I am quiet, not wanting to admit he is right. I wanted Haylee to stay with me, but she refused. She couldn’t stand being in the apartment just for the night before heading back home.
“Okay. I need a few minutes though.”
He nods and slowly stands up and retreats to his room, I assume to finish packing his things for the next few days. I allow a few more tears to fall while lying on the bed before finding strength deep down to pull myself together. I grab Emmett’s duffle bag out of the closet and throw some shirts and a few hoodies in there. I know these items won’t always smell like him, but until they don’t, I will have to savor his scent and pretend that it is him wrapped around me. Again, with the torturing of myself, by myself.
I look over to the desk where my early acceptance letter sits. I go to grab it and hesitate. If it weren’t for that letter, Emmett might not have left the library when he did to come here to meet me. I crumple the letter and the envelope and throw them to the other side of the room. I gather the duffle bag and throw it over my shoulder along with my purse. I take a quick look around this room and remember all the good and bad times we had here—more good than bad, but hey, we weren’t perfect. We still fought at times. But the makeup sex…the makeup sex always made the fight worth it. Whoever was at fault for the fight was usually the one worshiping the other’s body. For the most part, he was usually in the wrong, but I didn’t complain.
I take a deep breath knowing what awaits me when we arrive home. Scared of the unknown and the new life that awaits, I close the bedroom door behind me and meet Zach at the front door.
I wake up fully drenched in sweat, screaming out for Emmett, tears running down my cheeks. I want him to come barging through the door and wrap his arms around me, running his hands along my hair and telling me it was just a bad dream. But no, it’s not a dream. I am living in a real-life nightmare—a world I’m not ready for. A world which Emmett is no longer in. How is that possible?
The past few days have been a blur. Zach basically dragged me out of the apartment to come back here to say goodbye. Goodbye. How do I say goodbye to him? I can’t. I refuse to—then that means he is actually gone.
Today is his funeral. I would say it’s the worst day of my life, but no, that winner was crowned four days ago when the love of my life was torn from this world forever. I pull my knees to my chest, wearing Emmett’s UPenn hoodie that still smells of him. How long will his scent be able to stay with me? I don’t hide the tears as they fall.
Looking around the room, I see Em everywhere. How can I not? We’d been together since we were thirteen and a part of each other’s life since we were born. I see the mirror hanging next to my closet where I would be putting the finishing touches on my outfit when he would wrap his strong arms around me from behind and tell me how beautiful I looked. I see the window Em once broke while throwing rocks one night to
get my attention—he had thought it would be romantic, however it turned out to be pretty expensive. I look at the bulletin board above my desk and see the photos of endless memories. I see the rug we would sit on attempting to do homework that nine out of ten times would lead to a heavy make-out session.
There is a light knock on the door, and I close my eyes imagining it’s Emmett about to walk in, but instead I am pulled to reality when I hear my mother’s soft voice as she opens it. “Sweetheart, we will need to go soon. I laid your dress out on the back of the chair. Do you want me to help you get ready?”
I shake my head but make no attempt at getting up. Looking at my mother, I see her eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot—I am sure a mirrored image of my own—and her shoulders are tense. Not only has she been trying to manage her household falling apart these past few days, but her own best friend is burying her son today. Emmett was my mother’s godson. I don’t know how she can be strong for everyone right now. I just want to climb back under the covers and forget this whole thing today. However, I know that if I don’t get up now, she won’t leave me alone, and that’s all I want…to be left alone, like I will be for the rest of my life.
I swing my legs over the bed and try to find strength to stand. Mom walks toward me and places a kiss on my temple. “It will be okay,” she says into my hair.
I shrug her off and rise to my feet. “No it won’t. It never will be. You can’t make this better with words or anything—no one can.” Walking over toward the dress, I see she picked a simple black dress I had worn once to my grandma’s funeral two years ago. I thought I would never get through it, but Emmett had held my hand the entire time and was my rock. Who would be my rock today? I stare at the dress, hoping my eyes can make it disappear while I hear my mother’s footsteps walk toward the door and she quietly shuts it behind her.
I’m not exactly sure how I get myself ready, but I am now looking in the mirror fully dressed in my black dress that lands just above my knee and black flats. Mom had set out a pair of black tights to put on since it’s winter, but I didn’t put them on. I’m sure I should have since it’s cold, but the past few days I haven’t felt anything. I am so completely numb that I thought maybe being freezing in the cold would force me to feel even the littlest something.
There is another knock on the door. “Come in,” I say softly. My eyes rise from the floor up the mirror to meet Zach’s. His eyes are full of pain and sadness like mine. I give him a mix of a forced smile and a pout; it has been kind of like my go-to expression when I am forced to be around people. It helps in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, but fuck, who are we kidding, the tears haven’t really stopped lately. I don’t have to hide in front of my brother though, of all people. He knows the pain I’m in.
Walking up behind me, he places his hands on my shoulders and stares at me in the mirror. “Dad said it’s time to leave and pick up the Hankses before we head to the funeral.”
I nod, but again I don’t move. My shoulders begin to tremble. Zach spins me around so fast I think I might have gotten whiplash. “I don’t know how to do this,” I cry into his chest. His arms tighten around me. “I can’t breathe, Zach. I don’t know how to be without him—his laugh, his smile, his love.”
Zach lets me break down in his arms for a few moments. The only sound in the room is my loud sobs. Zach pulls me away from him for a moment, and I can see tears streaming down his cheeks before he places his forehead on mine. “One day at a time, Dani. We’re going to take it one day at a time. And we’re going to do it together, okay?”
I have no words, so I just nod my head. He leans in to kiss my forehead and grabs one of my hands. “Come on, let’s go get this over with.”
My brother is hurting just as much. I hate this for him, I hate this for me, I hate this for the Hankses and my parents and for anyone who had met or would have met Emmett.
The ride over to the funeral home is silent. Dad and Mom are in the front of the minivan, Mr. Brian and Ms. Natalie are in the middle row staring out the window at nothing, and Zach, Haylee, and I are in the very back row. I sit in the middle, and they both hold my hands. We would be going from the funeral home to the church followed by the cemetery riding in the limo.
Once we arrive at the funeral home, we all exit the van and switch to the limo to be church-bound. The last time I was in a limo was prom last spring. It was one of the best nights of my life. I’d danced the night away with Emmett and our friends, and then we’d spent the night in a hotel room together, which included a smorgasbord of breakfast foods delivered to our room the next morning by room service. I smile sadly at the memory, and I don’t even realize we’ve pulled up to St. Vincent’s, the church that we grew up at.
I take a deep breath and squeeze Zach and Haylee’s hands, trying to find the strength to get out of the limo and walk into the church knowing that Em awaits us to say goodbye. Haylee looks over at me with tears in her eyes and running down her cheeks and attempts a small smile at me. Her smile punches me in the gut. She looks so much like Emmett, I almost can’t bear to look at her. They both had the most beautiful blue eyes—we’re talking like Caribbean ocean blue; they were eyes anyone would have no problem getting lost in. In fact, I got lost looking into Emmett’s eyes many times. They also had the same smile, so when Haylee gave me even the weakest smile, I saw Em and my heart broke just a little bit more.
I feel the limo beginning to cave in, and I need to escape. I quickly release their hands and jump up and out the door to try to catch my breath. I wrap my arms around my waist in hopes no one will try to comfort me.
I am so sick of hearing “I’m sorry for your loss. He was a great guy. I will miss him. He’s at peace now.” What the fuck do all these people know? He was at peace here on earth too.
I stop in the vestibule of the church when I see the casket straight ahead. No, I can’t do this. The only time I was supposed to be in a church walking toward Emmett was when we were to get married and promise to spend the rest of our lives loving each other. Not now, not like this, not until we were old and gray and had plenty of babies, grandbabies, and possibly great-grandbabies—definitely not at eighteen.
Zach puts his hand on my lower back to gently escort me into the church. As we walk up the aisle, all eyes are on me—“the one Emmett Hanks left behind.” How am I going to make it through this? We take our seats in the first row along with Haylee and her parents. My fists are wound so tight, I almost think blood might start dripping from my palms from where my nails are digging into my skin as the funeral begins. Lisa Lois’s version of “Hallelujah” plays on the speakers throughout the church as the minister, Father John Ryan, makes his way to the altar.
In death, the same as in life, I can’t remove my eyes from Emmett, who is lying in the mahogany casket just feet away from me. Even with a closed casket, I can sense his presence. I want to run up to him and tell him, “Wake up, baby. Please just open your eyes, joke’s over.” I picture him opening his eyes and grabbing my arms yelling, “Gotcha!” followed by his laugh. Shit I loved his laugh—a laugh I will never hear again.
As the music gradually gets louder, I feel my strength quickly fading. This is real life. I am supposed to say goodbye, and I’m not ready. The trembling begins in my shoulders followed by my hands shaking. I can’t do this. The tears begin to fall again, and I feel my brother’s arm grip tightly around my shoulder and pull me to his chest. Haylee grabs my hand and squeezes so tight she could almost break my hand, but I would welcome that pain, just so that I can feel anything else besides this gut-wrenching ache.