Summer's Last Breath

Part 47

There were so many things about Lyla's funeral I longed to forget. Why would I want to remember how my gut clenched and my insides bled as they put the last piece of my heart in the ground? The way I squeezed Noah's fingers when the first shovel of dirt was thrown on her tiny coffin. Why would I want to remember the sound the dirt made as it scraped over the shiny surface, covering it so that it would never see the sunlight again? I couldn't see the sunlight anymore. I knew it was there, but I couldn't see it, and I couldn't feel it. I doubted I would ever feel either again.

I hadn't even cried. I was so numb. I was so far from feeling anything I wondered if I were even alive. I knew there were people there, surrounding me, but the only people I remembered were my parents and Noah and his hand and the way it held me to the earth.

And then I'd come home and I was back in my pink room. I couldn't move in with my mom like we'd planned. Not without Lyla. I couldn't face the half-finished nursery.

I unzipped my suitcase my dad had left on the bed. I reached inside for the picture I'd lain on top of my clothes. It was my favorite one of me and Jamie. We were on the beach and I looked so happy. I set it on my dresser, my finger running over Jamie's face under the glass, wanting so much to touch his smile. I'd never taste that smile again.

I turned the frame face down. Some days I couldn't bear to look at Jamie's smiling face. Some days it brought comfort to see how happy he'd been, but not today.

I lay back on my bed, my fingers curling in the ruffled bedspread. I'd finish unpacking my things later. I had nothing to do but wait. Wait to feel something again. Eyes dry and unblinking, I stared at the stars on my ceiling.