See You in the Morning

15 // Requiem

December descends over Los Angeles like a pall.

Lyla has never liked Los Angeles winters, where chunky white flakes of snow do not fall from the sky or touch the ground. She much prefers the winters from her childhood growing up in New Jersey, where she would flip her pajamas inside out the night before a snowstorm and wait by the radio in the morning with fingers crossed to hear whether school had been canceled.

If a snow day was called, she'd spend the day with Josie and her little sister Michelle sledding and crafting hot cocoa confections and watching movies. Those happy moments offset the loneliness she felt in her big childhood home while her parents worked late into the night.

Despite this, Lyla felt desperately homesick during her first December here in the city. She missed the snow, the coldness that nipped her nose, and the feeling of being surrounded by people who knew her. To cheer her up, Lucas had taken her to the Santa Monica Pier for a snow day picnic complete with hot cocoa, pancakes, warm blankets and fake tufts of snow. His gesture had attracted plenty of amused expressions from onlookers that day, but the dapper and childlike grin across his face disarmed most, if not all of the disgruntled locals.

She had kissed him that day like she meant it, and when she glimpsed the look in his eyes as they pulled away, she knew he meant it, too.

They were happy then, in those weeks and months before Lucas's body began to deteriorate from the inside out. Lyla had counted – the amount of time they'd spent battling cancer over the course of their relationship greatly dwarfed the months they'd spent together in ignorant bliss.

It had been an entirely different and happier time. But even if she wanted to revisit those precious, early moments, Lyla's not sure she'd be able to remember what it felt like to be unaware and blind to the shattering reality of grief. Because Lucas is gone and she is still here; and though he is no longer suffering, she feels for certain that it is she who is now dying.

As she lays in that space between dreaming and waking, she tries to collect her memories of the last few weeks.

The days after Lucas died were a blur. There had been medical workers, the Sherrills' church pastor, funeral home employees, and several others who had suddenly appeared. She vaguely remembers the weight and warmth of Darren's arm draping across her back as she hyperventilated into a pillow. And the sight of Lucas's father crumpling with grief is something she will not forget for a very long time, if ever.

"It was just his time," Dorrie had said, her voice carrying a brokenness and understanding that Lyla will never quite grasp.

There had been no point to argue whether Lucas's reluctance to receive radiation therapy after the surgery had caused his untimely death. He hadn't even received enough rounds of the clinical drug to be able to tell whether it was effective or not. Simply put, the cancer had won. And no one could argue that he didn't fight hard enough, not when he had so much more life to live.

The Sherrills had chosen to have a memorial service in lieu of a traditional funeral. Though many friends, relatives, teammates, coaches, and members from the UCLA student body attended to pay their respects and celebrate Lucas's life, the whole ceremony felt like an out-of-body experience for Lyla, who sat numbly in the front row from beginning to end.

She remembers she had been too shocked to cry, unable to shed a tear even though Darren's eulogy had nearly every person in the room sniffling into a tissue. Lucas had impacted and touched so many in the community with his life. He was very well loved. But as Lyla glanced around at the peoples' tears and sad expressions, she wondered why she felt so alone in her grief.

After all, it wasn't like she was a widow. She was just the girl he left behind.

Daylight filters through the drawn blinds of her window. She can't tell whether it's morning or afternoon, as she's stopped having any concept of time after the service. But judging by the lack of Charlie's loud laughter and Stella's floor-shaking EDM workout beats, Lyla guesses that it is sometime close to or just after noon.