Page 5 of Letters of Faith
I need him to stop. I need this all to stop.
“He’s gone.”
The words are out, ripping from my throat and delivering a punch to my sternum, taking all the air I had left.
As the edges of my vision fade to black, I hear Grayson say, “I’m coming, Georgia. I’m coming.”
______________________
“Georgia, we need you to make a decision,” the funeral director says kindly.
That’s all I’ve been doing—making decisions. What should he wear? What flowers for the coffin? Speaking of—is this coffin okay? Nate wanted to talk about these decisions before he passed, but I couldn’t stand the thought of it. We put it off, always waiting for a better time, and now I’m out of time.
Question after question—thrown at me so fast that it makes my head spin, and that’s not even the worst part. No, the worst part is that I have to consider everyone’s opinion when deciding.
Nate was loved—is still loved—and because of that, people have opinions, but I can’t please everyone, specifically his younger sister. I’ve never been able to please her.
If I like pink, she likes purple. If I say yes, she says no.
Right now, just once, I wish we could be on the same page.
“What am I deciding again?” I ask.
Harper’s laugh is sardonic as she crosses her arms across her chest and rolls her eyes to the ceiling.
I’ve been in a haze since Nate died—unable to concentrate on anything, and her attitude doesn’t help. I want to lie in bed, curl into a ball, and cry, not put up with her snarky remarks. Losing mytemper won’t benefit anyone, though, and she’s hurting just as much as I am. We’re just dealing with it in different ways.
She’s mean, and I’m—checked out.
Grayson, who is sitting beside me, narrows his eyes at Harper, and I give a subtle shake of my head. He hasn’t left my side since I called him with the news. He’s slept on the couch at my house every night, sending my mom and dad home to rest until they return the next morning. Everyone’s waiting for me to break, and the truth is, I am too.
The funeral director looks between Harper and me, his eyes tightening as he tries to navigate the awkwardness.
“You–uh—I mean, we were deciding the speakers for the visitation and burial,” he says, eyes continuing to bounce between us.
Harper’s husband, Cole, sits beside her, arms crossed over his chest, looking angry at the world. Though, I’m not sure what he has to be angry at. He and Nate weren’t even close. Nate expressed his opinion of the man many times to Harper before they got married, and none of what he had to say was good. It’s likely that Cole’s angry that he has to be here in the first place—despite the fact that his wife’s brother just passed away. He’s not a fan of anything that puts him out.
Nate’s mom sits on the other side of Cole, but unlike her daughter, she has no opinions.
I lean forward so I can speak to her. She’s staring at the wall directly in front of her, her face blank.
“Ellie,” I say, calling her attention to me. “Who do you think should speak?”
I love Ellie, and while Nate was my husband, he was her son first.
“We should ask Coach Jones. He’s always said Nate was his favorite player,” Harper pipes up.
I see the muscle in Grayson’s jaw tick out of the corner of my eye.
“She didn’t ask you, Harper,” he says through clenched teeth. “Sheasked your mom.”
If Harper dislikes me, she despises Grayson for reasons I can’t comprehend. The two are more alike than they like to think. Nate and Harper’s dad left when they were in high school. Nate was quiet about it. He dealt with it and moved on, but Harper was like Grayson. She held on to that pain, letting it fester. The difference is Harper didn’t let anyone in, while Grayson had me and Nate. Nate tried to be there for Harper, too, but she was too lost in her anger.
“Why are you even here, Grayson,” Harper throws back. “It’s not like you’re family.”
Wincing, I turn to Grayson, ready to throw myself between them if he decides to throttle her, but when my eyes land on him, he’s stone-cold, hands clenched in his lap. The only inclination that he heard her is the way his icy blue eyes narrow by just a hair.
I turn back to Harper and hear Grayson say, “Say what you will, Harper. I’m here for Georgia.”
