A Beautiful Star (Beautiful Series, Book 5) (15 page)

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

It’s the mantra of the funeral, the apology that means absolutely nothing to the person receiving it.

They’re sorry for our loss.

They’re sorry for our loss.

Being sorry does nothing.

Sorry is the most over used word in the English language, and after today, I’ll be glad if I never hear how sorry someone is again.

I don’t want them to be sorry for my loss. I want them to feel their own loss. I want them to understand what an amazing man my father was and how special the relationship was that he had with my mother. I want them to understand that man represented half of my mother’s heart, and that she’s broken without him. I want them to understand what an injustice his absence in this world is. I want them to feel as lost as we do.

Although perhaps they do feel that, and that’s why they’re sorry…

“I’m so sorry,” another mourner says, and I nod in response, keeping my arm around my mother as we wait for everyone to leave the church where the service was held. I don’t even know most of these people, and I wonder how in the world they knew my father, but it is some comfort to me, knowing that he was loved by so many people during his time on this earth.

As the church empties, there’s only a few mourners left and Aunt Liz takes mum to the car while I finish up here and organise transport for all of the flowers and photos that were put around the casket with my uncle. The casket is gone now. It was taken away to be cremated, as per my father’s wishes. Just the thought of the moment causes me to stop what I’m doing and release a choked sob–the curtain closing, the casket disappearing into the floor, the pulley system cranking and clicking, an ominous sound that made things so final…

“Sandra,” a female voice says, resting a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know what to say.”

I turn to find Lisa standing beside me, and the first thing I do is wrap my arms around her and sob. I’ve missed her so much.

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for months.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I’ve been a terrible friend to you, and I should have been here when you needed me. Do you think you can forgive me?”

I nod and notice that Marcus is standing not far behind her. “Hey,” he waves, looking a little uncomfortable in the situation. “I’m really sorry about your father. I didn’t know him, obviously, but Lisa said he was a really good man.”

“Thank you,” I nod, swallowing hard as I release Lisa from my grip.

“And I’m sorry about your house too. Whatever the bill was, send it to me. I’ll fix you up.”

“Jonathan fixed it,” I state, my voice small and quiet as I wonder how much they know.

Lisa smiles. “He can be a good man when he wants to be.”

I nod. “He can,” I agree.

“Listen, do you want some help here? Anything you need, just ask. I’ve got a bit of best friend repairing to do.”

“Thanks,” I say, handing her a bouquet of flowers to carry. “We’re loading all of this into my Uncle’s ute outside.”

“Here, let me help too,” Marcus says, reaching out to take flowers himself, and I load them both up with all they can carry and then do the same myself, leading them out the side door where my uncle’s ute is waiting.

“When did you get back?” I ask Lisa, as we lay the flowers as carefully as we can in the truck’s tray.

“A couple of weeks ago. I’m sorry I didn’t call you. We went and we… this is the absolute worst time to tell you this but we eloped in Hawaii, and we barely got back when Jonathan called to tell us what happened.”

“Jonathan told you?”

“Yes. I think he really cares about you, Sandra. He called and told me everything, and said that you could do with a friend today. I’m so sorry I haven’t been here for you lately. So, so sorry,” she says.

“I’m sorry too, Lisa, we just kind of, fell into each other. But it’s over. I’m not seeing him anymore–this is all way too messed up,” I cry and she gives me a hug.

“It’s OK. But isn’t life messed up?”

I nod. “Way more than I want it to be.”

My uncle loads the last of it into the back of his ute and secures the cover, asking if I have a lift back home or if I want to ride with him.

“I need to go,” I tell Lisa. “It was good to see you though.”

“You too. I just wish the circumstances were a little better.”

Nodding, I press my lips together in a sad smile and get into the cabin beside my uncle, giving her a light wave as we drive away. It’s then that I notice, standing against his Mercedes, Jonathan. My heart leaps up into my throat as I press my fingertips to the window, and watch him, watching me, as I drive away, again.

And something about this time, tells me I won’t be seeing him again.

And I don’t.

Not for an entire year.

It has been six months since my father passed away and we said our final goodbyes. It was only the beginning of what would be a very long healing process for both my mother and myself. Most days have been spent simply helping her through the day, getting her to perform normal tasks that most people do without question.

My mother was so lost without dad that she ceased to exist herself, and to see that spark missing from a woman who has always been so gregarious and full of life has been devastating to me. In a way, I’ve felt like I lost both of my parents at the same time.

My Aunt Liz still does her best to help out when she can. But she has her own family to look after and can’t be here all the time. So mostly, I’ve been going it alone, barely keeping it together myself.

Working has been virtually impossible. I’ve barely managed to complete a freelance assignment, and as a result, I’ve had to pack up my house and put it up for rent so I have some sort of income to bolster my dwindling savings.

My social life has ended. I’ve basically just let it go and sunk into the cloud of grief that surrounds us now. And I don’t really mind. Fun is the last thing on my mind anymore.

Occasionally, I login to Facebook and make a half-hearted attempt at social contact. But I don’t last long; I can’t handle all the small complaints and victories that seem so trivial to me now.

Besides family, the only other person who insists of staying in my life is Lisa. In between gigs, she takes the time to visit and bring her dog Perry. He’s a very intelligent golden retriever and there’s something about him that helps to coax my mother out of her shell. It’s as if he senses she needs companionship and instead of being his usual over excited self, he is calm with her, letting her pat him while he sits beside her with his head on her lap. But then they leave and she’s right back to where she was, withdrawn and empty.

During this time, I’ve also become an avid stalker of Jonathan Masters. After the funeral, he left. He’s did what I asked and went back to the US and took on his role in the thriller,
A Wanted Man.
There’s been plenty of press coverage and interviews with the cast during the filming. So I eat up every bit of information, every leaked scene, interview, preview, anything that the internet will give me–I watch it all, loving him in every moment, and feeling glad that he didn’t stay. We wouldn’t have made it through this. What we had was far too new. And as much as I miss him, I’m grateful that we had that short time together, even though it hurts now that he’s gone.

“Do you still talk to him?” my mother asks, and I spin around in my chair, surprised to find her standing behind me as I watch an interview with him where he talks about the challenges of his new role. This is maybe the fourth time I’ve watched it since it aired online last night.

“Are you okay?” I ask her, avoiding the question while at the same time feeling a genuine curiosity. It’s so unlike her to be up and about these days. “Do you need something?”

“No,” she answers. “I just wondered what you were doing.”

Smiling, I stand and close the lid on my laptop. “Nothing important. Is there something you’d like to do? We can rent a movie on cable if you want. I’ll even watch one of those spoof movies I used to refuse to watch with you,” I suggest hopefully, feeling slightly buoyed by the fact that she’s actually initiated a conversation with me. 

She shakes her head. “I think I’d like to go out.”

“Sure. Where would you like to go?”

“I’d like to take a walk around the harbour.”

***

"It’s so pretty here," Mum comments, as she looks out over the water of Sydney Harbour as we walk around Circular Quay. We walk slowly, our arms linked casually as we make our way along the landscaped walkways that lead to The Rocks. She pauses to watch a few buskers in First Fleet Park, releasing my arm and taking a moment to admire each one and drop a coin in their hats before moving on to the next. Although, she stays longer at the last one as he sits on an upturned bucket playing a set of various sized PVC pipes by slapping them with a pair of flip-flops. The tunes he plays are instantly recognisable as popular songs from the last decade or so. I find myself smiling as my mother bounces and claps along, voicing her delight when he plays a riff from a song she recognises.

"Sandra?"

I hear the question asked behind me by a voice I’ve heard before. I turn around to the sound of my name and find Brad smiling as he realises he was right. "I thought it was you. How are you? It's been a while."

"I’m well, Brad. What about you? Where are you headed tonight?” I ask, wincing when I realise how ridiculous that question is the moment it leaves my lips. Although he smiles and answers anyway.

"The restaurant is on the edge of the water down there." He points toward it. "Remember? Or was the food is not really that good?" he jokes.

"Oh no–the food was amazing. I remember where you work. I just... this is a little awkward isn't it?" I ask, feeling strange seeing him again after so long.

"Not really," he grins, but I can tell he's just being cheeky. That's when my mother makes her presence known by clearing her throat loudly and stepping between us.

"Brad, this is my mother, Madeline." I say, feeling the need to explain who this woman standing in front of me is. "And mum, this is Brad."

She takes his hand and shakes it in greeting. "Oh, Brad. Of course, you're the chef."

"So I've come to be known," he smiles. "My restaurant is actually a little way down there if you want me to squeeze you in for a quick bite. Your daughter thinks you haven't eaten until you've tasted my cooking."

I open my mouth to refuse, not wanting to lead him on again. But mum answers before I can.

"Well, that sounds lovely, Bradley. But I'm afraid I recently lost my husband, and a romantic place like that might be a bit much for me. But one of these days we’d love to come so I can check out this amazing food of yours. But for tonight, I think we'll just have burgers at The Rocks."

The enigmatic smile he usually sports drops from his face and he takes my mother's hand and holds it between his.

"I'm so sorry, Madeline. I wasn't aware of your loss."

Mum smiles at him. It's a sad smile that conveys understanding instead of happiness. "Don't be sorry, Brad. Just do me a favour, and when you finally get yourself married, listen to your wife. She normally knows you better than you know yourself."

"Of course," he smiles. "That's very sound advice, and I'll be sure to take it on board." It's then that he makes his excuses to leave so that he can get to work on time. He leans in and presses a kiss to both mum’s cheeks and mine then repeats that we’re welcome at Quay any time, and he'll make room for us.

"Well, he's lovely," mum comments as we watch him walk away, and he turns back and waves. "I think I do like his tattoos. And that grin of his looks a little devilish. Tell me, why didn't you sleep with him again?"

"Oh mum," I say with a laugh as I wrap my arms around her and hug her to me, grateful that for some reason she has chosen today to come back to me.

"What?" she asks.

"Nothing. I just really missed you is all."

"I know, sweetheart," she responds patting my back softly. "I know."

***

"So, tell me all about these two men you're no longer seeing. You seemed so enamoured with that Jonathan Masters, the one you were watching on the computer earlier. What happened?" my mother asks in between bites of her massive burger as we sit in an outside eatery enjoying the sea air in The Rocks shopping district.

"Well," I say slowly. "Brad and I only dated a few times, but it wasn't really working for us. We got along great but…"

"There was no real chemistry," she finishes for me.

"Exactly."

"So you went with the chemistry, which was with Jonathan, and instead of moving to the States with him, you're here, with me. And while I understand that, I don't understand why it seems as though you've both broken up."

I pick up a thick potato chip from my plate, and swirl around in my pot of tomato sauce, keeping my eyes downcast as I think before I answer.

"We just…didn't work out," I shrug.

"Bullshit," she calls, causing both myself and a few other diners to turn our shocked attention toward her.

"Mum," I warn quietly, letting her know that I feel she's making a scene.

"I'm not stupid, Sandra. You broke up with him to look after me, didn't you?"

"Please, can we just drop this? We’re having a nice time and sometimes relationships don't work out – okay?"

"No, Sandra, I want to know what happened," she insists.

"Fine. I told him to leave, okay?"

"Why would you do that?"

I pause for a moment, my eyes downcast as I swallow down the thickness in my throat. "Because I was too busy being with him to talk to dad like you asked me to. I was too busy making plans with him to be bothered calling a handy man to help you. And I was too busy fucking him to hear your phone calls when you needed me when dad was dying. That's why. Because suddenly, looking at him made me feel selfish and because when your world was breaking, mine was coming together and I felt like…like…"

"Like what?"

I shake my head, dropping the chip on my plate. "I felt like my love stole yours. And I couldn't live with that."

"What do you mean your love stole mine? That makes no sense. What? Like the universe couldn't exist with both so it cancelled out the other?"

Shaking my head, I bounce my shoulders in a shrug. It feels stupid hearing my reasons repeated back to me, but I’m unable to stop how I feel. "I suppose… Sort of."

"Well," mum says, as she sits back against her seat with a thud. "That's a pretty fucked up way to think, Sandra."

"I never said it makes sense. It's just the way I feel."

"Well, you know what I think? I think you need to call him, tell him you were wrong. You can go to him now; I'm feeling much better. You don't have to put your life on hold for me anymore."

I begin breaking up the remainder of my food and throwing it out to the seagulls who squawk and fight each other for the best position. "It's not that easy, mum."

"Why isn't it that easy?"

"Because I broke up with him. I told him to go."

"Then tell him to come back," she states simply. "These things are only as hard as you want them to be, you know."

Throwing the last piece of food from my plate, I wipe my hands on the napkin and push away from the table, "Can we drop this please?"

"If you really want to, Sandra. But, it’s time for you to go out there and get your life back. I may have been struck down with grief of late, but that doesn't mean we have to live in a depressed state forever. It's time for both of us to get our lives back together, Sandra. It's what your father would have wanted."

Sitting across from my mother, I look at her, wondering where all of this has come from. Yesterday, she was walking around in a daze and today she’s sounding like an inspirational quote book. It’s as if she flipped a switch on her grief and decided that enough was enough. And I feel over-joyed. I have missed my mother desperately over the past six months, for it had seemed that she’d lost her spirit. It’s nice to have my no-nonsense mother back.

"What happened between yesterday and today, mum? I'm not complaining. I’m glad you’re back. But you've gone from a shell to, well, you again."

She reaches across the table and pats my hand, giving me a small smile. "Nothing changed, sweetheart. I simply woke up."

***

“Lisa! Come on in,” my mother says kindly as she answers the front door herself. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea, coffee, water?”

“Uh, no thanks, I'm fine,” she answers, looking at me strangely as mum kneels down to hug and baby talk to Perry, whose tail is wagging so happily that I can barely see it.

‘Wow,’ Lisa mouths to me and in return I mouth, ‘I know!’

“Can I take him outside?” Mum asks, and when Lisa tells her yes, she's outside in a flash, throwing a stick for Perry to chase and return.

“What happened?”

“I have no idea. It's like she just woke up and decided she was done with grieving.”

“Maybe she's in denial?” Lisa suggests.

“No, she isn't. She's talking about dad in the past tense and even mentions the circumstances surrounding his death at times. I think she's just hit the point where she's ready to put her life back together again.”

“Wow, well, I'm glad. This has been a really hard six months for the both of you. Maybe now you can both get on with your lives.”

“Oh no, not you too,” I say, shaking my hand and place my hands on my hips.

“What? I think you should call him.”

“Lisa, I thought you of all people would support me on this. After what happened between the two of you, I'd have thought you'd tell me to be careful of him because he's such a player.”

She shrugs and pulls one side of her mouth up in a slight smile. “Perhaps, but things are different now. And we aren't kids anymore. And well, when he spoke to me about you, I could tell that he meant it. He loves you, Sandra, for real, and I believe it when he says he's waiting for you too. You can tell he's changed by the way he is in his interviews. He believes in what's between you. Why don't you?”