Count On Me

Everything is Different

A/N:  Hey there!  Sorry this took so long.  I needed a little time to figure out how to bridge the gaps between what I had already written, and what I have planned for later in the story.  

You may have also noticed that this story now has a new name.  I was never totally sure when I named it to start out with, but the new name, Count On Me, has been stuck in my head for a week or so.  So I'm gonna go with it.  So yes, this is still the same story... just under a new name.

Thanks for being patient!

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SATURDAY, AUGUST 23, 2014 | 10:05 AM | BEATRICE

Caleb slams the trunk shut, and a moment later he opens the passenger door of my Honda Civic and sits down beside me. I don't wait for him to buckle his seatbelt before pulling into traffic and driving away from the United Airlines baggage claim. We don't even say hello to each other; he has been gone for a week, but the air between us is still charged with tension.

I shift in my seat and smooth my black dress. "Good thing your plane wasn't any later, or you'd have missed the funeral, too," I say. I glance over my shoulder to check my blind spot and as I merge onto the freeway, I mutter, "As if missing her death wasn't bad enough."

"Beatrice," Caleb groans.

"What?!" I snap. "That was beyond shitty, and you know it. She was our mother, Caleb. You knew she was dying, you could have waited the week to leave for school, and yet, you didn't."

He huffs. "You just don't understand."

"You're right. I don't."

Caleb pouts and stares out the window for the rest of the drive to the funeral home. For the entire forty-five minutes, neither of us says a word. Only the sporadic blare of a car horn and my occasional whispered cursing at the traffic interrupts the charged silence.

I have spent the past three days since my mother's death sitting despondently on my bed, unable to sleep until the wee hours of the morning and finding it practically impossible to wake up until late in the afternoon. I only interrupt my mourning for Uriah's sake: each day I have visited Jacob in the hospital for an hour in the evening, then spent some time with Uriah once visiting hours end. Walking into that hospital after watching my mother die there is one of the hardest things I have ever done, but I cannot abandon my best friend and the people who have cared for me and welcomed me as if I were their own family, despite having met such a short time ago. Through all this, I have learned how meaningless time can really be, and at the same time, how valuable.

Bitterly, I wonder how Caleb has spent the past three days. Has he retreated into himself to mourn our dear mother as I have? Or has he gone about his business, exploring his new surroundings and meeting new people? I don't know, and I will not ask. The answer might only serve as another stab in my already battered heart. He has known of her death for three days, yet he booked a flight that barely made it here in time for her funeral, narrowly missing his final chance to say goodbye.

I'm not sure if I will ever forgive him for it.

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SATURDAY, AUGUST 23, 2014 | 1:20 PM

The funeral was a somber affair. I sat in the front row to my father's left, Caleb on his right. I may not get along too well with my dad, but I would rather sit next to him than Caleb right now. To my relief, no one complained when Uriah sat to my other side. Silent tears escaped my eyes and trailed down my cheeks, but Uriah kept his hand firmly wrapped around mine, rubbing his thumb back and forth along the webbing between my thumb and index finger, keeping me grounded, preventing me from coming apart into so many pieces I might never pick them all up and fit them together again.