Page 4 of New Growth
“His whole life revolved around his girls. To him, the sun rose for us and set so that we could rest. I’ve learned to love myself through him loving me. I am who I am because of him. I don’t know how we’resupposed to do this without him, and I don’t know how to fill the space he left behind. But I do know that he wouldn’t want us to fall apart. He’d want us to laugh and share stories to remember him the way he was. So, that is what we should do in his honor.”
I glanced at Ma, who gave me the faintest nod of encouragement but then a sharp look that said, ‘Get down before you make a scene.’
“I’ll miss you, Daddy,” I finished, my voice trembling. “We all will. Goodbye.”
As I stepped down from the podium, the tears finally came, spilling down my cheeks in hot, silent streams. Jonathan was there to catch me, his arms wrapping around me as I buried my face in his shoulder.
“Come on, pull yourself together,” he said as a small command. “Don’t embarrass yourself or the family.”
The rest of the service passed in a blur—more stories, more prayers, more whispered condolences. I couldn’t focus. I needed to get out of there, but I felt so obligated to suffer through it.
When it finally was over, people began to file out of the church, stopping to speak to Ma or to offer me a comforting pat on the shoulder.
Ryan didn’t wait. She was already outside by the time I made it to the steps, pacing back and forth like a lioness, ready to maul me.
I sighed deeply. Daddy wasn’t even in the ground yet.
“Ryan—” I tried.
She whirled around, her eyes blazing.
“Don’t,” she snapped, her voice shaking with anger. “Don’t you dare try to talk to me right now!”
I froze, my heart sinking.
“I can’t believe you got up there and sang Daddy’s praises about how much he loved us. It’s your fault we’re even standing here!” she spat, her words cutting like knives. I knew she meant every word, and she was just getting started.
“You knew he wasn’t feeling well, and you didn’t even check on him! The doctors said his blood pressure was through the roof when he got there! You let him eat and drink himself into that casket!” People began to stop and stare, but she didn’t care as she continued her verbal assault. “What kind of caretaker are you? You made a big deal about being the one who looked after him, but you were too busy, like you always are—”
“Ryan! Enough,” Ma’s voice cut through the chaos. She stood at the top of the steps, her face pale but resolute. “This isn’t the time.”
“But Mama!” Ryan argued, making Ma cut her off.
“I said, enough.” Her tone was as sharp as her expression. “We are going to have some friends and family over for dinner, and you two are going to behave yourselves.”
I didn’t even do anything.
“Do I make myself clear?” she pressed.
My eyes dropped to the ground. “Yes, ma’am.”
Had it been me who made a scene, my mother would’ve demanded I apologize to everyone within earshot of my outburst. But since it was Ryan, she was allowed grace. Ryan glared at me one last time, her eyes filled with a pain that mirrored my own, before storming off down the path.
Jonathan appeared by my side, and his arm tightened around me, but it didn’t help. As the crowd dispersed, I stayed rooted to the spot, staring after her until she disappeared from view.
It’s your fault.The words echoed in my mind, over and over, until they were all I could hear.
?
Four hours after Daddy’s funeral, I stood in his kitchen.
I glanced over at Ryan’s mixing bowl, cringing at the way she dumped sugar into the cornmeal without a second thought.
“After the sugar, you need to add butter,” I reminded her.
Her shoulders tensed. “I know how to make fucking cornbread, Elliot.”
I bit back a sigh. She made the kitchen a disaster zone—flour dusted the counter, vegetable peels littered the sink, and the scent of something slightly over-seasoned thickened the air.
