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My mother flinched as if I’d struck her. My palm itched to do just that.
But I’d done all the damage I needed to do with bringing up what happened to Ansel. What ultimately set him on the course to trying to find an escape, the numbness that drugs gave him.
I felt nothing, seeing tears well in my mother’s eyes. They weren’t real. Nothing about the woman was.
I looked at the funeral director, his expression still impassive. “He’ll be cremated,” I informed him.
Then I turned on my heel and left, Rowan at my side, where he’d be for the foreseeable future.
Ansel was not buried. But Mom kept the plot. It didn’t surprise me. She didn’t like losing at anything, not getting her way. So, she had to hold on to control wherever and whenever she could. Plus, she needed it for whatever bullshit appearances she’d created. The stuffy circle of socialites she’d managed to elbow her way into.
But appearances didn’t matter to me. All that mattered was that my brother’s wishes were being respected. That he’d be scattered across the ocean as he’d wanted.
I wondered what my mother had told them, all of the people who had attended the service, most of whom hadn’t even known my brother. But some did—the small but lovely group dressed in bright colors, wearing eccentric jewelry, covered in tattoos.
Gunner, a black man with long dreadlocks and a face of beautiful makeup, had informed me that they would be having a different service at the park later… which he invited me to after he’d given me a hug that felt warm and comforting.
“Now, we’ve got to get out of here,” his rich brown eyes surveying the small crowd. “Before all these rich white people get nervous and call the cops on us.” He gave me a wink and an arm squeeze. “Ansel talked about you all the time,” he added softly. “He loved you so much. He was very proud of you.”
My teeth sank into my lip, and I tasted blood.
“Please come to the service,” he said. “We would love to have you there, and I know that Ansel would’ve too.” He’d given me one last squeeze before leaving.
I didn’t want to go. Here, amongst all of the flowers, the tasteful canapes, the people wearing designer clothing, the stuffy music… I could lie to myself. Tell myself this was not my brother’s funeral. This could’ve been anyone else’s, but not my brother’s.
It was the last thread of denial I was holding on to.
Oh, how tempting it was to bury my head in the sand.
“We don’t have to go,” Rowan murmured from beside me. We were on the balcony of my mother’s stuffy apartment, where the reception was held.
It was impressive. Had great views of the lake. Was worth millions.
It made me sick.
He was talking about the service. My brother’s service. The real one. The one that would prove my brother was truly gone.
“No, we do,” I shook my head. “I do.” I stared at the lake because I couldn’t look at Rowan. Not now.
“I need to say goodbye to my brother the right way.” I motioned to the apartment. “This is not the right way.”
“Okay, cupcake.” He kissed the top of my head.
The gesture, the endearment, didn’t work as it normally did to make me feel safe, protected. How could it? There was nothing to protect me from anymore.
Rowan stiffened behind me as the sounds of the party suddenly rushed outward with the opening of the door.
I didn’t turn to see who it was. I could tell by the fury radiating off Rowan.
“Can I speak to my daughter for a moment? Alone?” My mother’s voice was tight, pinched and hostile.
I wanted to smile at how much she disliked him because he wouldn’t stand around and let her walk all over me. Because he saw right through her.
“No, you fuckin’ can’t,” Rowan responded, moving in front of me as I turned from my contemplation of the lake.
I placed my hand on his arm. “It’s fine,” I sighed. I’d known this was coming. My mother was nothing if not predictable.
Rowan didn’t move. He stared at my mother for a few more beats before he turned his full attention to me. His face was creased with worry. “Nora,” he murmured.
“I’m fine,” I reassured him. “I promise I won’t throw her off or anything.” I nodded to the balcony. “I wouldn’t do well in prison.”
Rowan didn’t smile. He just looked at me for another long moment before nodding tersely. “I’ll be right inside,” he said loudly, both to me and my mother before he leaned in to kiss my forehead.
The loss of him was something I felt physically. My limbs went weak. It was hard to keep myself upright. But that also might’ve been due to all the booze I’d consumed and the canapes I’d ignored.
