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“I’m going to top up my tan.” She gave him a sweet smile.

He nodded. “Come on, Emily, let’s go to church.”

We drove in silence into the village. As it was early on a Saturday morning, the village square was lively. Outside the café on the corner, the tables were packed with old and young alike, drinking coffee and smoking… so much smoking.

Dylan parked in the square, and he came with me to the church.

“I’ve never been inside,” he said as we entered. Like yesterday, the church was empty. “Oh, I can see why you want to come here,” he murmured. “Do you want to light some candles?”

Good idea. I nodded.

My parents weren’t religious and neither was I, but in this ancient building, this sanctuary, I hoped to find some solace. Lighting the candles was my way of saying thank you for this brief respite from my pain. Dylan put a twenty euro note into the collection box and took out three long, tapered candles.

“Here you go.”

I lit all three and placed them next to each other on the spiked candlestand beneath the Virgin Mary. She regarded me, her features immobilized but filled with grace and love. My thoughts turned to my lost family.

I miss you.

I love you. All of you.

I hope you are happy, wherever you are.

Dylan deposited another note in the box and diligently lit three candles too. Together, we stood staring into the wavering flames, our faces lit by the warmth and glow from the flickering light. My mind wandered, and I thought about Tristan.

“Can I light another?” I asked.

“Of course. Here.” He handed me another candle, and I was grateful he didn’t ask me who it was for. I held the wick to one of my candles, the one I’d lit for Billy, and it flared to life. I placed it beside my little brother’s.

Tristan. I miss you too.

How are you?

Are you alone? Do you miss me? Us?

Or are you with other spirits?

Don’t be gone too long, wherever you are.

“I’m going to sit for a while, if that’s okay?” I said to Dylan.

“Go ahead. I’ll go across to the café and have another coffee. Will you be all right on your own?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and turned on his heel, and I watched him leave through the old oak doors.

I sat where I’d sat two days ago. There was no one else in the church, and after a few moments, I melted into the serene, quiet atmosphere around me.

My mind drifted as I watched the dust motes swirl in the fresh morning light that shone through the windows on either side of the apse. I remembered Billy as a small child, pointing alarmed at the dust motes dancing in the afternoon light in our house and asking my mother if they had mouths. The memory brought a bittersweet smile to my lips. He must have been three. My mother had laughed and reassured him, and together, they had tried to catch some.

I heard the creak of the doors, but no one came to sit down. My mind continued to drift. I began to feel more at peace, the atmosphere finally sidestepping Numb. I wanted my friend gone and my equilibrium back.

The light in the apse grew brighter, and I realized that time had moved on. I had no idea how long I had been sitting on the wooden bench. I stood and turned to go.

Dylan was seated on the floor by the door. He rested his hands on his raised knees, twirling his sunglasses round and round. His eyes were closed, and his head was tilted back resting against the wall. He seemed to be lost in his own world. He looked young. Young and sad, and for the first time, I noticed he was dressed entirely in black, a short sleeve shirt and black jeans, the color of mourning.

How appropriate.