The Turning Point

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN - ANOTHER GOODBYE

Heloyse

The open coffin, made of dark wood, was surrounded by flowers. Near the wreath, a frame displayed the engraved name: Thomas Richard Thompson Ferrel.
Inside the coffin, a man with white and long hair rested in eternal sleep. Thom looked so peaceful that, for a moment, I caught myself waiting for him to wake up.
A little away, a piece of furniture leaning against the wall displayed photos of him over the years. Old, black and white images of his youth. Others, of his wedding. Some, holding Martin as a baby in his arms. In some photos, he was with Cielo and Megan. One, positioned at the end, showed him holding a fishing rod, with Will and Martin by his side.
Then, my chest tightened when I saw, among so many photos, my own face.
That image captured a moment from the White's party. We were all gathered around the table, and Thom was smiling at the camera. A silent proof that, somehow, I was part of that family.
I put my hand to my chest, as if that gesture could contain the pain that settled there.
Since we received the news of his death, I cried for hours on end. Once again, someone important had left. Another goodbye forced by life.
The wake was full.
The farm employees, some workers from Will's property, unknown faces, and others only familiar by sight.
Jeremy arrived with his family, introduced us, and sat next to Megan. Calvin and Eva were with a small group a little further ahead.
Shortly after, the Whites entered with their two daughters. Patsy gave me a quick look under her long eyelashes and followed her parents to Cielo. Selena joined Megan and Jeremy.
It was then that I saw Johnson arrive.
He was accompanied by a man and two women who, by the family resemblance, must have been his relatives. He looked at me from afar, put his hands in his pockets, and walked slowly towards me. He ran his hand over his beard before stopping, looking at me with a dejected expression.
Since our farewell at the bar, we had never spoken again. Seeing him now seemed strange and uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry, Lisy. I know how much you cared for him."
"Thank you."
He nodded and looked away at Cielo before turning back to me.
"With Megan in college, Cielo will need company more than ever."
"I know."
"How long do you intend to stay?"
"I had already decided to live here. I need to sort some things out in Boston, but I'll be back. I don't want to stay away from Cielo."
"Or from him."
I slowly let out my breath, trying to control the irritation that his comment provoked. It was unbelievable that he brought up that subject while Thom was being waked a few feet away from us.
"This is not the time, Johnson."
"Forgive me! I'm an idiot. I just want you to know that I cared a lot about Thom."
"I know."
I sighed, and something caught my attention.
Outside, Will remained standing.
The black suit, a symbol of mourning, made his presence even more imposing. The black hat rested on his loose hair that fell over his shoulders.
He looked at the ground, hands in his pockets, lost in his own thoughts.
"Excuse me, Johnson."
"Take your time."
I thanked him and went towards the door. My steps were hurried, anxious.
Outside, the sky was gray.
"Will? Why don't you come in?"
He took a while to answer. Then, he raised his head and looked at me. His face was a cold and impassive mask.
"On the day Thom went to the hospital, he told me that I should show you how happy I am for what's between us."
"And are you?"
"Yes."
"That's good."
"Calvin is important to me. Calvin, Wallace... Thom. They treated me like a son. Now, only Calvin is left."
"At least you still have one."
"Yes. For now."
"Are you afraid of losing him too?"
He let out a humorless laugh.
"Is it that obvious in me, sunshine?" His voice was a whisper laden with uncertainty. "Will I suffer bitterly on the day Calvin is gone? Will I spend the rest of my life drowning in regret for never having told him that... that I see him as..."
He frowned, looking away, as if searching for something invisible in the wind, something that could give him an answer. His face was pale, his features tense, and when he looked back at me, his confession came laden with an invisible weight.
"I didn't cry. I didn't cry when my mother died. Nor when I lost my father. Wallace, Martin... they all left, and I remained intact. Not even now, before Thom's death, the tears come. I feel this tight knot in my throat, this anguish consuming me, but I can't cry."
"That doesn't mean you don't care," I whispered.
Will walked towards me, his steps slow, almost hesitant. When he stopped, the proximity between us was so close that I had to raise my face to look at him. And there he was, the face of a young man torn by loss, his soul laden with shadows. His green eyes, of a crystalline tone like the deep waters of a river, overflowed with a silent pain that pulled me into him.
His cold hand slid over my skin, tracing a soft and careful path on my face.
He caressed me with an almost ethereal touch, as if he feared I could disappear under his fingers. Then, without warning, he pressed his forehead to mine, closing his eyes and letting out a long sigh, laden with something he didn't say, but that I could feel.
And when his eyes opened again, I saw there a suffering so raw, so fierce, that my heart seemed to break for him.
"I fear something worse," his voice came in a hoarse thread, as if each word demanded immense effort. "I fear that one day I may lose something that takes everything from me. Something that tears me apart so much that it completely destroys me."
And then, his lips brushed mine in a brief, delicate kiss, but laden with meanings.
Those words sent shivers down my skin, like the icy wind before a storm.
"Come on, sunshine," he murmured, his hand sliding from my face to hold my hand. "Let's say goodbye to Thom."
The sadness that hovered in the atmosphere was dense and suffocating, like a heavy cloak that stretched over everyone. The silence, thick and deadly, was broken only by the muffled groans and sobs that filled the air.
Will still held my hand firmly, and when I could no longer hold back the tears, they finally came, like an unexpected torrent. He was there, by my side, for me. For us.
"Can I talk to you?"
Patsy's voice, soft and trembling, cut through the thick curtain of silence that enveloped us.
I moved a little away from Will, still feeling his protective gaze on me, and met Patsy's eyes, which looked at me with a silent request. It was then that I realized that her words were directed at me, not at him.
"What do you want to talk about?" Will asked, with his usual serenity, but something in his voice betrayed his concern.
"I want to talk to her, not you, William," her answer came direct, without detours.
Will looked at me, as if he knew it was time to step away, and, without a word, went to Cielo. I took a deep breath and turned my gaze to Patsy, who seemed distant, as if preparing for something painful.
"What do you want, Patsy?" I asked, trying to hide the apprehension in my voice.
"I just want to talk," she replied, her tone softer now.
"You've already said that." I was tired, feeling the weight of so many conflicting emotions.
"Then I'll get straight to the point."
Patsy seemed to hesitate for a moment, but soon continued:
"I saw that you and Will are doing well. Did he tell you about what happened between us, that day?"
"Patsy, Thom is right there, in that coffin, and you come here to talk about something as... futile as you?" My voice trembled, but I couldn't hide the revolt.
"All right... That hurt," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness.
"If you'll excuse me..." I began, wanting to walk away.
"Please, hear me out!" she interrupted, grabbing my arm with a force that surprised me. "I know you have a very bad image of me. I don't blame you; in fact, I'm the only one responsible for all the misunderstandings, for being unbearable. But I deeply regret everything I did."
"Good for you," I said with a forced smile, trying to push away the pain I felt.
"When I brought up that subject, I just wanted to say that I always knew, from the beginning, that it was you he wanted, not me. He has this whole reputation for playing with women, but that's a lie. He never swore love to any of them. To none of us."
"I know," I murmured, looking at Thom's coffin.
"It's written all over his face that you are much more than any other has ever been. You got something that no one else ever got: O'Connor's heart."
Patsy smiled, but it wasn't a victory smile, but one of understanding.
"Patsy..." my voice faltered, but she didn't let me interrupt.
"I'm not finished!" she insisted, with a palpable urgency in her eyes. "The day we went to the hotel, I was so drunk, but I remember feeling him covering me, and then the sound of the door closing as he left. I knew he had taken me there just to leave me in a safe place, not because he wanted to be with me. He was terribly sad. The next day, he called me, and it was strange because he never gave an explanation to anyone. I told him you were nothing special. And do you know what he answered? That you were something he needed. Something that I, or any other woman, could never give him."
That caught me off guard.
My eyes widened, processing that information.
"Will had already broken so many hearts that I could only think about how much I wanted to see him broken. How could someone have a heart as hard as steel? I could only think about that."
"Will is so broken, Patsy. You only see his physical side or what he wants you to see," I managed to say.
Patsy nodded, as if she finally understood.
"I woke up in that hotel, feeling like an empty person. I ran out, swearing I would make his and your life hell. And in the end, you were there, reaching out to me when no one else did. And I went home, feeling even worse. More than the trash I already was," she lowered her gaze, as if shame took over her body. "You know, I was engaged. Everyone here knows, everyone knew he was cheating on me. I was the last to know. He told our intimacies to his friends. He mocked me, but my father's money made him say he loved me. On my wedding day, one of the women he was having an affair with showed up. You can imagine how it all ended."
"I'm sorry, Patsy." I didn't know what else to say, so I just murmured.
"Me too. I feel it every day. I wish it had all been different. I walked away from everyone. The hatred I felt was something I can't explain. I was always that woman everyone thought was just an idiot. So, I changed. I was the desire of all his friends, and Christian was one of them. My ex-fiancé ran after me like a puppy, and that was delicious... for a while. I got tired. But then, there was William. Perfectly handsome, as he always was, and he never looked at me. Always quiet, serious, the downfall of some women. He was a challenge I made sure to fight. But after our first time, he didn't look for me. And that made me lose control. He barely spoke to me. I felt empty, a shell, just a bitch... Will was a trophy, an unattainable prize."
"Patsy, I know all this is very painful for you, but this is not the appropriate place..."
I wanted to stop it, but she didn't stop.
"You'll understand," she looked at the coffin and then back at me. "I wanted to hit you, hurt you... I knew it wasn't fair. Not after you helped me. And yet, I hated you," Patsy smiled, but it was a smile of pain. "My father, when he found out about my affair with Christian, hit me. It was the worst thing that ever happened to me. My mother looked at me with disgust... If you could see their faces... After a few days, Thom went to see my father. While they went to call him, Thom came to where I was, saw me crying, held my hand, and said to me: 'Maybe you don't have what you want so much, but that's no reason to forget your worth. Be wise, change yourself, and soon people will see who you really are.' He was right. I'm not the heartless bitch everyone thinks I am. I had just forgotten my worth. I wanted people to see who I really am. I am someone. There's someone in here, under all this bad reputation I've built around myself, there's still a loving daughter, a woman who wants to be loved and have a family. I'm still Patsy," she stopped, breathing heavily, her eyes watery. "I wanted you to forgive me for the way I treated you, without you having done anything to deserve it. All this just for not accepting that he was yours."
"Will doesn't belong to anyone."
"You have him. And maybe he doesn't know how to show it."
She looked at the coffin again and then looked at me with a sad smile.
"What I wanted to say with all this is that Thom made me see the kind of person I really am. He spoke so little, but every word he said made so much sense. Asking you for forgiveness here, at his wake, is expressing my gratitude to him. If he can hear me, I want him to know that I'm grateful for his words, for the comfort he offered me when I needed it most. May God have him, because good people like Thom deserve a special place beside God." Patsy wiped her tears and smiled melancholically. "I don't want to take up any more of your time. Maybe, one day, you can forgive me."
"Patsy..." I called her name as she began to walk away.
"You are forgiven. And I'm glad you've forgiven yourself. I wish Thom were here. He would have been happy for you."
She nodded and went towards her family.
Thom always knew how to touch the words of the soul. And I loved him for that.

***

When someone dies, many things change. For those who remain, the feeling is of being suspended in a void, feet without ground, life without direction. Depending on who left, the question that echoes in the mind is always the same: And now? What do I do?
I think that was the doubt that haunted Katherine. Her gaze was fixed on the coffin descending to the bottom of the grave, but her soul wandered far from there.
Death is natural, inevitable, but never acceptable. It arrives like a silent thief, without warning, without permission, and takes with it everything that is loved. For those who remain, there is the silence of absence, the pain of emptiness, the weight of never again. In these hours, perhaps the only sensible thing to do is to cry until the soul falls apart.
Maybe if Will cried, he would feel better.
He was a little away, leaning against the trunk of a tree, so still that he seemed to be part of that cemetery. He matched the place. He was a sad soul. So sad that it hurt to look at him. Maybe he was also trying to understand death.
I remained silent, even with my soul screaming. Somewhere inside me, it cried out in despair.
There was a void there. Music was missing. Thom always hummed something, and now, in that field where the dead rested, everything was silence. There were no melodies. There were no smiles.
There was no Thom.
The desire to leave suffocated me. I couldn't bear to stare at that coffin resting in the damp earth any longer. I wanted to run to the farm, throw myself on the bed, and sleep. And when I woke up, I would whisper: Thank God, it was just a nightmare.
Cielo threw her rose on the tomb and whispered:
"One day we will see each other, my love."
The first raindrops began to fall. The farewell, already painful, became even more melancholic. Little by little, friends and acquaintances left, leaving only the family for the final goodbye.
Megan, amid tears, hugged her mother and rested her face on her shoulder. She cried a deep, painful cry, a sound that resembled the lament of a wounded animal.
The rain thickened, but no one moved. We stayed until the end.
I had already thrown my rose.
I felt the knot forming in my throat when that word became inevitable. "Goodbye" escaped my lips like a sharp blade, tearing me from the inside out. I wasn't ready to say it again.
But who, in this life, is?
Once again, another goodbye.
When there was nothing more to do there, we started to leave.
Will remained in the same place, his gaze fixed on the newly dug grave.
"Aren't you coming, Will?" I asked, hesitant.
He shook his head slightly.
"You can go. I'll catch up with you."
I touched his hand. He smiled sadly, and only then did I notice the white rose between his fingers.
Cielo was already far away, accompanied by Megan, Jeremy, and some friends. I followed them, but after a few steps, I looked back.
Will was no longer where I left him.
Now, he was in front of Thom's grave. His hat rested against his chest, his wet hair stuck to his skin, his gaze lost in the pile of freshly turned earth. The white rose rested there, a final offering, a final gesture of love.
The rain finally poured down on us. But Will didn't move. He remained there, motionless, letting himself get wet, as if he hoped the water would take away some of that pain.
He was there, saying goodbye.