
"Ray, I'm sorry that I disrupted your friendship with Derrick. It was never my intention," I plead with him.
"Disrupted my friendship?" He takes another swig from the bottle before grabbing my wrist. "No, no, no, no, no, no," he shakes his head, angry tears welling up in his eyes. "You've massacred it. Do you not understand what I've been saying to you?" Ray's grip tightens around my wrist as I try to pull it away.
"You're hurting me Ray."
"I love you. Rick loves you. You love Rick. You can't quit me," he shrugs holding up his bottle. "How do you decide what to do? No matter what you hurt someone. No matter what, Rick and I, one of us will forever envy the other. Neither of us is better off because we get to have you. Maybe neither of us should." His face is so close to mine, I'm not sure if the scotch I smell is from the bottle or his breath. "I'm not the man I hoped I would be. Is Ed disappointed in me?" Ray turns his gaze upwards. I take the opportunity to try to reach past him to unlock the door. "What do you think Laney?"
"It's Harper. Please, I don't go by Laney anymore."
"Ah yes, how you identify yourself," the way he says that reminds me of how Snape speaks to Harry Potter in that first potions lesson at Hogwarts. "Well, Harper," he clicks his tongue a couple of times as he looks down at me once more, "do you think Ed is disappointed in me?"
"I think Ed knew only the best parts of you, and therefore, was quite proud."
"Yes, that may be true, but he knows it all now doesn't he? He's been up there for like a week now catching up on all the things he missed. With that in mind, do you think Ed is disappointed in me?"
"I don't know," I whisper, not wanting to give the wrong answer.
"Yes, you do," Ray hisses as he twists my arm and pulls me closer. "You of all people know because you knew him the best."
"I didn't though," I begin to cry, the realization suddenly springing forth. "I didn't. He knew me, probably better than I knew myself, but so much of his life is still a mystery. I always believed he was the only one who would cheer me on no matter what, but even in the end I couldn't tell him the truth. I was afraid. If I was so sure that he would stand by my side no matter what, why couldn't I tell him?" The tears don't stop. They fall hard and fast. I nearly fall from how hard I'm crying, but, surprisingly, Ray catches me. He holds me with all his strength as I am no longer holding myself up. I cry for such a long time, that I don't remember leaving Pawpaw's office. I must have fallen asleep crying because I wake up in the bed I've been sleeping in at Pawpaw's all week.
A cup of water and two aspirin sit on the bedside table waiting for me. I sit up slowly and notice the makeup smears on the pillow from my crying. I feel better now that I've finally cried. I wonder if anyone else is still in the house. I finish my water and take the two aspirin before changing out of my funeral attire. I don't know if this is a dress I'll ever be able to wear again. I toss it in the hamper as I search for shorts and a tank. I'm only halfway dressed when my door quietly and slowly opens.
"Hello?" I call out meekly.
"Oh, I didn't realize you were up," Derrick steps more confidently through the door until he sees me. "What is wrong with me?"
"What?" I look down realizing I only have on shorts and my sticky boobs, which are barely a bra. "Oh Derrick, does it even matter anymore?" I sigh as I throw my tank top on and peel my sticky boobs off.
"I just can't believe how many times I've walked in on you like this. I swear it's not planned."
"I know that. You'd have to have strangely perfect timing for it to be planned."
"I just came to check on you," Derrick says, moving on as he runs his hand through his hair. "Most people have been gone for a while, and the rest of us are about to walk back over now. I told everyone I'd catch up."
"So why did you come to check on me?"
"Well, you've barely eaten, you've drunk your weight in alcohol and you fell asleep sobbing at your grandfather's funeral. Do I really need more reason than that?"
"Nope. I appreciate you checking on me." I throw my hair up into a messy bun as I make my way toward the exit.
"Where are you going?"
"I need a drink." I saunter out of my room and down the hall. Derrick follows me unsurprisingly.
"You know, there's a lot of leftovers in the fridge. I could throw something together for you," he offers as he walks at my pace.
"I'm not super hungry."
"Just humor me," he steps in front of me, but I try not to keep eye contact. "Please?"
"Fine," I agree half-heartedly. "But you have to humor me too."
"What? How?" I smirk at him as I make my way around him and into the kitchen. A few seconds later, Derrick slumps into the kitchen as well. "Chicken salad or turkey?" He asks as he opens the refrigerator.
"Chicken salad. Gin or scotch?"
"Oh no, thank you though. I have had more than enough to drink."
"Then no food for me, please," I retort as I pour myself some gin.
"Seriously?"
"I said I would humor you if you humored me. It goes both ways or no dice." I wait by the alcohol for him to decide.
"Fine. Scotch then please." I give him a small smile and nod as I pour him a glass of scotch. I bring the glasses and then the bottles to the table while Derrick makes me a chicken salad sandwich. We clink our glasses when he joins me at the table, and we both take large sips of our drinks. He gives me a stern look, and I finally give in and take a large bite of the sandwich.
"There. Happy?" I ask through a mouth full of food.
"I'd be happier if you ate like a human being instead of a cow," he shoots back. I purposely exaggerate my open-mouth chews as Derrick just laughs and feigns utter horror.
"Thanks for the sandwich," I say as I finally manage to swallow the huge bite I took.
"Anytime," Derrick responds before taking another sip of his drink.
"How long was I out earlier?"
"A couple hours at least. All of us knew you needed it."
"Everyone is in mourning. It's not fair that I sat out if y'all needed me for cleaning up or anything." I play with the crust of my sandwich as I let my guilt sink in. I allowed myself to get sidetracked today when it was supposed to be all about Pawpaw. I drink the rest of my gin, and I pour myself another glass.
"You were there and helpful this morning and other days. Everyone mourns in their own way, which is something this family learned long ago. No one was upset or surprised when you took your time out today; in fact, we had all been waiting for it." Derrick swirls the remainder of the scotch around in his glass looking as though something else is on his mind.
"Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?" I take another bite of my sandwich knowing there is and having a pretty good idea what it's about.
"You and Ray," Derrick finally says solemnly before downing the remainder of his scotch. I pour more into his now empty glass while I finish chewing my mouthful of chicken salad.
"What about me and Ray?" I prod after I get my food down.
"He told me about the other night. Then today, he was the one whose shoulder you ended up crying on. I'm just having a really hard time believing that there's nothing there when clearly there's so much." We both sip on our drinks in silence for a beat while I try to find the words. My head's not as foggy as it was earlier in the day, but it is definitely not the sharpest it's ever been either.
"Derrick," I finally begin, "the other night was in no way due to feelings either of us are harboring. How do I explain this?" I rub my temples before drinking the rest of the gin in my glass. "Ray and you were both coming at me that night. There was anger all around. There was sadness over the loss of the baby. There was a crazy amount of alcohol. There was just, well, a lot happening. I left early, as you know, because everyone was pissing me off." I pour myself more gin as Derrick nurses his scotch. "Ray came back early, right after me. We were both drunk, angry, hurt, not in our right minds, and things happened." I think back to him pinning my down, his hand on my throat. I choke down the emotions and anxiety building up. There were moments in the past when Ray got his way, even if I didn't want to give it to him, but in the end, I had made the choice to just suck it up and do it. That night, everything changed. That night, I didn't fight back as much as I should have.
"Harper?" I realize I let myself fall into the endless night of my memories.
"Sorry. Just trying to figure out what to say and how." I take another bite of my sandwich, hoping the food will help to counteract the drunken loss of words or even saying too much.
"It's okay. And I get that you think that there were no lingering emotions involved in that night, but that's not how he felt. Whether you believe it or not, Ray cares about you deeply. He possibly even loves you." I shake my head, but Derrick grabs my arm urgently. "He does, Harper! I've seen it. You have too, at least in the past. You said so yourself. This whole situation is messier than you're willing to admit." His grip tightens, and again I have flashbacks to Ray's grip on me. I pull my arm away, holding it close to me. I know how messy this situation is, but it's not in the way Derrick thinks it is.
"I know how messy everything is. It's my mess. I made this mess. I tried to fix it by leaving. I tried to fix it again by laying everything out on the table. Everything about this mess isn't fixable though. I'm like this small snowball that started rolling down this huge mountain, and somewhere along the way you and Ray got caught. The snowball keeps rolling though, getting bigger and bigger as it does, knocking down obstacles or bumping y'all into them on the way down. I don't know when we'll reach the bottom, but I do know that when we do, it won't be pretty." We both sit in silence once again. I'm starting to think even if we had a future together, we will most likely never move past all of this. Since I've been home, I feel as though I've relived so much loss, while trying to pretend it doesn't bother me as much as it does. Then with Pawpaw, because of all the extra drama, I don't feel as though I've mourned the loss of him the way I should.
"Hey, I'm sorry. I should have waited until at least tomorrow to bring any of this up. It's not fair to you, or to Ed. Let's put this conversation on pause until a better time."
"You sure?"
"Yes ma'am, I am. Now, a toast," Derrick announces as he lifts his glass.
"Well that sure is a shift in gears."
"Raise your glass please." I do as he asks, smiling at him as I do. "He wasn't biologically my father, but he was one helluva dad. We lost quite the force of nature, but we'll never forget him. To Ed!"
"To Pawpaw!" We clink our glasses and down the rest of our drinks. We talk through a couple more drinks, telling our favorite stories of Pawpaw. He was full of crazy life lessons, old man antics and the rock in all our lives. It's nearly two in the morning before we finally look at the time.
"Oh wow, I should probably head back over." Derrick stretches before standing and taking our dishes to the sink.
"Derrick?"
"Yes Harper?"
"Will you stay with me tonight?"