The Churning Wake

Chapter Nineteen - Then

The day after Lex's funeral, we buried Beanie's Daddy. Jen had requested that the service be small and private, so it was. Fourteen people sat in the tiny little room, with all the chairs arranged in a circle, so you could see everyone, and everyone could see you. Me and Beanie; Leo; Jen and her husband; Kayla and Ella; this girl named Rylie that everyone called Raven, because of her dark cloud of black hair and shy watchfulness; the pastor who was supposed to be in charge; Jen's sister, Cole's Aunt Kathy, and her wife, Lydia; Clay and Calla Lancelot; and Lizzie Altobelli. It was a lot of crying females, and the guys staring awkwardly at the floor, as if they couldn't say what they wanted to, on account of some unknown fear.

The pastor spoke for about ten minutes, and then we just sat around, telling stories about Cole and smiling at each other reassuringly. They had taken his casket straight into the hearse, we never had a viewing of his body before the burial. My last memory of him, of his physical body unbroken, was the night he stormed out of my house, and we broke up. Nobody knew. Nobody knows. I never told anyone that we had broken up, and I don't think he did either, so as I write this, the secret is finally out.

I shared, briefly, that when I went to find Cole after Jax left, he was still alive. He was completely at peace, and I had no idea why. I knew better than to shake him, but I wanted to. Lex was dead, I knew, and five others, and I knew help wouldn't make it on time. So, I just held his hand, as he watched me, and sang a quiet lullaby to him as he bled out on the tiled school floor. Eventually, the blood loss made him faint, and I couldn't wake him back up; he would never wake up again after that.

I shared about what a great dad he was to Beanie, in the fleeting time he had, and what a great dad he would've continued to become. Everyone said something about what they had hoped he'd become, and, for some reason, that gave me a lot of closure. To share somewhat-publicly what I had thought I'd never be allowed to say, even if I did it with my eyes closed.

Jen interrupted me, and I opened my eyes to glare at her angrily. "Brianna... please."

"Mrs. Thomas?" Leo asked.

Jen's eyes were angered, but her voice remained calm. "Just... Be sensitive to the topic, okay?"

Lizzie's mouth dropped open, "But, Ms. Jen, you said we could speak as we want – freely—about Cole."

"My son," Jen whispered fiercely, "Is dead, and you aren't honoring his memory with this story. Quite the opposite, really."

Raven said something and Clay nodded. When everyone looked to him, he repeated what she had said: "What would you like to hear, then?"

Ella started to cry, and Kayla quieted her. Jen glanced from them, to me, and finally to Beanie. "The truth."

"That is the truth," I said flatly. "Why would I lie?"

It was a quiet challenge, and Jen seemed to understand, because she immediately backed down. "I'm not saying you're lying, Brianna."

Lizzie let out a harsh laugh, glancing at me for permission to speak her mind. I knew Lizzie would tear Jen apart piece by piece, so I shook my head. Lizzie sighed defeatedly and muttered, "Sorry."

Leo and Clay were having a silent conversation with their eyes, and had been for several minutes, but finally, Leo stood. "Thank you for inviting us, Mrs. Thomas."

Leo walked out of the room, followed immediately by Clay and Lizzie, but Calla and I were slow to react. Raven looked at us—Calla trying to decide whether to follow her brother, and me hastily gathering up Beanie and her stuff. Raven spoke, in her usual manner—quick and quite—and Calla laughed. "Exactly, right, okay." They rushed from the room, and I nodded to Kayla and Ella before I walked out, too.

A few days later, I strapped Beanie to me and walked the two miles to the cemetery where 22 fresh mounds of dirt were the only signs of life. The graves of the 22 victims who had been buried locally were piled high with gifts: candles, teddy bears, cards, flowers, and assorted images of the victims.

I made my way to where Cole's face smiled up at me from a picture tacked to a small wooden cross. He and I stood, arms around each other, with Leo, Lex, Jax, Joey, and some of the other people in our extended friend group, all of us with our arms around each other. It was early in my pregnancy, I could tell, because my face was midway through a major breakout and very round, but my bump wasn't obvious yet.

I touched his face and Lex's, then Joey's. These were all people who could never smile like this again, who could never laugh or go to college, never make their parents angry at them or walk their dogs, never hang out with their friends or play sports ever again. These were the people that Jax had taken so much from. I yanked the marker from around the base of the wooden cross where it had been attached, so people could write messages to the deceased, and scribbled out Jax's face, making sure not to taint any of the victims' smiles.

Beanie wiggled on my chest, and I sat down on the muddy earth. I read the notes to Cole, some aloud and some to myself. I knew Beanie would never remember it, but I still wanted her to be here, with me, as I finally left Cole alone. I wanted her to bear witness to my attempt at making amends with her father, even as late as I did. I knew that he had forgiven me as he lay dying, but in my heart, I still couldn't forgive him for abandoning Beanie and I here, without him. And I just wanted him back.

The gravestone was blank, because no one had carved his name and dates into it yet, but I still held onto it as my body sagged, and more tears slid down my face. I didn't let go as Beanie squirmed around in the dirt of her father's grave; I didn't let go until my eyes were raw and I couldn't cry anymore.