‘Come over’ – those words just reinforced to her that Dean didn’t live here. For him, this tragedy was for ever at a distance. He existed outside of Aleisha’s world, outside of Aidan’s world, and after the funeral, he would walk away to his own life. Aleisha could never walk away. She’d done too much of that already – she’d been too busy feeling sorry for herself, crying about her friends not being her friends any more, living in other people’s fictional worlds, to focus on her own, on Aidan’s.
‘No, it’s fine, we don’t need anything from you right now. Uncle Jeremy and Rachel are coming next week. They’re bringing everything we need.’
Uncle Jeremy and Rachel hadn’t asked what they needed to do – they’d just done it, insisted. Hun, we’ll be with you in a few days, we will stay as long as you need. Xx R
Dean didn’t have a response to that. Instead he said, ‘Okay, I’d better go then … But, I love you, okay? We will make it through this. Tell me, if there’s anything I can do. We will get through this, Aleisha.’
Aleisha put her phone down. They hadn’t been ‘we’ for years.
As she hung up the phone, she saw three text messages from Zac. He’d been worried about her. She’d told him what had happened in brief, painful detail, but couldn’t say anything else. He told her he was there if she wanted to talk, and had continued to send the odd stupid cat meme. She knew he was trying his best, but nothing felt like enough.
Aleisha picked at her nail varnish. Her eyes lingered on a photo on the mantelpiece. A photo of the four of them: Aleisha, Aidan, Leilah, Dean. Her anger began to dull, temporarily. When Aidan had thrown Dean’s stuff out after he left, she’d been surprised he had kept that photo. He’d even dusted it. The final reminder of their family; the last piece of evidence they’d ever been a family of four. After she asked her mother, in a moment of madness, whether the photo bothered her, Leilah had said: ‘No. It was a happy time, and I can’t regret happiness.’ That had stayed with Aleisha ever since.
She wanted to block out the world, like Leilah, but there was so much to do, so much to organize. Yet all she felt right now was numbness or bloodcurdling hatred for every happy smile, for everyone living life when her brother, her most important person, was dead.
The photo stared back at her, and she saw Aidan’s face, his childhood grin, asking her one question: ‘What happened?’
‘You jumped.’ But I might as well have pushed you.
Aleisha couldn’t bear being in this house a second longer. It was too loud. Too quiet. Too empty. Too full. She left, not caring if Leilah called for her, not caring if her calls went unanswered. She was already living through the worst. How much further could she go? Today, she just wanted to walk. People laughed in the street. They didn’t know Aidan was dead. Children played, shouted, screamed. They didn’t know Aidan was dead. She passed a group of teenagers, jostling and joking, life stretching out ahead of them. And it hit Aleisha: those carefree school days that old people were always talking about, she wouldn’t ever know them. So, she just walked, and walked.
Up the stairs she climbed, so many stairs, onto the platform of Stonebridge Park station. Finally, at the top, it felt like the top of the world. The platform was empty, almost deserted, in the middle of this blistering summer’s day.
Bright colours, piled up at the edge of the platform, caught her eye. She saw flowers, envelopes, notes, letters fluttering in the wind.
She walked closer. The last place he had lived. Aidan – Rest in Paradise.
A Bakerloo train came into view, approaching her, and she imagined him throwing himself forward. She wanted to know if he stepped out, or if he jumped. She wanted to know what other people did; did people scream, did people ask him to stop? Did people just continue with their day, grumbling about the train delay?
She looked at those flowers – all sorts of colours. At least three or four bunches. Reds, whites, pinks, blues. Some sunflowers too. He’d always loved sunflowers – ever since he was little. On her fifth birthday card, he’d drawn a picture of her and him standing next to the biggest sunflower ever. He’d titled it ‘Home’。
She stood watching the petals blowing backwards and forwards, and she took a mental picture of them. Her own brother’s memorial, of sorts. She was used to walking past flowers tied to lampposts, always thinking it was sad, a life taken too soon, but never lingering on it for more than a moment. But these flowers, they were different. Infinitely more beautiful, but also so small, too small, to even cope with the weight of Aidan’s death. This didn’t mark it. This wasn’t enough to mark his death. She wanted more.