welcome with us though, Lexi. He’s just hurting.” His eyes go to his son then, filled with pain. “Don’t give up on him. He blames himself, and he’s a mess. He needs you now more than ever, but he won’t make it easy.” He squeezes my arm and takes his wife’s hand and heads down the pews to Tyler. As soon as he reaches his side, Tyler stands and they embrace. Tyler buries his head in his dad’s shoulder, his back shaking.
Swallowing, I turn away before I start to sob, and instead, take a seat on the back pew alone. Others mingle, talking softly. I hear the words tragedy, so sudden, stricken, and so much more. Each word makes me hunch my shoulders for even being here.
Because I’m not here for Justin, I’m here for Tyler.
Eventually, the church fills and everyone takes their seats as the vicar walks to the front to start the service. He stops at Tyler and his dad, who are still standing and talking. He shakes their hands and speaks for a moment before stepping up to the podium at the front.
Tyler turns to look where to sit and our eyes clash. Those usually dark orbs are lightened with grief. He has bags under his eyes, and his face is drawn and sagging in exhaustion and pain. He looks nothing like my Tyler.
He looks broken.
For a moment, everything else fades away, everything but our locked gazes.
A stare that tells me a million things. I see his pain, his grief, his guilt…and his acceptance. He thinks this is what he deserves. He’s resigned. Then he turns away and sits, freeing me of his gaze. I sag, breathing heavily as tears drip down my cheeks, while my heart breaks all over again.
We might as well have been strangers, not lovers, not the man who knows my fears and dreams. Who held me when I cried, when I was happy. Who made me laugh, who supported and loved me.
I am nothing, just another ghost in this place.
He turned away so easily, while I’m struggling not to run to him, to beg him to take me back, to forgive me. Blame me, hate me, anything apart from this coldness. I’d take his anger, his pain. I’d let him paint it across my body like a declaration.
But I stay locked in my seat, head bowed, while I try to control my emotions as the vicar reads from the bible.
I miss nearly all of the service, I’m so lost in my pain, but when they stand to sing, I do too, mumbling over the lyrics. When they start to file from the church, I follow numbly with my arms wrapped around myself.
We head down the marked path around the church, through some iron gates, and to the cemetery next door. I follow the procession to the plot under a tree. The soil is already turned. Obviously, he’s already buried there. There’s no headstone yet. The vicar circles us and begins to speak again as I search the crowd. I nod at his dad and then watch Tyler. He’s standing alone at the base of the grave, staring at it. His face is locked in pain, each line causing a wave to wash through me until I can’t stop myself.
I move across the ground towards him, stumbling as I walk, unable to look away to see where I’m going. He’s the center of my world, and I have to get to him and help him, support him. Make this better if I can.
No parent should ever have to bury their child, to watch their life end and feel the broken shatters of it remaining in their chest like a constant reminder.
I reach his side. He flinches but doesn’t even glance up to see who it is. But I know he senses me the way we always sense each other. His arm hangs at his side, and I slide closer, pressing my hand to his. I squeeze, trying to let him know without words I’m here.
I’m his.
For a moment, nothing happens, then slowly, ever so slowly, his hand curls around mine. My heart starts to soar, and those broken shards begin to knit back together. All from one touch.
But a split-second later, he pushes my hand away, shaking off my touch, and without a look at anyone, he turns and storms away. Those fragile sections of my heart crumble all over again, dropping down through my body and leaving gaping wounds behind. I stare