People have walked out of my life over the years for a number of reasons, but I’ve never lost anyone.
It’s strange, this notion that no matter how much time passes or where you go, there are people you will never see again. Because they’re dead.
My father is dead. My father is dead. My father is dead.
The following twenty-four hours after my mother’s call don’t feel real.
I know I got to the airport only because a taxi dropped me off, and I know I arrived at Warlington because my brother was waiting for me at the gate, but I know little else.
My brain shuts down, my body gives up, and my heart…
I don’t think it’s working anymore.
A soft knock on my childhood bedroom door wakes me up from the state of nothingness I’ve been in for the past few hours. James’s texts sit unanswered on my phone, but I can’t bring myself to feel bad about it.
James: Did you get to Warlington safely?
James: Just wanted to send you a picture of Shadow and Mist. They say hi.
James: I’m so sorry, Maddie. I’m sorry you’re going through this. I’m here if you need anything at all.
He left me at the restaurant. He said he was always going to be there, and then he wasn’t. His reasons, his explanations… They don’t mean much. Not when I can’t even feel my own heart right now.
Him leaving isn’t something I didn’t expect, anyway. I’ll survive without him.
But do you want to?
I don’t say a word, but my brother walks into my room all the same and closes the door behind him.
It doesn’t bother me. Nothing does at this point.
Sammy doesn’t speak. He only lies with me in bed, above the covers, and holds my hand in his tattooed, warm one.
My phone pings again. I ignore it.
My brother squeezes my fingers.
After five minutes, or maybe five hours, he asks, “How are you feeling?”
“Empty.”
And there’s that.
Lila is the next one to open my bedroom door. Much like her father, she doesn’t say a word as she approaches us. And when my niece, this little person I would give my life for without question, wraps her arms around my neck and presses her cheek against my own, I break down.
The tears fall, but my father’s name isn’t written on them.
Instead, I cry for the person I wanted, I needed, but never got.
I cry for Lila, who has an amazing dad who loves her more than life itself, and I cry because I don’t ever want her to lose him.
And then I cry because I hate crying for my father, that vile man who doesn’t deserve an ounce of my sadness.
“It’s okay to cry, Maddsy.” Lila soothes me like she can read my mind. Given who her mother is, it wouldn’t surprise me one bit.
I hear my brother planting a kiss on her hair. “Let me talk to your auntie for a moment, little sunshine.”
“Okay, Daddy.” She kisses my tears away. “I love you, Maddsy. You’re my favorite ever.”
A half sob, half chuckle escapes me. “I love you more, Lila.”
With one last kiss on my cheek and one on my brother’s, she hurries out of the room and shuts the door behind her.
My head finds the space between Sammy’s arm and his chest, and I settle there in silence.
“I don’t want to cry for him,” I finally let out. My voice sounds all raspy and wrong, and I hate the weakness in it.
“It’s okay if you do,” he says, but it doesn’t make it better.
Our last meeting haunts me. I saw him for the first time in seventeen years in a dark parking lot after he stalked me for weeks, and now I will never see him again.
Because he’s dead.
My father is dead. My father is dead. My father is dead.
“He…” I start, not really wanting to bring this up, but it’s now or never. Now, when my heart feels nothing, I know it can take the pain. “He said he came back years ago. He said you didn’t let him see me.”
I feel my brother’s muscles tense under my body. “He did.” A pause. “You were around seven. He came by the tattoo shop and demanded to see you. He was drunk, maybe something else, too, and I told him to fuck off. Threatened him. He couldn’t do anything because I had custody of you, so he never bothered to try again.”
I nod against his chest. “I-I’m not upset with you. You did the right thing.”
My brother’s lips brush my forehead in a faint kiss. “I vowed to take care of you the very day you were born, and that man lost the privilege to see you when he left. When he came back… I could tell he wasn’t healthy. He wasn’t okay in the head, and I refused to let you see him like that. Maybe if the circumstances had been different…”
He runs a hand through his dark hair, his chest heaving with a deep sigh.
“You did the right thing,” I repeat, and not only to make him feel better. Not so deep down, I know my father would’ve abused the privilege of seeing me to hurt me again.
“Thank you for understanding. It means a lot to me.”
It sucks. It truly sucks that my brother, abandoned by his own father before he was even born, had to witness his little sister being abandoned by her own too. And it hurts so deeply that Sammy, who has one of the most beautiful souls I’ve ever met, has to go through this mess with me.
“I hate crying for him,” I whisper. “I hated him, Sammy. I hate him.”
I fall apart in his arms, but he’s there to pick up the pieces. He always is.
Now that I’ve started talking, I can’t seem to stop. “Does it make me a bad person to hate him in death? A bad daughter?” I ask, not sure if I want to hear the answer. I sniffle but don’t wipe the tears away. “Is it wrong that I don’t feel a difference even if he’s gone? He wasn’t there for me before, and he will never get to be now.”
Sammy hugs me closer. “You’re not his daughter, Maddie. You never were—not in the way that matters. You might have his genes, but you’re mine. Ours. You’ve never owed him anything, and you sure as fuck won’t start owing him now. The fact that he’s dead doesn’t invalidate your hatred, and it doesn’t erase the fact that he was a fuckup who never deserved you in the first place.”
Burying my face in the inked rose on his neck, I weep.
I sob, break down and pick myself back up, knowing my family will always be there for me.
“I’m so sorry,” I hiccup.
His hand cups the back of my head. “What for?”
The words pour out directly from my heart. For once, I don’t want to hold them back.
“I’m sorry that you had to raise me because my own parents couldn’t, and I’m sorry that you and Grace almost didn’t make it because I was a burden. And I’m sorry that you couldn’t have more children because you had to take care of me even after I moved out, because I injured my ankle and flushed my future down the drain. I’m so sorry, Sammy.” I stop, breathless, my voice cracking with the last word.
My brother wipes the tears from my eyes with his palms, just like he always used to do when I was a kid. So full of care and love, it only makes me want to cry harder.
“Breathe with me, princess. Inhale. Exhale,” he instructs. We repeat the motions until I calm down. “How long have you felt this way?”
My lips tremble as I speak, and so does my voice. “A very long time.”
I can’t bring myself to talk about my former therapist. Not right now. Not when James…
God, James.
Why did he have to let me down? Why can’t I shake off the feeling of betrayal?
My brother curses under his breath and searches my eyes, worry plastered all over his features. “Look at me, Maddie. Listen to me.”
I nod, my chest heaving with painful sobs.
“You’re my sister, my blood, my everything. You were never a burden, okay? Never. Since you were born, all I wanted was to keep you all to myself because I knew nobody would take better care of you than your big brother. You gave me a purpose—you still do, just like Lila and Grace. You three are the only ones who matter to me, and you could never be a burden to anybody in this family. You could never be when we love you so much.
“Grace and I didn’t have more kids because we didn’t want to, Maddie, not because of you. Money wasn’t the reason, nor was it a lack of love to give. We felt like our family was complete, and that decision had nothing to do with you and everything to do with us as a couple, okay? You’re one of the most incredible people I’ve ever known, and I’m not just saying that because you’re my sister. You’re responsible, fun, generous, driven, mature, a fucking angel, Maddie.
“You didn’t flush your future down the drain because it’s only about to start, and I’m gonna be there, cheering you on every step of the way. You’ll always have a home with us. You’ll always have our support, in any way you need, because we know you don’t take it for granted and we know you want to make a life for yourself—and you’re doing it.
“I couldn’t have asked for a better sister. I love you and I’m proud of you, you hear me? We all are, and I will remind you every single day for the rest of my life if I have to.”
By the time his speech is done, I’m a mess of tears again.
Deep down I knew all of it, if only because he’s shown me all my life that it’s true, but I needed to hear it from him.
Today of all days, I needed my brother.
“I love you,” I say against his skin, my voice muffled. “I love you all so much. I love you.”
He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a big bear hug that glues all my broken pieces back together.
“Cry for as long as you need, princess. I’m not going anywhere, and Lila would love nothing more than to cuddle with you all day long.”
I chuckle, my heart feeling lighter already.
“Tomorrow, at the funeral, I don’t want you to hold back. Cry, break something, scream, anything. But allow your heart to bleed because that’s the only way to heal.”
Healing.
It’s been a long time coming for me.
✽✽✽
Attending my father’s funeral sits at the very top of the list of things I never, ever thought I would do.
I mean, up until a few weeks ago, I didn’t know for sure if he was still alive, if he was still in the country, or what even was going on with him. And I didn’t care either.
My talk with Sammy last night helped immensely in the guilt department. I’m not ashamed to say his words are the sole reason I can stand straight in this cold room of the funeral home, look at my father’s closed casket, and admit to myself that I’ve never missed him, never loved him, and I’m not going to start now.
But the pain is still there, lingering in my heart, and at first, I don’t understand why.
My father has never been a real part of my life—more like an abstract figure I longed for until I realized my brother embodied every single quality a father should have.
And I couldn’t have asked to grow up in a better family.
Better Place is a misleading name for this funeral home, I think to myself as I take in every detail around me, given how it sits in the sketchiest part of Warlington.
Who organized my father’s funeral? Grandparents I’ve never met? An aunt or an uncle I didn’t even know I had? Why did they choose this place?
Who are all these people?
The service won’t start for another half an hour, but this room is crowded. There are men and women here, most around my father’s age, and they’re…crying. Some are holding back the tears; others just stand solemnly.
What the hell is this?
A few people have come up to me since we arrived, asking how I knew Pete. Clearly, my name wasn’t one he mentioned around. So I simply said he was a family friend, and that seemed to be enough for his…friends? He had friends.
Friends who had no clue he had a daughter.
Whatever. I can’t bring myself to care anymore.
I’ve been here for five minutes, and I’m already overwhelmed. Maybe it was a mistake to come, no matter how much Sammy insisted I may need the closure. I’m about to turn around to go outside and find him, Grace, and Lila, when her strong perfume invades my nostrils.
“He wasn’t a good man,” my mother says in a firm voice, eyes on his casket. She stands still, rigid, but not solemnly. “Living with him wasn’t easy, but I don’t regret it. He gave me you, after all.”
Tears threaten to come for the first time today. She shouldn’t hold this power over me, a mother who couldn’t have strayed further from that role, but I can’t deny that my heart doesn’t hold the same kind of resentment for her as it does for my father.
My mom was a victim of her own circumstances. Normally I wouldn’t feel sympathy for someone who didn’t make an effort to be more present once she got sober, but I’m tired of fighting the past.
It’s clear that my mother has fought hard to get her life back on track, even if she still isn’t the best at rekindling relationships that should’ve never been broken in the first place.
Unlike my father, though, maybe she does deserve a second chance.
But it won’t be today.
“How did he pass?” I ask her softly.
“He was driving under the influence and crashed into a building. Nobody else was hurt.”
Good. In that situation, nobody else deserved to die but him.
“Under the influence of what?”
My mother slides me a quick look before letting out a tired sigh. “Of the same crap that made him lose his jobs every couple of months when you were younger, Maddie. Cocaine, maybe something else. He got himself involved with the wrong crowd before we met. He was dealing drugs when you were a child, but I didn’t know this, and then… I…”
She opens her mouth like she wants to say something else, but the words die in her throat. Instead, her bony fingers find my hand and squeeze it.
I let her because I need this too.
“I’m sorry for everything, Maddie. I will always regret what I made you go through. I hope someday, when you’re ready, you’ll want to have a conversation with me. A real one.”
Tears prickle the back of my eyes, and I nod. Because somewhere not so deep in my heart, I know my mother deserves at least that. A conversation in which the new versions of us can have a chance to meet.
“I will call you,” I whisper, my voice too husky, and I swear her whole body sags with relief. “But not today. I…need time.”
“Yes. Of course.” She squeezes my hand again. “I love you, Maddie. Thank you for giving me a chance.”
I don’t say it back, but I think she understands I can’t. Not yet, but maybe someday.
“I’m going to look for your brother,” she says next, and I like the new resolve in her voice. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her sound so confident. “I owe him an apology too.”
My mother leaves me at the casket, and only then do I give my tears permission to fall.
This is too much all at once. Too many conflicting emotions clinging to my poor heart, already shattered enough, and I don’t want these people to think I’m shedding a single tear for him.
Without thinking, I make a beeline for one of the doors in the room, which leads to an empty hallway. There’s a single wooden chair a few feet away, and I sink down on it and bury my face in my hands, letting it all out.
I don’t even know why I’m crying.
My mom, my dad, myself.
Everyone at once.
He killed himself in a car accident because he was a fucking junkie, and it makes me sob harder to think I could’ve ended up like him if my brother hadn’t stepped in.
My mother could’ve ended up like him, too, dead or worse, if I hadn’t tripped over that empty bottle of whiskey that night and gotten a head injury. If I hadn’t hurt myself and gone to live with my brother, maybe she would’ve never gone to rehab.
Would I have ended up dead as well? Consumed by alcohol and drugs? Abused and alone?
A loud sob tears up my heart, and maybe that’s why I don’t hear the approaching footsteps.
But I hear that voice.
“Maddie.”
