Page 97 of Then Came You

Row gives me a half smile, which is more than I expect after losing her sister. Picking up her plate, she licks the remnants of condensed milk off, like a cat would.

“I’m not saying I forgive either of you, or if I want to be in your lives at all, but thanks for letting me know about Tori. Pass on my condolences.”

I sigh again. It may as well be my signature response at this point. I watch as Row props her head in her hands, overwhelmed with another wave of emotion.

The phone goes dead.

I’m shocked by Zee’s lack of empathy, but my girl is who I’m more worried about, so all my energy is honed in on her. “Let’s go home, baby girl.” I clear her plate, placing it in the dishwasher before rubbing circles on her back

♥?

I haven’t heard from Zee again. I texted him, telling him about the funeral, but it’s anyone’s guess if he’ll show up today.

The past few days have been manic, with getting arrangements in order, but somehow, between Sydney, Alex, and me, we worked miracles.

Getting Row ready and out of the house was particularly torturous.

I could hear her suffering in every sob and see it in every streak of mascara that ran down her face, leaving a black line in its wake.

I felt her suffering in her trembling hands that failed to button up the delicate lace top, the same hands that I held as I walked her to my car.

She didn’t want to ride in an ostentatious limo - her words, not mine - but I’m not sure my sports car is any better, given how much attention it draws.

Folding herself into the seat, she looks dwarfed as she crumples into herself. It’s almost as if she’s trying to blend in with the interior and not be seen.

The drive is as sombre as you'd expect, and while I’m usually pretty good at detecting what she’s thinking or feeling, today she’s a complete mystery.

She gave strict instructions for the coffin not to be wheeled or carried in, and for it to already be at the front when we arrive. I can see the hearse is empty, meaning we’re only minutes away from beginning.

Again, we won’t be walking down the aisle, but instead entering through the side entrance and dashing to the seats in the front row.

I’m not sure at all who has been invited, but I know at least three people from my side will be in attendance - Dad, Alex, and Syd. As much as I know Row would have appreciated Haven being there, it wasn’t worth stoking the fire with Avalon.

As for Zee, I’m hoping for a miracle.

“This is really it,” Tink says glumly, her head turned toward the window as she sees dribs and drabs of people walking through the church doors.

I grasp her hand, making sure to feel her pulse point on her wrist. “I’ve got you, Tink.”

She squeezes me back, but it’s like she’s trying to eject physical pain from her body.

“We should go.”

Wordlessly, I press the stop button on my car, push the door buttons, and watch as they ascend like angel wings. Row still hasn’t moved by the time I round her side. I stand patiently, scanning the area as I wait for her to be ready. The day is as drizzly as it is dreary. Even the gloomy weather knew today wasn’t meant to happen. The only vibrancy standing out in this monochromatic surrounding is Row’s lipstick-pink hair. She wanted to make the rash decision to dye it black last night, but there was no way I was allowing that to happen when I knew how much this pink hair meant to her and Tori.

A while later, with Row barely standing upright, we stagger into the church from the side. Row’s head is ducked down, avoiding the impressive crowd that has swelled in the pews.

I see Trish, and what I assume are every hairdresser colleague based on their eclectic hairstyles, takes up three rows, while another five behind them are filled with nurses and doctors based on their uniforms. I notice Dad, Alex, and Syd are also taking up their row, with the remainder dotted with familiar faces from work, Jake and his family, and various friends young and old of Tori’s.

It isn’t a surprise the infectious impact these Atkins women have with so many, but I am surprised at how everyone has come together in solidarity. I wish Row would lift her chin to see her community, her tribe, rally around her.

When she reaches the end of the pew, she huddles herself into the corner. I sit down next to her, waiting for the priest to begin. I’ve never been so glad for our relationship to be out in the open as I am in this moment. I can freely hold, hug, and kiss her without anyone scandalously finding out, and it’s the smallest of reprieves for me right now.

Doing exactly what I want, I extend my arm over her shoulder and pull her body toward me, so her head is resting on the crook of my neck. As the priest starts the service, I kiss her intermittently on the head every so often.

A few minutes in, I hear the squeak of the doors behind me. I don’t turn around, already knowing it’s just a few latecomers clamouring in. It’ll be hard to find a seat, but that isn’t my problem.

The priest pauses, waiting for them to take a seat. It’s an extended period of silence, making me think they’re trying to shuffle people down. It isn’t until I hear footsteps coming closer that I start to think it’s an unwanted family member of Row’s, and they’re about to make a scene. I’m begging that her Mum hasn’t just appeared out of the blue.

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