silver sonder ⤖ ian x jaden

denouement

"tell me about the best day of your life," jaden said quietly, arms tight around my waist.

"the best day of my life?"

"yeah. the best day of your life. your most positive memory."

i thought about it for a moment. "you know what? i don't think i've had the best day of my life yet."

jaden slowly removed his arms from my middle and put his hand in mine. he walked me over to a table that was just outside the café and gestured for me to sit. "and what makes you say that?" he asked in a tender, low tone. he still had his fingers woven with mine. i felt a childish grin creep across my face and for the first time i'd been in jaden's company, i didn't try to hide it.

"i-i don't know. none of my days seemed to have reached the standard to be the best."

he frowned. "that's really depressing, darling."

"ha."

"but, for real, you've got some high standards. high standards for the people you surround yourself with."

i considered that for a second and it pained me when i came to the realisation that he wasn't wrong. "i guess you're right, but it sounds bad when you say it like that."

he smirked. "and i fit your ridiculously high standards, do i?"

"shut up," i joked, swatting him on the hand. he laughed and started to caress my thumb with his.

"what about the worst day of your life?"

my face dropped. "oh, i know that one for sure."

"i was just kidding-"

"i'm gonna tell it to you anyway."

jaden shrugged and held my hand tighter. "i'm all ears, darling."

i took a deep breath and pushed my glasses further up so they were balancing on the bridge of my nose. i hadn't told anyone this story before. "jaden, have you ever been to nuecestown cemetery?"

"i have... but what were you doing there? isn't that where the-"

"where the rich people get buried. yeah."

"not to be blunt, but i didn't realise were-"

"i'm not rich. my father was. they buried him at nuecestown."

"i'm so sorry..."

"don't be. his death wouldn't have changed my life in any way if we hadn't gone there. but my mom insisted that we had to."

i closed my eyes and imagined myself standing in that church now, lighting a candle in memory of my father. it all felt so distorted, even remembering what actually happened that day. "you see, we weren't actually invited to the funeral. why would we be invited? he didn't want us around when he was alive. but my mom, she knew that this was the church he frequented. she told me we had to pay our respects. i was thirteen, and it was my first time in a church, actually.

"it was my first time seeing them, too. his other family. no, we were the others. they were his real family. we hadn't expected they would still be there. surely several hours after the service was over, they would have finished, sent his body down into the ground, been done with it. i remember watching them weeping next to the covered casket. his widow's sobs echoed through the high ceilings of the church. it took them a minute to notice us.

"i took in the image of them. curiosity battled with guilt in the pit of my stomach. i couldn't help but stare in awe at this display of grief. his beautiful wife, now his widow. his beautiful children... my siblings. i knew their names, i knew they were twins, and i knew they were six months older than me."