“Of course.” Jay walks away, finding an empty chair not too far from us.
And then suddenly she’s standing in front of me.
I wouldn’t have blamed her if she just ignored me altogether. But that’s not who she is.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Hi. I didn’t think you’d come.”
“I’m here for your mom.” My smile fades.
Of course, she is. Everyone here is here for her, not for me, but to honor her memory.
“Yeah, right, I know—”
And then her arms are around my neck, allowing me to sink into her. I close my eyes, focusing on this moment, as I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her close.
“How are you doing?” she asks. “Are you okay?”
I didn’t realize how much I needed this.
How much I needed her.
“I am now.”
Ihaven’t seen Avalon since everyone dispersed at the cemetery. I’m finally at the part of the funeral everyone talked about when I was younger. The food.
We had the crying, the I’m sorry for your losses, the groups of strangers giving me hugs, and now we’ve made it to the food.
Unlike everyone else, I’m not that hungry. It’s been a lot already, and even though I’m happy knowing this is exactly what my mom would want, most of these people have no idea who she actually was.
Not like my friends. People who were with her daily and not just a coworker she was around every so often. Or hospital workers who only knew her as a cancerpatient.
I’m not saying I’m not grateful for them being here, but I just want to talk to people who have real memories with her. Heartfelt memories.
“You gave a beautiful eulogy,” Avalon says, walking around the corner and into the living room.
Most of the guests are in our kitchen or out in the backyard. I went to the only place I could get some alone time.
“Thank you.” I swirl the coffee around my cup.
“You look good, Zeke.” She smiles. “Sober.”
I stifle a laugh. “Thanks. I am. You were right; it wasn’t the right way to deal with my problems.”
“Yeah, well, I usually am.” She sits down next to me on the couch.
“I’m sorry.” I stare down at my hands. “For everything that I said to you.”
“Zeke—”
“No. You were right. I had no right to be an asshole just because of what I was going through,” I respond. “You never once treated me like shit when you had issues with your mom and dad; I should’ve leaned on you. Instead, I pushed you away.”
“Why did you?” she asks. “Push me away.”
“It’s gonna sound really stupid,” I begin.
“Try me.”