Page 53 of Collateral Damage
“What sounds good?” He taps away on his phone. “Is Mexican still your favorite? I know you like Indian, and there’s a good one nearby.”
“Either sound amazing.”
He looks at me for a long moment. “We need tacos.”
He’s right. An hour later, I’m totally re-energized thanks to crispy chips, homemade salsa, and the best greasy tacos I’ve had in a long time. I barely even paid attention to the comedy I turned on since I was too enamored by the food. God bless this city.
We clean up, and I start going through the boxes, immediately growing overwhelmed. It’s going to be a long night.
“I can help, you know.” Cooper stands over me. “Kneeling might be a little tricky, but I can take things where you tell me to.”
I peer up at him. “Of course, Cooper.” I don’t know what to say to make him feel better. This is all so fresh. It hasn’t even been a year since everything happened.
“Three weeks until the one-year anniversary of the boating accident,” he says. “How do you feel about that?”
The grief comes at me like a rolling wave, and I turn away, busying myself with the box. “I feel… I don’t know. Sad. Angry. Numb. Part of me has come to peace with it and part of me never will.”
“Same,” he mutters. I hand him a stack of towels and tell him to take them to the upstairs bathroom.
Maybe this is a truce. Maybe we’re becoming friends again. I don’t know, and I’m too scared to ask. I’m afraid the answer isn’t going to be something I can numb out like I do all my other feelings.
Twenty-Three
Cooper
Past - Age 22
I thought watching Sybil marry Ethan would be the hardest thing I’d witness in my lifetime.
I was wrong.
There’s no way anything could be more painful than witnessing my mother wither away to skin and bones in a matter of weeks, my father scramble and fail to find a treatment, and my brother fixate on his studies to avoid reality.
Hardest of all, is staring at Mom’s casket minutes before it lowers into the cold, hard earth, knowing her body is inside, butshe’sgone. She didn’t believe in an afterlife, and I don’t know if I believe in one, either, but I know this sinking feeling in my chest will live with me forever. There’s nothing I can do or say or will into existence to reverse what has happened.
Instead of a wedding, we got a funeral, and instead of life, Mom got death.
It’s not fair.
My gaze locks on the white roses as family and friends place them on top of the casket—a stark contrast of white against a black day. Dad has finished his goodbye. Now it’s our turn. It feels like everyone’s eyes are on us as Ethan and I place the final two roses.
Ethan whispers something under his breath. I only catch the word “sorry” before he steps away.
“I love you, Mom,” I say, my voice hoarse.
Those four words are all I can manage. I took so much for granted, living a life without loss or hardship. Mom created magic for me and Ethan. Now, there’s nobody here to make magic for us. We’ve been adults for four years now, but nothing could’ve prepared me for losing Mom.
A final prayer is offered. Dad insisted on having a Catholic priest here, even though we never went to church. Maybe he finds comfort in it, but I don’t. We’re told we can stay to watch the casket lower into the ground, but most families choose to leave before that happens.
Dad says we’re leaving, and he’s right; I can’t do this anymore. The hourlong drive to the luncheon is brutally silent and lacking in tears. I rub my forehead, a dull headache pulsing behind my temples, as though every ounce of energy has been stolen from me. I know I’m not the only one---we’re all emotionally spent at this point. The luncheon is being held at the Laurence’s Manhattan apartment, which feels wrong somehow. Mom loved to entertain, and being Mom, she planned the whole thing.
I want the hell out of this city, but where would I go? The Nantucket house is tainted with her death, too.
Just get through today, get back to school, and finish the semester.
Not that I give a shit about school right now, but when I asked Dad if I could take a leave of absence, he wouldn’t hearit. He said life must go on, and quitting school would only disappoint Mom.
But Mom isn’t here, and that’s the fucking point.
