“Hey, man.” I try to swallow, but my throat is bone-dry. “How is everything?”
Silence stretches like elastic, longer and thinner, ever thinner, until I think my composure will snap along with it.
“Zane…” Matt’s voice cracks, and oh shit, no. No fucking way.
“Don’t,” I whisper. No, I don’t wanna know. I don’t want—
“It’s over. She’s dead. She went peacefully, in her sleep. You need…”
His voice is fading. The blood rushing in my ears is too loud. I need to sit down. I need to start running. I don’t know what the hell I need.
“… funeral,” Matt is saying. “Tomorrow morning, in Bolinbrook. The viewing is tonight.”
Tomorrow. The funeral. Emma’s funeral.
I try to speak, but no sound comes out.
“Zane, are you there?” Matt’s voice cracks again, and I close my eyes. I feel as if my head’s gonna explode.
“Yeah.”
“Will you come tonight?”
I nod stupidly, standing on the sidewalk, talking into my cell. “Yeah.” My voice barely comes out, scratchy and hoarse. “Yeah, I will.”
“See you later, then.”
The call disconnects, and I find myself standing, yet not really feeling my feet. Not feeling anything. Except my chest hurts. I look down, expecting to see a bullet lodged smack in the middle of it. A gaping wound. A hole.
But there’s nothing. Nothing on me to show what just happened. How much it hurts.
Emma.
I didn’t get to say goodbye. She was barely conscious the whole weekend I was there, and when she was, she didn’t say a word. She did smile at me once. I recall her smile, and my fists tighten.
Not fair. Not fair that she’s gone. She can’t be gone. She can’t be.
The cell casing creaks. I force myself to unclench my fingers before I break it, because... I stare at it blankly. Something I need to do.
Tell Ash. Or Rafe.
No, that’s not it.
Call Dakota.
My lungs feel too small as I search for her number. Breathing is difficult. No idea why. I’m just standing here. Standing still while the world is spinning madly.
I call, but I get no reply. The pressure on my chest is crushing my lungs. I put the cell away mechanically. My brain is mostly blank. Can’t even recall what I wanted to tell Dakota.
All I know is that I need to get into my pickup truck and drive to Bolinbrook. Need to see Emma one last time. Need to tell her goodbye.
I turn away from the shop and start walking, occasionally stumbling. Still can’t feel my feet much. It’s as if I’m floating, and they’re rocks, anchoring me to earth. I drag them behind me like dead weights.
Say goodbye. Somehow I hope Emma can still hear me, from wherever her spirit is. I’m going to her funeral. I owe her that much. It’s the last thing I can do for her, and I’ll be damned if I lose my shit before I get it done.
The viewing is held at a funeral home. I can’t see the kids, and fleetingly, I wonder where they are, but I can’t focus enough to hold on to that thought.
Emma is laid out in a dark wooden casket. Her small face is powdered and rouged, her pale hands folded over her chest. There are flowers around her. I sit there and look at her. I feel dizzy when I stand, so I just sit and look. She seems asleep.
Please, wake up.
People have drifted in and out of the room. Now they’re gone, and it’s just me and Emma.
“Sis.” I have no tears. My eyes are dry, so dry they ache. “This ain’t fair. You should’ve stayed. You said you’d stick by me.” I stop, because it sounds so selfish. But she’s my family. All the family I have. Except… “The kids will miss you. Matt will miss you. I…” My voice breaks, and I rub my chest. Fucking hurts. “Don’t know if I can do this without you, dammit.”
“Zane.” Matt appears at the door. “It’s past nine. They’re closing up here, and you should go to bed. You look awful.”
He does, too. Not that it matters. I shake my head. “Talking to Emma.”
“Emma’s dead,” he bites out, and I bend over, his words a punch to my stomach. “Look, you have to come to terms with that, man.”
The chair creaks when he sits down next to me. He puts his hand on my shoulder, and I flinch hard, almost falling down. He withdraws it.
“Zane… I’m sorry. I love Emma. I know you love her. I know this is hard. But you have to rest, or you won’t make it to the funeral tomorrow. You don’t look well, man.”
I concentrate on breathing, getting air into my crushed lungs. My heart is banging in my chest. “’M okay.”
“Come on.” He pats my arm and stands up. “Let’s go home.”
Home. Home ain’t here, not anymore. I let Matt haul me to my feet and drag me toward his car. I’m thankful I don’t have to drive. Not sure I can.
I let him drive me to their house, and once there, I drop on the sofa and spend the night staring a hole into the ceiling.
She’s gone. Emma’s gone.
Dammit all to hell, but when reality comes crashing down, it really doesn’t hold back.
Matt drives us to the cemetery. The kids are riding in his mother’s car, he tells me. His mother. Keep forgetting Matt has parents, unlike me and Emma. His parents are here, and as it turns out, also some cousins. Maybe that’s good. More people to say goodbye.
Goodbye to Emma. A knot is stuck in my throat, and I can’t swallow. Can’t speak.
The casket is there. There’s a hole in the ground. They’re gonna put Emma into a fucking hole in the ground. I can’t…
Matt’s hand on my arm brings me back from the brink. “Ready?”
The fuck I am. How can I ever be ready to put my sister into the ground?
But I follow him out of the car. There are chairs. There’s a priest. He waits for all of us to sit and starts talking. He talks and talks, words, and words, and more fucking words, washing over me like soap bubbles, pretty, light and just as empty, bursting into nothing.
I’m not alone, I tell myself as they lower the casket into the earth. I’m not. I have my friends. I have the kids. I have Matt. He said we’ll always be a family, ever since he started dating Emma.
I glance at him. He’s, what, twenty-six? But he looks old, emaciated and bent, his mouth thin.
One by one the people get up to leave. I stay seated. Don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Where I’m supposed to go. Nothing makes sense.
“Zane.” Matt is suddenly in front of me. I blink. “Come home with us. You need to sleep. I don’t think you slept at all last night.”
Maybe that’s what I should do. Besides, I can’t think, so I might as well follow his lead.
“Your friends know what happened?” Matt shoots me a glance as we walk toward the cars.