Falling for Hadie (38 page)

The style of the funeral was simple. Long-stemmed calla lilies sat in tall, glass vases around his coffin, along with a large floral wreath. Even the weather was fitting—the sky was a dark gray and overcast, threatening us with the possibility of rain.

Everyone was dressed in black clothes of mourning. I was wearing a black knee-length skirt and a black sweater. Mom had picked it out for me, thinking it was appropriate for the occasion.

I was suddenly reminded of the time when Lincoln had commented on my habit of wearing sweaters and claimed that I wore them to hide myself. That day seemed so far off that it was easy to think that I’d imagined it.

When it was apparent that no else would be arriving, the service began. A prayer was said before a violinist began playing a low, haunting melody. It was so fitting for the occasion and I could hear plenty of sniffling amongst the small gathering.

On my right sat Eddie. He was holding my hand, staring straight ahead as he watched the violinist. I had never asked Eddie to support me; he had simply taken on that role. He’d been there for me in the days after Lincoln’s death, not really talking but just sharing the thick silences with me.

It had been strange at first, but now I was grateful to have him beside me.

Estella was on my left, tears falling down her face as the music continued to play, settling around our hearts, making them heavy. Mariah, who sat beside Estella, was uncharacteristically solemn as she stared down at the grass. Lana was furthest away from me which I was grateful for. I hadn’t spoken to her much at all and our relationship was still rocky. I still wasn’t ready to forgive her.

There were a few other kids from school: Ashton, Luca, Yuki and Kendare were sitting a couple of rows back. The Bracks’ sat in the front row with Lincoln’s friends and family from New York. My own parents sat in the row behind me—Dad would occasionally place a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I wasn’t sure what he was reassuring me of, but it was comforting nevertheless.

Lincoln’s family had pointedly ignored me. I had expected nothing less. His mother was angry that Lincoln had spent his last moments with me and she hadn’t even wanted me at the funeral. His friends had given me nods of acknowledgement, but we were too consumed by our grief to do anything else.

As the music faded away, Lincoln’s family was invited to speak.

Mr. Bracks spoke of the time when Lincoln had kicked his first football when he was four. He’d known then that his son was going to grow up and become a professional football player. Mr. Bracks quickly choked up and couldn’t continue his speech. One of his family members guided him to his seat as he sobbed uncontrollably.

Mrs. Bracks had written down her speech and read it in a rehearsed way. She talked a lot about how much she loved Lincoln and how she’d spent her life doing the best for him that she could. She cried towards the end of her speech, but it didn’t touch me the way Mr. Bracks’ speech had.

Becky was the last to speak. She was wearing a short, clingy black dress which seemed highly inappropriate to wear to her brother’s funeral. It disgusted me the way she kept shooting Neil seductive looks throughout her speech. She spoke about how close Lincoln and she were, how much they loved each other and how she’d do anything for him. I’d wanted to laugh at that point, but I kept myself under control. Becky didn’t cry at all; simply took her seat beside her mother once she was done.

The minister took to the podium again and gave me a meaningful look. I sat up straighter. That was my cue.

The Bracks’ hadn’t asked me to make a speech—probably on Mrs. Bracks’ orders—but Eddie’s dad’s brother was the minister in charge of the service and Eddie had pulled some strings so that I’d get a chance to say my bit.

Seriously, Eddie was like the Statlen High secret service or something. He seemed to know everyone.

Eddie’s uncle cleared his throat. “Usually, at this time of the service I like to invite people who knew the deceased to come up and say a few words. Is there anyone who would like to say a few words about Lincoln Bracks?”

Beside me, Eddie gave my hand a quick squeeze before releasing it.

My palms were sweaty as I stood up and approached the podium. I was so nervous that I was shaking. I hadn’t written a speech or thought about what I would say. I just knew the words would come to me once I was up there.

I walked around Lincoln’s coffin, careful not to look into it, and took my place at the podium.

Mrs. Bracks was fuming as I gazed out at the crowd, trying to collect my thoughts. She was speaking to the minister in loud tones, but I drowned out the sound of her voice.

My chest was sore and I took a deep breath, hoping to relieve some of the pain. The wind rustled the leaves of the Red Oak I was standing under and it sounded almost like someone was whispering in my ear.

“If Lincoln was here today, he’d tell us all to stop crying.” I took another steadying breath. “He would tell us to kick off our shoes and feel the grass beneath our feet. He was a simple guy with crazy ideas about life. If he was here, I knew he’d ask me why the hell I was wearing this morbid black sweater. So, for Lincoln, bye-bye black sweater.”

I stepped back, grabbed the hem of my sweater and pulled it off over my head. Next, I pulled down my skirt and stepped out of it.

There were audible gasps as everyone gaped at me standing there in the chill November day wearing a pair of denim shorts and a red t-shirt.

Throwing the dress onto the ground, I resumed my former position in front of the microphone, a lazy smile on my face.

“Lincoln taught me how to truly live. He taught me to find the beauty in the things around me. When he first met me, I was this whiny, upset girl who hated boys. He challenged me, he pestered me, but ultimately he changed me. I’m a better person for having known him.”

Samantha was crying uncontrollably in the front row as Neil wrapped an arm around her to calm her down.

“Lincoln would want us to celebrate his life, not mourn it. He didn’t care for pretentiousness. He didn’t care for back-stabbing or cheating or lying.” I paused to stare at Mrs. Bracks and Becky. “He didn’t have time for people like that. He didn’t give a damn. If he was here, do you know what he would’ve said? Fuck you. I’m not giving into your games.”

There was a dead silence and then suddenly all hell broke loose.

“Get her out of here!” Mrs. Bracks shrieked. “She can’t stand there and ruin my son’s funeral like this! I’m going to have her arrested!”

Even as Mrs. Bracks had her meltdown, another sound met my ears. Applause.

Lincoln’s friends had risen to their feet and were clapping slowly in time, and before I knew it my friends were standing up and doing the same.

Mrs. Bracks whipped around, her mouth hanging open as almost everyone got to their feet and started clapping.

Tears stung my eyes as I started to clap too.

The applause wasn’t for me. It was for Lincoln. It was in his memory. It was to celebrate his life. It was to celebrate the life of a boy I would never forget.

This was what Lincoln would have wanted—for his funeral to be memorable. For it to be real. For his mother to show her true colors. That’s what I’d given him.

  Grabbing my discarded clothes, I slung them over my shoulder and walked back around the coffin, careful not to peer into the glass. I didn’t want my last memory of Lincoln to be of him lying in a wooden box; I wanted my last memory of him to be smiling, optimistic, and alive. There was nothing left for me here anymore. I wouldn’t stay around for the burial.

I walked on out of there without a backwards glance as the applause followed me. I held my head high as I walked down the hill and away from the gathering.

By the time I’d reached my car, it had started to rain, and I glanced up and stared at the dark sky. I stood there, savoring the feeling of the rain as it hit my skin, and thinking of all the moments Lincoln and I had shared in the rain together.

As a bitter feeling rose in my throat, I opened the door to my car and got in, hoping that wherever Lincoln was I’d done him proud.

***

A week after the funeral I sat in my room playing with the two buttons I’d found in my car. They’d been Lincoln’s buttons from back when we’d been making out in my car and I’d accidentally broken them off. I could actually smile at the memory now, instead of wincing like I had a tooth ache.

Chance and Halo were asleep at my feet after I’d taken both of them for a walk earlier on. It had been hilarious watching Chance trying to keep up with Halo and me with his stubby, little legs. He was a great dog and I was already a little in love with him.

The Bracks’ had refused to keep Chance, and Mr. Bracks had driven him over here with his stuff the day after Lincoln’s funeral. He’d also told me that Mrs. Bracks and Becky were moving back to New York at the end of the month but that he was going to stay behind in Statlen.

Mr. Bracks had then given me an awkward hug and thanked me for being there for Lincoln, before getting into his car and driving off.

I had a feeling that that wasn’t the last time I would Mr. Bracks but I was glad I wouldn’t have to see Mrs. Bracks or Becky again. In all honesty, I wouldn’t be sorry to see those two go—at least they were leaving Lincoln behind. I’d be able to visit his grave whenever I wanted.

The truth was I’d seen Lincoln a few times this week. I could swear he’d been standing across the street from my house just the other day, but when I’d run outside to check he was nowhere to be found. When I’d gone into work at the diner yesterday, he’d been sitting in a corner booth staring out the window. But just as soon as I’d blinked to make sure I wasn’t seeing things, he was gone.

I saw him on the street, I saw him at the lake and I saw him lying next to me in bed. He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He’d become a part of my life and I was reminded of him each and every day. He had embedded himself into my memories and he would never leave me.

I felt a pain in my chest constantly, like someone had taken a blunt knife and was stabbing me repeatedly. All that pain was building up inside with nowhere to go. My parents had told me that it would take time to heal and were going to get me counseling, but I wasn’t sure if that would help me.

The only person who could help me was no longer in this world.

It was hard to imagine not being able to drive over to Lincoln’s house to see him or even just to call or text him because I was bored. So many times this week I’d picked up the phone to call him, only to realize that he wasn’t here to answer his phone anymore.

It was hard adjusting to a life without him but I knew that he would want me to move on and find happiness again.

A knock on my door jarred me from my thoughts and I hastily pulled open my top drawer and put the buttons inside. Halo and Chance both jumped up and ran to the door, wagging their tails eagerly.

“Come in.”

The sound of my own voice startled me. I sounded like a dead thing—no emotion, no inflection, nothing in my tone.

The door opened and Dad peered in, his eyes taking in the neglected condition of my room. I was a neat freak by nature so it was probably a shock for him to find my room in complete disarray.

I was grateful that he didn’t comment on it as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Chance and Halo jumped around his feet and he knelt down to pat them both before walking over to me.

“Is everything okay with you, sweetie?” he asked, fidgeting with a piece of paper that was in his hand.

I shrugged, because that’s all I had energy left to do. I couldn’t lie to him and tell him that I was fine when I really wasn’t. I wasn’t sure if I would ever be alright, but that was something I would never confide to my parents about. I didn’t want them to worry about me anymore than they already were.

Dad cleared his throat and held out the piece of paper to me.

I stared up at him in surprise and took it from him, realizing that it was actually an envelope not a piece of paper.

“What’s this?”

“I was waiting for the right moment to give it to you. Lincoln came into the office two weeks ago and told me to give this to you after he…” Dad trailed off, his shoulders stiff, and his expression awkward. He cleared his throat again. “I’ll leave you alone, but come and find me if you need to talk.”

Even before he was out the door, I was ripping open the sealed envelope and pulling out two pages with Lincoln’s messy handwriting on it. Just the sight of his chicken scratches made my heart leap and bound like it was alive again.

Clutching the envelope to my chest, I hungrily read each word as though my life depended on it. A hot lump had wedged itself inside my throat and tears were escaping my eyes and splashing onto the pages. I brushed them aside and kept on reading. I didn’t stop until I was finished, and then I read it again.

Once I was done, I lay back on my bed and closed my eyes, holding the letter to my chest as every word engraved itself into my brain.

The letter was beautiful. It gave me hope. It made me smile. It perfectly summed up our relationship and it told me everything I needed to know to last me a lifetime. It was the most perfect memory of Lincoln that I had.