He looks up at me through teary eyes, so much faith and relief in his expression. Sometimes it gets hard to remember that Ryan isn’t his mother. It’s no secret that Mona and I don’t get along, but our feud never should have touched Ryan.
I lead him toward Dad, his entire body shaking with each step we take. By the time we pause in front of the casket, Ryan is barely containing his sobs. “Dad,” he whispers, his voice breaking.
Our father looks so serene, lying there in his favorite suit. His thick dark hair is neatly combed, and his hands are laid on top of each other. It’s strange to see him like this, because it’s clearly him, yet it also feels like it isn’t him at all. I don’t believe in souls and such, but watching my father lying there truly makes me feel like he’s no longer here with us.
I wrap my arm around Ryan fully and swallow hard, struggling to keep my own tears at bay. “We were blessed to have had him, Ryan. You and I… we’ll carry forward Dad’s legacy.”
He nods and leans into me, and I squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. “Is there anything you still want to tell Dad?” I ask, my voice soft.
He hesitates for a moment. “Thank you, Dad,” he whispers, his voice so soft I wouldn’t have heard him if I weren’t standing right next to him. “For giving me Silas, and for always loving us. You always told us to be brave, and I will try to be. I… I’ll be the b-best brother and son I can be, so you will n-never have to worry about Silas or Mom.”
My heart shatters and I bite down on my lip harshly. My sweet young brother is a better person than I’ll ever be, and I need to work harder at being the person he thinks I am.
“Come on,” Mona says from behind us. “They’re going to take him away now.”
Ryan nods and turns at the sound of his mother’s voice, but I don’t follow him. I can’t. I stand there, frozen, taking one last look at my father.
I love you, Dad, I think to myself. I always will. I’ll make you proud, I promise. I’ll be everything you ever wanted me to be. I swear to you that I’ll do better from today onward. I’ll take care of Ryan as if he were my own. To this day, I’m not sure if you saw her true colors, but I’ll shield him from Mona nonetheless. I’ll do everything I know you’d expect of me. This is the very last promise I get to make you, and I swear I’ll keep it. I’ll ensure you can rest in peace, knowing I’ll be there to protect him in your stead. I promise, Dad.
I take a step away when the funeral director smiles at me apologetically, his hands on the casket’s lid. This is it. This is the last time I’ll ever see my father again.
I walk away, needing a moment to myself before I’m forced to face the countless guests that came to see us. As if on autopilot, I walk the path that leads to the graves I know are behind this building. It’s a path I’ve walked countless times with my father.
Just as I’m about to round the corner that leads to my mother’s grave, the sound of soft sobbing stops me in my tracks. On the ground by the trees along the road sits a girl dressed in black, her knees drawn up and her face hidden, the force of her sobs shaking her body.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m kneeling in front of her, the handkerchief my mother embroidered for me in hand. “Here,” I tell her.
The girl looks up, and the expression in her honey brown eyes hits me right in the chest. She is sorrow personified, and in her, I see myself.
Chapter Two
Alanna
I look up into the most beautiful dark green eyes I’ve ever seen, surprised to find no pity in them… there’s only understanding.
I take the handkerchief with trembling hands and sniff as I wipe away my tears. “Thank you,” I tell him, my voice hoarse. My heart is aching so badly that I think I might be sick, and I clench the fabric in my hands, as though I’m hoping it’ll give me the strength I need today.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
I look into his eyes, and something about his gaze takes the edge off my pain. He’s kneeling in front of me, no doubt ruining his suit pants, yet his entire focus is on me. “Alanna,” I whisper before looking down again.
I trace over the embroidery on his handkerchief absentmindedly, feeling numb. “Psi?” I ask, referring to the greek letter on the fabric.
He nods. “You’re a clever one, aren’t you? I’m surprised you know what letter that is.”
I look up at him indignantly. It’s clear he thinks I’m a child, and it annoys me. “Why Psi?”