He Came Through the Window

Part 16

(Ayden's Perspective)

Holland's thumb brushed my dampened cheek as ventured further away from the ending scene. The casket was in the ground, the mourners had said their goodbyes, and everyone was left to take their next steps. My hand gripped my boyfriend's tightly as I peered over my shoulder at the group. The memorial minister patted Kate's hand, smiling sympathetically. The slight crack of sunlight reflected on his bald head that shook slowly as he listened intently to the mourning mother. Kate's cheeks glistened with tears as she poured her heart out to the patient minister, and my heart ached as I looked at the woman who had lost her precious little girl. My eyes travelled around the circle of people who shrunk as we got further away. The eyes landed on the black-haired, blue-eyed man standing in front of the tombstone, head hanging down with hands in the pockets of his dress pants. He was distanced from the rest of the crowd, keeping to himself and barely looking at anyone else.

"So that's your dad, huh?" I asked, sniffling and peering up at Holland.

He grasped my hand tighter and led me to the subway station, callouses rubbing against my palms. He nodded but didn't look directly at me. Instead his eyes went over my head, toward the fading funeral scene. "Yes," He replied bitterly.

The man was an exact, aged version of Holland. His skin tone was a bit darker and he was slightly taller and broader, but those were the only differences.

"You guys didn't say anything to each other," I mused softly as we descended the stairs leading underground.

He shrugged, and I could feel the tension in his body as he gripped my hand. "He did plenty of talking yesterday when I picked him up from the airport."

"Oh, yeah, how was that?"

I felt the moisture building up in his palm as it rubbed against mine. "Time doesn't always change people, you know. They still remain assholes."

Rubbing his arm, I nuzzled up to Holland. The warmth of our bodies sandwiched together helped him crack a bit of a crooked smile, but his eyes were still clouded with sorrowful anger. Wrapping an arm around me, he pulled me close to his chest while we waited for the subway. We were silent was we waited, taking in the heat from each other's bodies.

"You look a lot like him," I broke the silence, playing with Holland's tie.

He smirked, running his fingers through my curled hair. "I've heard, ever since I was a little kid."

"Did he recognize you at first when you picked him up yesterday?"

He nodded, sinking his face in my hair as he spoke. "He came right up to me with that jackass grin plastered on his face." He lifted his head from my hair as the subway train screeched to a stop. Covering my ears, I gritted my teeth at the awful sound. We found two seats near the back, inching close to each other to avoid the other patrons. I glanced over at Holland as I put my head back. He was fishing for something in his back pocket.

"I didn't want to read this at the funeral," He said softly, handing me a purple piece of folded construction paper. "It would've upset my mom."

I opened the paper, running my thumb over the glitter on the page and the silver handwriting. I read the message in my head, pinching the bridge of my nose and blinking rapidly at India's words. My eyes once again welled with tears as her writing sunk in, seeping into my heart. She sounded so much older than an eleven-year-old. She sounded more like a dying patient who had been given a full life. I placed the paper back in Holland's lap and closed my eyes. He didn't say anything, but I could hear him folding the message back into his pocket. Behind closed eyes I pictured how he looked next to me, probably playing with the same tie he'd worn to his graduation. My eyes opened, and that was exactly what he was doing. Through the heavy feeling in my heart, I cracked a bit of a smile at how handsome he looked. Sadly, he looked that way for all but a happy occasion.