Then he turns, rejoining the crowd, which has grown larger, making the room feel a little stuffy. Multiple conversations are taking place, overlapping and melding together.
But Jacob doesn’t seem to hear any of it. He’s staring down into his glass. He swirls it once, then lifts it to his mouth, taking a sip.
“I gave the toast,” he says. “For James.”
A tight sensation builds in my chest. “Yeah?” I ask.
He nods.
I wait for him to continue, but a man pushes past us, jostling Jacob as he heads for the kitchen. Jacob trips, and I reach out for his arm, trying to steady him.
“Sorry,” the man calls over his shoulder, and Jacob waves it off, but there’s something about the gesture. Stiff and stilted. He’s holding his whole body that way, tight and drawn.
This area of the room’s gotten more congested. There’s hardly any standing room left, only little pockets between bodies.
I feel a crisp burst of air and watch a few people exit through a side door, out into a yard.
“Should we follow them?” I ask. “Get outside for a bit?”
The tension on Jacob’s face relaxes a fraction, but he hesitates. “Should we wait for them to do the toast first?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think they’ll miss us.”
He looks relieved at that, but he doesn’t move. I can tell he still wants to do the “right” thing, to be there for this family he’s only just met, but Jacob’s done enough. He’s offered his time and his help and taken on burdens that were never his to begin with. He’s shown up for strangers, and for Maggie, and for my father. He’s always taking care of someone else, but who’s prioritizing his needs? Who’s givinghimpermission to stop? Who’s seeing him? Allowing him to rest?
“Let’s go,” I tell him. I step through an opening in the crowd, my hand trailing down his arm to his wrist, wrapping around the thick fabric of his jacket sleeve.
I can see the moment he stops resisting, color returning to his face, the sharp lines of his shoulders falling slightly. We step onto the grass, moist and squishy beneath our shoes, and I watch his chest expand as he breathes deeply. The mountain air feels crisp and cold and clean.
I do the same, filling my lungs with it, inhaling until it aches, replacing everything inside me with something new.
He takes a few steps away from the door, and I walk with him, farther into the garden, the noise from the house growing softer.
“Thanks,” he says, a few minutes later. “I needed a—I needed this.”
“Me too,” I say. Not because I had a problem with the crowd inside, but because Jacob so clearly needed a break from all of it. I’m not exactly sure why—if it was the limited breathing room or the memories the funeral may have brought up for him or the mention of James’s toast—but he needed to get away, so I did too.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.
“I—talk about what?”
“Anything,” I say. “I can’t imagine today was easy for you, so if you want to talk about some of it, any of it, I’m here.”
He doesn’t take me up on the offer, and I don’t push. Wecontinue walking in silence, past short green shrubs, purple flower beds, and a wrought-iron bench off to the side.
He takes a seat, and I do the same, our shoulders touching, feet planted on the earth, only inches apart from each other. There’s no cushion here. The metal seat is cool and hard, and I can feel every whorl of it beneath the thin fabric of my dress.
“I miss James,” Jacob says, his voice so quiet it blends in with the wind, but I hear it, clear and sharp. It pierces me, stabbing beneath my rib cage.
“He would have known what to say to Maggie,” he continues. “He would have…If she had been having doubts, she would have told him. And he would have been able to fix it. None of this would have happened if he was here.”
My throat tightens. “But it wasn’t that,” I say. “It was me. When I talked to her that night, what I said…I shouldn’t have told her anything. I shouldn’t have said—”
He shakes his head. “I wanted to blame you,” he says. “It was easier to do that, but the truth is…Maggie is immovable. Once she’s made up her mind, she doesn’t waver. What you said, none of it would have changed her mind unless she had doubts already.”
He looks over at me, his eyes wet. “And how did I not know that? What did I miss?” He swallows. “James should have been there. He should be here. And sometimes, I forget. I wonder where he is. I take out my phone and try to ring him, and then I realize, and I don’t understand why he—why he isn’t—”
Jacob breaks off, a rough breath escaping him, and I move instinctively, lifting my arms around his body, pulling him closer. His harsh breath gives way to a sob, and I absorb the sound he makes, the weight of his head on my shoulder, hot tears against the curve of my neck.
