Under My Skin

46 | loved, lost, learnt

Life is often analogised to a merry-go-round. Some individuals sit alone, while others hold on tight to those dearest. We're sometimes surrounded by shrieks of delight and other times by cries of trepidation. It's our choice whether to clamp our eyes shut to the opportunities around us as we attune to the whirr of the world passing us by. Until we arrive at our screeching halt.

And today would mark the end of Indiya's ride.

Dark silhouettes entered the building as the thunder bellowed its promise of rain, ensuring a sombre ambience to accompany the day. The sky was slate-grey, save for the sepia hues that chaperoned each boom of thunder.

Blaine began to feel the soreness encroaching where Ria had grasped far too tight onto his forearm. Initially, they'd held hands, but now her nails gripped into the flesh of his skin where he'd rolled up his sleeves. Blaine didn't mind, really; strangely, the sensation grounded him. He glanced down at her, and each time he did so, her eyes remained etched on the wooden rectangular coffin that would now be Indiya's new home.

"Ria?" Ms Tengku chimed from the pew directly in front of them, but Ria hadn't appeared to hear the older woman. The six-sided box was the exclusive recipient of her attention.

Blaine poked her shoulder gently. "Ri? I think Indiya's mum wants to speak to you." He whispered against her ear, his finger flicking against a wave of hair that had fled Ria's bun and resided against her cheek.

"Oh." Ria struggled to avert her gaze away from the casket. "Sorry...I didn't hear you." She propelled her lips into an upward curve, hoping it would emulate a somewhat convincing smile.

"I know it's a little last minute, but I was wondering whether you'd be okay to say a few words about Indiya when the time comes in the service." Ms Tengku implored, her apprehension tangible from how her fingers skirted over the hem of her dress several times. "I'd written some words myself...but I don't...I don't think I can get up and do it. I don't think I'd do her justice."

"I don't know," Ria mumbled in response. Still, the woman's disconsolate countenance, the tears bubbling in her eyes, threatening to slip, led to her reconsidering her following words. "Okay. I'll try."

"You don't have to do it if you're not comfortable. You can always change your mind. You can say no, Ria." Blaine reassured her once Ms Tengku had turned around to face the front of the ceremony hall. She nodded slowly, diverting to her right side where Reid sat, tightly clutching her hand. Things hadn't miraculously resolved between the siblings, but oddly enough, Indiya's passing had brought them together. Perhaps that had been Indiya's parting gift to the remaining Aslans. The fact that Reid had stuck to his decision to depart shortly after the funeral may have been a contributing factor too.

Like Ria, Reid struggled to yank his eyes away from the coffin. He could hear the echoing of the civil celebrant in the background as he introduced himself and Indiya's family and read out biblical verses. The last funeral they'd attended had been their father's. It had been full of despair, sorrow and sheer anguish. Yet today held a different feel for him.

Because despite the sweet sorrow and raw suffering, a part of Indiya would always live on within him. He'd made many mistakes that he'd have to spend the remainder of his life atoning for, but he'd loved her once, which made him a luckier man than most.

All lost in their trail of unrelenting thoughts, they'd scarcely heard the civil celebrant endeavour to usher Ria onto the stage to give her eulogy.

"Ria?" Reid called out, and Ria could just about fathom Hazel's voice calling her in the background. She shifted to her brother as he nodded towards the stage, signalling that it was time to say a few words.