Page 28 of The Dancer and the Dark
Clara nodded graciously, a demure smile on her face, while Chloe sat next to her, frozen by a stranger’s memories of a man she’d never known.
Was that why her father had always been so distant to her? Was he saving his devotion and affection for his patients? And if so, wasn’t she the selfish one? Were her needs more important than theirs? She’d never experienced juvenile cancer. She’d never fought for her life. What was her lonely childhood to the holy mission of medicine her father had pursued?
Patient after patient, grateful parents and grandparents. The service went on for three hours while her father’s life and work were celebrated. Chloe felt like she was drifting through the day on autopilot—standing in a receiving line, receiving greetings and unwelcome hugs from relatives she hadn’t seen in a decade.
The graveside ceremony was a true sham. There was no casket because her father had long ago signed papers to donate his body to science—his last noble gesture—which meant all Chloe and her relatives were doing was dedicating a place where her father’s cremated remains would eventually be put in the ground after medical students were done with him.
It all felt hollow, empty like the hole in the ground that hadn’t even been dug. Chloe ached for something solid. She wanted to hear the thunk of a casket being lowered. She wanted to see her father’s face, even if it was in death. She wanted to put a gardenia on his casket and touch… something.
But there was nothing. Memories from other people who knew and missed her father in a way she never could.
If she followed Gavin into immortality, this grief would be played out over and over again. She would slowly watch everyone she had ever known in life die before her. Her mother, of course. Her aunts. Her cousins and the babies that followed their every step.
Her friends.
Arthur and Drew. Zain. Dema. Audra. All her friends from the dance company.
They would all be gone, and she would feel this hollow ache in her chest over and over and over.
Just like Gavin would if you remain human.
Except it would be worse. So much worse. To stay with her, watch her decay. Or lose her to a car crash or a heart attack like her father.
“Do you think my love has an expiration date?”
She was very afraid that it didn’t. After five years of life with the man, she’d seen his dark side, seen the creeping depression that he battled to contain at times. She’d watched him fight back his most selfish instincts to give her the kindness and stability she needed.
She’d also seen the edge of violence and his fierce loyalty to the few people he counted as friends. He had employees and people he looked after, but the people Gavin truly cared about? She could count them on her fingers.
“I spent nearly two hundred years alone, and then I found you.”
She couldn’t think about that now. She didn’t want to think about it at all, but especially not when she was standing at the future gravesite of a father she had never known, the man she’d spent her adult life disappointing.
She was tired and she wanted Gavin, but it would be hours before he woke. Hours of shallow pleasantries at her mother’s house. Hours entertaining family who judged her and asked in quiet tones why her “boyfriend” wasn’t there.
I don’t care.
She could tell herself that over and over, but she did.
Audra touched the back of her arm, startling her out of her reverie in the graveyard. “You ready?”
Chloe blinked and looked around, realizing that everyone was walking back to the cars without her. Dema was waiting at a polite distance.
“Where’re Semis and Zain?” She frowned, looking for the men.
“They went to start the car.” Audra nodded toward the long line of luxury cars that was winding out of the cemetery. “Come on. Just a few more hours.”
Until Gavin was awake and she felt something solid again.
Chloe nodded and walked over the uneven grass. Dema hooked her arm through Chloe’s as they walked.
“I’m so sorry, Chloe.” Dema kept her voice low. “I can’t imagine—”
“I’m fine.” Her voice was wooden. “I didn’t really know him, I guess. All these people lost a brother, a friend, a beloved doctor.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I lost a stranger.”
She countedthe hours until sundown, sitting in the shade of the backyard to escape the oppressive scent of gardenias in the house. They were her father’s favorite. Neat, glossy green leaves with fragrant pure white blossoms. Gardenias were perfect hothouse flowers that took well to formal gardens and bloomed through the summer.
When she was a teenager, she’d looked up the meaning of the flower. It was a bloom sent to signal secret or unexpressed love. It also had a lot of generic meanings like familial love, purity, and friendship.
