Seven Days: The Complete Story (45 page)

The cars pass
us by out the window and I press my lips together, holding back the
tears. It’s okay to cry, I guess, but not here. Not now. I’ll cry
when I’m alone.

“What the hell
happened back there?” Emily is in shock. Actually, I think we’re
both in shock.

“I learnt a
valuable lesson about the power of maternal instinct.”

“You scared
the bejesus out of Mr Lawson. I gather that’s who he was. He looks
like Nicholas.”

At that, I
begin to tear up but I hold it together by stroking little Nicky’s
back. “Didn’t he introduce himself to you?”

“I guess he
thought I recognised him. We spoke on the phone yesterday when we
discussed the plans for the funeral.”

And the taking
of my baby. Well, that’s one plan that won’t be coming to fruition.
“It’s not going to be some massive over the top thing, is it?
Nicholas wasn’t like that.”

“I don’t think
so. For all their money, the Lawson’s seem like private people.
They’re not flashy.”

I can’t count
the number of times I said that about Nicholas. “Will there be a
coffin? Is he laid out somewhere? I want to see him. I haven’t said
goodbye.”

“I can take
you on the way home if you want. And if you don’t want to go in the
car tomorrow, Alex has offered to drive us.”

“Really?”

“He says he’s
sorry. I think he realises he was harsh to judge you the way he
did. He knows how much you mean to me and deep down all he wants is
to make me happy, though he might not show it sometimes. He’s not
bending on the bridesmaid thing though, but I’m working on
him.”

I reach across
and place my hand on hers. After everything that’s happened Emily
is here for me. We are best friends again.

We pull up in
the parking area of the funeral home. It’s another quiet place in a
series of quiet places and I have to stand and breathe for a good
two minutes before I have the courage to follow Emily up the front
steps. I listen as she speaks in low tones to the funeral director.
He glides across the carpeted floor to greet me. “Hello Sadie. I
understand you’d like to see Nicholas?”

I nod. My
voice has left me again.

“Do you want
me to look after Nicky for a bit?” Emily asks. “So you can be
alone?”

I nod again
and hand the baby to her. She cradles him in her arms and sits in a
velvet chair, cooing softly to him. I follow the funeral director.
I’m scared. Sure, I’ve seen dead people before— not in a
Sixth
Sense
kind of way— but a real dead person, Mum. This is somehow
different though. This is Nicholas.

The room is
dimly lit. It’s cold and, stupidly, I worry that Nicholas might be
cold too. I wish I’d bought him a blanket. Then I notice the
casket. The lid is leant in a corner of the room, leaving it fully
open. I walk toward it, one foot methodically stepping in front of
the other, slowly willing myself to look, knowing that this is
important for closure. I have to say goodbye. I have to tell him
one last time that I love him. I have to make sure he’s wearing
that lovely grey suit and a white shirt. He looks so handsome in
that suit.

And then I see
Joel.

He’s sitting
in the darkness on the other side of the casket from me. He has his
forearms resting on the side of the coffin and his chin leans
against them. He’s talking to Nicholas. He’s telling him what a
good mate he was, that he’s sorry for the grief he caused.

Oh fuck.

I can’t do
this.

I can’t be
Joel’s rock and grieve as well.

Joel looks up.
Tears are sliding down his cheeks. He swipes them away and sniffs.
His voice catches as he speaks, “Ariel.”

Somehow my
feet manage to carry me to the other side of the coffin and I sit
next to Joel. I put my hand on his knee. “I’m here.”

He
straightens. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

And that’s
when I take him in my arms. This is not over. It will never be
over.

(Seven Days Part 5)

It’s been seven days since Nicholas died.
Seven days since I kissed his lips or touched his hair. Seven days
since I saw his smile and felt the warmth from his body as he held
me to him. And now it’s over. The short time we had together, that
felt so right from the moment we met, can never be gotten back. Not
with words or apologies, not with the return of Joel. My Nicholas
is gone forever.

Our last day together was definitely not one
of our high points as a couple. The yelling and arguing, the
accusations are not memories I want to keep in my head. Instead,
I’ve been focusing on the good things, the happy times. I’m trying
to remember the way Nicholas’ laugh lit up his eyes and the way he
held me and told me he loved me. I’m remembering the little things
— the touch of his hand, his excitement at my graduation, when he
saw the baby move for the first time, his ability to down seven
tequilas and still be standing.

The sun is streaming through the windows of
the church where Nicholas was baptised and his parents were
married. Its rays are making pretty stained glass patterns that
begin on the flagstone floor and continue up the legs of the
trolley and across the fine wood of Nicholas’ coffin. They’re
keeping my Nicholas warm, I hope. His body was so cold the last
time I touched it. They’re making him smile. Nicholas always loved
the sun. He was an outdoors guy.

Behind us, the church is overflowing with
people, most of whom I’ve never met but all who seem as shocked as
I at his sudden departure. There’s weeping, gentle touches, kind
words and offers of assistance should I need it. People are smiling
at me in that way you do when you take pity on another person. I
hate that smile; it feels condescending, like they’re trying to
placate me. They’re scared I’ll flip again, so everyone’s treading
on eggshells. I’m not going to lose it though. I’m not going to go
on a screaming rant. I’m over that. Instead, I’m compiling a list
in my head of ways I can live without Nicholas.

The list is extremely short.

I’m existing merely to get through this day
so I can make the list a little longer. Maybe.

To my left, Joel sits mutely. He’s perfectly
styled in expensive black shoes, a grey suit, white shirt and black
tie. Even his blonde twists of hair have been tamed for the
occasion. His eyes are shaded by dark glasses, which he refuses to
take off. It’s been a big few days for him. He’s been hitting the
bottle hard, I think. And though he still looks utterly
melt-your-bones gorgeous I know it’s that front he puts on when
he’s hurting. I see the real Joel beneath it. He’s worn that suit
because it’s expected but Nicholas wouldn’t have cared if Joel
showed up in board shorts. I should have told him to wear jeans. At
least he would have been comfortable. Well, as comfortable as you
can feel at a funeral.

Joel’s body is rigid, a complete antithesis
of his usual fluidity and when I reach over to touch his hand he
feels like ice, almost as if he’s dead too. I’ve tried to make this
easier for him but I can feel the hurt bouncing from his skin
wanting to stab me. He’s not my Joel; he’s a shell of something he
used to be when Nicholas was alive. And I know exactly what he’s
thinking. He’s blaming me for Nicholas’ death. He doesn’t need to
say a thing for me to realise that. I blame myself every minute of
the day.

The very expensive casket, paid for by Mr.
Lawson, is in the aisle to my right. It has a massive wreath of
lilies on the top. Nicholas loves lilies. I mean, they wouldn’t be
mass planted in front of his house and office if he didn’t. He said
his mother called them death lilies and could never understand his
choice but Nicholas loves order, form and simplistic beauty. The
lily encapsulates this perfectly. I stare at the arrangement. It’s
hard to get my head around the fact he’s in the box below them,
even though I’ve seen him there and sat with him for an hour this
morning before the service, holding his hand. It’s harder to absorb
that I’ll never see him again or hold him or kiss him. And baby
Nicky having no father is the hardest thing of all.

I can cope. I’ve done it before… but a baby?
How is a baby meant to be without a parent? I’m going to have to be
both parents now.

During the service there’s a slide show
montage of photos. It’s filled with Nicholas as a little boy,
Nicholas receiving his degree and some awards, Nicholas and his
family. It’s impersonal and I’m fine until the selfie of our unborn
baby and us appears on the screen. The tears well in my eyes and I
don’t bother with a hanky. I don’t care if they ruin the makeup
Emily took so long to apply. I sniff and watch the images pass me
by until another comes that stirs up a memory. It’s one I snapped
of him on my iPhone. A quickly taken photo from a day when he was
on site at Iris. He’s laughing into the lens. He has his hard hat
on. It’s Nicholas all over. It’s this photo that makes me fall into
a heap because I remember shortly after that he called me a minx
and told me to stop distracting him when he was trying to work. My
tears are silent yet I feel as if I may die from the pain of them.
Only Joel’s arm that comes to rest around my shoulder and his hand
resting comfortingly on my skin make me feel less lost. I can
blubber into his sleeve and know he feels the way I do, that of all
the people in the world, Joel is the one person who gets this
grief. He understands because he loved Nicholas too.

The service seems to be over in an instant.
Mr. Lawson speaks, Joel speaks, a priest says meaningless prayers
I’m positive Nicholas never wanted and then suddenly the coffin is
disappearing down the aisle to be taken to the crematorium. As the
attendants wheel it by me, I have this urge to leap on it, to stop
Nicholas from going. I want to keep him with me forever but I know
I can’t, so I watch with tears falling down my face as Nicholas
leaves me for the last time. I whisper a goodbye to him but I know
that he’ll never truly leave. Nicky is with me. He has his father’s
eyes and his father’s heart.

After the cremation, we go to the Lawson’s
house for the wake. I’m glad that Mr. Lawson wanted to have it here
where there was room for the three hundred friends and family
Nicholas has suddenly acquired. I couldn’t face being at our house
so soon. I haven’t been back since the birth. There are too many
memories in that house and I don’t know if I’ll be able to cope
when I’m there later. More to the point, I don’t know if I’ll cope
with Joel being there. I mean, it’s his house too. He has to live
somewhere. I can’t kick him out. I can’t make him stay in a hotel,
even though he offered. That’d be plain weird. Besides, I need to
keep him near me so I can keep an eye on him. Someone has to care
for Joel. He’s more fragile than he appears.

The wake is a little more upbeat, like the
weight of death is lifted. There’s a playlist of Nicholas’
favourite songs made by one of the building team from Iris. Jill
and Mr. Lawson have done a great job catering with the foods
Nicholas loved to eat. There’s photos scattered about the room and
different groups are sharing memories, most of which don’t include
either Joel or me. It’s funny how we can be such a major part of
his life and yet have had seemingly so little impact on it. I guess
my life with Nicholas was only beginning. We don’t have a past.

And we never will.

As I stand by the fireplace, people I’ve
never met come to me to offer condolences. Strangely, the presence
of a baby makes the whole thing a little less awkward. Instead of
saying how sorry they are for the fiftieth time today, baby Nicky
gives them another topic of conversation. I’m glad of it too. I’m
not one for fake platitudes.

At the end of the queue two ancient aunties
appear. They look like twins in their floral dresses and
old-fashioned court shoes. They coo over Nicky and say without
hesitation that he’s the spit of his father when he was a boy. They
tell me stories of one summer when Nicholas and his cousins swung
on the clothesline until they bent it in half, sending granny into
a rage. They chuckle over the Billy carts he made when he was ten,
how he forced his cousins to race down the driveway and crash into
the bushes at the bottom so one broke an arm. They speak of
elaborate cubbies Nicholas built out of scrap wood from the garden
shed, much to his father’s disgust. Nicholas was into everything.
He was always creating.

I am cheered. I like hearing these stories
because I never knew much about his childhood. He sounds so normal,
the opposite of the way his father wanted him to behave.

“Can baby Nicky and I come visit you some
time?” I ask them. “I want him to know who his father was. I don’t
know that much about him as a boy. You two seem to know it
all.”

“We’d love you to come, lassie,” one of the
ladies says. “Nicholas was such a scallywag. It’ll be fun to relive
the old days again. I might even be able to dig out a few photos
for you.”

“That would be lovely,” I say. “I’m sure
Nicky would like to hear the stories about his dad when he’s old
enough.”

“And what about you, child? What are you
planning to do now?” Everyone knows my circumstance. They know I
was living with Nicholas in his and Joel’s house. I guess they’re
speculating about where I’ll go or if I’ll stay.

“I’m not sure what I’m doing,” I say. “I’ve
been staying with my friend Emily and her fiancée since I got out
of the hospital but I feel like I’m imposing, especially with the
wedding being so close. I’ll have to go home soon.”

If I knew exactly where my home was.

We chat for a while longer and then, at
last, the crowd begins to thin. I see Joel out on the terrace,
leaning on the railing and I wonder if I should go to him. We
haven’t spoken properly. He’s been so preoccupied and I’ve been
avoiding him because I’m a little afraid of what we might say to
each other. I don’t know why. I suck in a breath and head in his
direction.