Bittersweet Memories (Off-Limits #4)
Catharina Maura
PART ONE
The Past
Chapter One
Silas
My heart wrenches as I stare at my father’s casket, the pain so great it nearly brings me to my knees. Every breath of air I suck in hurts, and my throat is burning from the screams and tears I’m keeping within. Helplessness and a great sense of injustice claw at me. Why my father? How could it possibly have been his time? He was far healthier than I ever have been, and he stuck to his workout routines and his healthy diet without ever missing a day. It makes no sense to me. I sit up in my seat at the front of the cemetery, my eyes roaming over the crowd that has gathered to bid my father farewell. Do these people feel the same injustice I feel?
Over the last few days, I’ve felt like I’ve been witnessing everything from a distance, as though I wasn’t there at all when we were told my father had a sudden heart attack. I recall going to the hospital and holding his hand, not comprehending what the doctors were trying to say. To me, it looked like Dad was simply asleep. His hand was still warm in mine, and unlike what I’d read about death, he wasn’t stiff at all. I was so certain they’d made a mistake, or that, perhaps, this was all an elaborate joke. My father always had a morbid sense of humor, and I hoped that’s all it was.
It wasn’t.
My stepmother rises from her seat opposite me and disgust settles at the pit of my stomach, uncurling and spreading through my body until I can barely stand to look at her. She’s wearing a black hat with a black dress that’s far too short to be appropriate. Matching black heels with bottoms the same red color as her lips complete her outfit. While I understand everyone deals with grief differently, I can’t help but resent the perfect smile on her make-up riddled face. I could barely get myself into the shower this morning, and even as I sit here, I’m shaking from the force of my suppressed tears. How does she smile like that when she just lost her husband?
Mona’s gaze roams over the sizeable crowd that has gathered at the cemetery to say their last goodbyes to my father. It’s almost as though she suddenly realizes that all eyes are on her, because she freezes for a split-second before she sniffs as tears gather in her eyes.
“Thank you all for being here today to honor my late husband, Jacob Sinclair,” she says, her voice trembling ever so slightly. “He leaves behind two beautiful boys, both of whom are evidence of the great man he was. In them, he instilled love, honor, kindness, and a moral compass stronger than any other. While we may have lost Jacob, I take solace in knowing that I’ll see him in the eyes of my sons every day.”
I glance at my younger half-brother, who is seated next to his mother’s empty seat. Ryan is looking down at his lap, his hands clenched and his head bowed. I see the tears that fall from his eyes, the pain he tries to hide. Unlike my stepmother, Ryan is drowning in the same pain I feel, and regret hits me hard. Several times, he’s come to my room to tell me about his memories of Dad, as though he needed someone to remember him with, someone who would truly understand.
Each time, I turned him away, unable to face the fact that our father is truly gone. Being five years older, I should’ve known how much my thirteen-year-old brother needed me, and I failed him. Instead of pushing him away, I should’ve hugged him the way his mother won’t. I should’ve done what Dad would’ve expected of me. Instead, I lost myself in my own selfish sorrows.
I inhale shakily and rub my hand over my face as I try to keep it together. I can barely even focus on my stepmother’s speech. All I can hear is the sound of my own beating heart. I focus on the steady thumping throughout the rest of the eulogy, wishing I could just get out of here. I don’t want to watch my father’s casket close, and I can’t stand the thought of him being cremated, no part of him remaining on this earth. Somehow, I always assumed he’d want to be buried, just like my mother. I assumed there’d be a place I could go visit him, the way he and I used to visit Mom. Until this morning, I didn’t even realize that I’d never be able to do that.
Mona takes a step away, and one by one, people approach Dad’s casket, saying their final goodbyes. I don’t have it in me to do the same. I’ve seen Dad several times at the funeral home since he passed away, but it still doesn’t feel real to me.
My gaze shifts to Ryan, whose eyes are on Dad. I can tell he wants to approach him and say his own last farewell, but he doesn’t dare to. Once again, hatred for my stepmother overwhelms me, blinding me as I rise to my feet. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’ve got my hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Come on,” I murmur. “Let’s go together.”
He looks up at me through teary eyes, so much faith and relief in his expression. Sometimes it gets hard to remember that Ryan isn’t his mother. It’s no secret that Mona and I don’t get along, but our feud never should have touched Ryan.
I lead him toward Dad, his entire body shaking with each step we take. By the time we pause in front of the casket, Ryan is barely containing his sobs. “Dad,” he whispers, his voice breaking.
Our father looks so serene, lying there in his favorite suit. His thick dark hair is neatly combed, and his hands are laid on top of each other. It’s strange to see him like this, because it’s clearly him, yet it also feels like it isn’t him at all. I don’t believe in souls and such, but watching my father lying there truly makes me feel like he’s no longer here with us.