Page 11 of If You Stayed

“I’m sorry,” I heard him say before Mrs. Sinclair dropped to her knees and broke into a howling cry. Gabriel darted over to her side and wrapped his arms around her. He held on to his mother tightly as she fell apart. He began to cry, too, and fell apart with her, so I did the only thing I could think to do.

I went to hold him because he had no one to holdhimthrough the sad part. Everyone should have somebody to hold them during the sad parts.

As I listened to him cry, I started to cry, too.

***

It was a heart attack.

Mr. Sinclair’s heart just gave out without warning. The doctors all tried their best to bring him back, but it didn’t work. Mom said it was one of the saddest things that ever happened. Daddy didn’t say much. He and Mr. Sinclair were good friends, and when Daddy found out about his death, he went into his study and didn’t come out for hours.

A week later was the funeral for Mr. Sinclair. I sat between Mom and Daddy in the church pew, two rows behind Gabriel and his mom. The two of them sat in the front row. Mom said the front row was for the people closest to the person who passed away, which meant to me that it was the hardest row to sit in. I hoped I’d never have to sit in the front row… I hoped Gabriel would never have to do it again, either.

I couldn’t stop staring in the Sinclairs’ direction as I sat in the pew. Gabriel hadn’t been to school over the past week. I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t ever wanna go back to school if I’d lost my dad. I wouldn’t want to do anything.

“You okay, sport?” Daddy asked as he leaned in to whisper to me.

I nodded.

He took my hand in his and squeezed it lightly. Mom took my other hand and did the same thing.

I could only see the back of Gabriel’s head with his dark hair. He wore an all-black suit, like everyone else, and didn’t raise his head to acknowledge all the adults who kept walking up to tryto engage with him. At one point, his uncle tried to get him to go up to the open casket to say goodbye, but he refused to do it.

I was too scared to go up there, too.

The pastor did a speech, and some people shared stories about Mr. Sinclair. There was music, and after the service, they moved the casket to a car. Gabriel and his mother had to walk behind the casket, and I thought that was kind of evil to make them do. I thought at any second they both would’ve fallen down from being so heartbroken.

At one point, Gabriel looked over to me, and his eyes were so red and flooded with tears that I started to weep, too. I didn’t know why, but over the past week, whenever I saw Gabriel cry, I’d start crying. It was like his tears sparked something in me that made my chest hurt so much that I was forced to cry, too. Before that, I didn’t know my tears could match another’s.

At the end of the burial, everyone tossed a rose on top of the casket, and they lowered it into the ground.

“No, no, no,” Mrs. Sinclair wailed as that happened. She dropped to her knees and reached out for her husband, and it broke my heart that Mr. Sinclair wasn’t there to reach back out toward her.

I didn’t understand death. How could it be so cruel?

Gabriel stepped up and took her hand, though.

“It’s okay, Mom. It’s okay,” he told her, even though I wasn’t sure he believed that himself. How could he believe that it was okay? He no longer had a dad. But still, he tried his best to make sure his mom was all right.

Maybe that was when I started to hate him a little less.

Maybe that was when I started to wonder who was making sure he was all right if he was in charge of making sure his mom was all right.

I didn’t mean anything against Mrs. Sinclair when I thought that, but it seemed she was hardly able to keep herself together, let alone her son who was being forced to grow up a lot faster than he should’ve been. I had a feeling Mrs. Sinclair would never be the same after that. Maybe that’s what death did to the people who were still stuck being alive—changed them forever. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.

***

Gabriel

“Gabriel Sinclair! Get back in here. And you will stop slamming these doors, young man. Do you understand me?” Mom yelled as she followed me out to the backyard. I didn’t say another word to her. I was sick of it all. I was sick of her telling me to do my homework. I was sick of her trying to do the stuff with me that Dad always did. I was sick of her asking if I wanted to play catch with her. I was sick of it all! I was mostly sick of Dad being dead, though.

How could he do that?

How could he die?

I hated him for that! I hated him so much that it made me want to explode.

I glanced to my left and saw Kierra sitting in her backyard on her tire swing, and for some reason, that made me mad, too. I hated how she looked at me lately. As if she felt bad for me. I much preferred it when she was busy calling me a toad. I didn’t want her to feel bad for me. I didn’t want her to feelanythingfor me because Ihatedher. I hated how she had two parents. It wasn’tfair. Nothing was fair anymore.

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